Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Rose Landry, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Bakery, Hockey Player Ilya Rozanov, Bakery Owner Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Has a Gay Awakening, Coming Out, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, Shane Hollander Was Never a Professional Hockey Player

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of Shane is a baker

Collections:

Anonymous

Stats:

Published: 2026-08-05 Completed: 2026-09-13 Words: 43,933 Chapters: 15/15

Early Mornings

Summary

In which Shane owns a bakery and Ilya eats so much bread that he triggers a gay awakening.

Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

Shane Hollander loved his life. He thought this every morning when he forced his eyes open at 3am and swung his feet out of bed. His sunrise alarm clock lit the room with a warm yellow light and he stretched his arms over his head, then touched his toes. He jumped five times to get his blood flowing and started to get ready for the day.

He’d always been an early riser, but 3am pushed even his limits. He had a strict 7pm bedtime to keep himself on track and it wasn’t too bad. It was a small price to pay to live his dream of owning a bakery. It was what he’d been working towards since he was nine, when his parents gave him his first KitchenAid for Christmas.

So the early starts were worth it. The early nights were worth it too, even if they did get in the way of his social life. He’d had a few short relationships with women, but they only ever lasted a few months before realizing just how dedicated to his job he was. It was worth staying single.

And the fact that he was living in Boston? Also worth it. He hadn’t imagined settling down in America when he came to the city for a head baker position, but when the opportunity to take over the business came up, it felt like stars had aligned. It was all worth it.

He told himself this as he shoved a slice of stale bread into his mouth - it tasted weird against the toothpaste he’d just brushed his teeth with, but there needed to be something substantial in his belly before the mammoth coffee he was going to brew while the ovens heated. He pushed his feet into his clogs, shrugged on his fleece and headed downstairs to his bakery.

***

The bell over the door chimed and Shane called out a hello while he focused on piping neat circles of vanilla custard into today's blueberry tarts. Rose would arrive to work the cashier soon, but he didn’t mind serving anybody who might want to come in before then. He heard the newcomer shuffle around the shelves, then let out a low whistle. Shane rolled his eyes - he already knew what was coming next.

“This is expensive bread.”

He couldn’t stop the snarl his lips formed. It was his least favorite comment, especially given that his prices were lower than most of the chain bakeries in town - the ones that pretended to be one-off local businesses but received deliveries of frozen loaves each morning. He kept his back to the counter and replied tersely. “You can go to the corner store for cheap bread. These are artisan loaves.”

“Artisan loaves.” The voice repeated. Shane couldn’t tell if he was mocking him, or just trying the words out for size. He turned to get a look at his rude new guest and his snarl immediately quivered. Ilya Rozanov from the Boston Bears was standing in the middle of his little bakery. He was in head to toe athletic wear and looked quite amused, actually. He had a coy smile and there was a twinkle in his eye. Shane schooled his own expression into something more professional.

“I bake them fresh every morning.” He explained. “I change the flavors every month depending on what’s in season.”

“Ah.” Rozanov said, nodding his head a few times as he turned back to look at the shelves. He looked curiously at a loaf of rye bread wrapped in a fig leaf, then back to Shane. “It is good that they are expensive, probably. I’m looking for a loaf of bread that says ‘Sorry for being asshole’. I will serve it for lunch and it will say ‘I will never ignore texts from you again.’”

“You’re asking a lot from a loaf of bread.”

“Then perhaps I buy some of these tiny cakes, too?” Rozanov asked, gesturing to the display case that Shane was in the process of filling up for the day. There were a couple of miniature sponges in there, but Shane mostly made pastries. “Do you make all of them?”

“Yes.” Shane replied. “I have staff sometimes, but I do most of the baking. This is my store.”

Rozanov looked at him with open curiosity. His eyes flickered over Shane’s face, then his flour dusted clothes. The look lasted so long that Shane felt himself fluster - his cheeks grew hot and he glanced down at the piping bag he was still holding, as if that could help him out. Rozanov was still staring when he looked back. His amused smile had returned.

“They are very pretty. You should pick for me.”

Shane finally put down the bag of vanilla custard, grateful the interaction had veered back into his comfort zone.

“You should have the rosemary and lemon bread.” He said, as he slid a loaf into one of the grease proof bags. “This is on the fixed menu, because people really like it.” He popped open a to-go box and turned to study the offerings on his workbench. He hadn’t finished the tarts yet, but he couldn’t pass up pairing the blueberry with the lemon loaf. He plucked some fresh blueberries from their bowl and garnished a tart before loading it into the box. He added a slice of cheesecake, a miniature sponge and a cinnamon bun before turning back around to show it to Rozanov, who was still watching him. “Does this look good to you?”

Rozanov nodded his approval. “You are very clever, to make all these.”

“Yeah.” Shane replied, kicking himself a bit at how un-humble it sounded. He was clever. He spent years training for this and the shop was the fruit of his labor. It felt good, to have somebody acknowledge it. Rozanov grinned wide at him. A few of his teeth were whiter than the others, Shane noticed. They were probably fake. He’d seen countless games of hockey where Rozanov baited other players into throwing a punch at him. It was hard to believe that was the same guy praising his baking.

Shane taped the box shut and rang up the total for him. Rozanov tapped his card against the reader without checking what it would cost and picked the packages up off the counter. He stood there as if searching for something else to say. “Thank you.” He said, decisively.

Shane smiled. “Thank you. Good luck with your apology.”

“Mm, yes. Bread will help, I think.”

Shane watched Rozanov leave. He stopped outside to check his phone then crossed the street. He was a fast walker but that didn’t stop heads turning. Shane saw somebody take a discreet photo of him on their iPhone. He smiled to himself as he returned to his tarts, garnishing the rest of them with the blueberries. Rozanov had been nicer than he thought he’d be.

***

The weekend was the steady kind of busy that Shane loved the most. Rose and Jackie had alternating shifts on the counter so he could focus on keeping the shelves stocked and didn’t have to worry about giving polite customer service. He had a catering order to fill and nothing was more satisfying than efficiently whipping up 300 of the same thing. He was halfway through pressing pastry into the first 100 individual tins when Rose came to lean in the kitchen doorway. Presumably, the store was finally quiet and she was taking a break. She’d made herself a cup of coffee and was dunking a slice of ginger cake in it. Shane scrunched his nose up at the combination and she smiled beatifically.

“Somebody was asking about you in the store this morning.”

“Did they want to complain? You could have got me.”

“No, no complaints. I said you were busy and he said he didn’t want to interrupt you. You didn’t tell me Ilya Rozanov came here.”

Shane blinked down at the tin he was holding. He realized he hadn’t told Rose. It might have been because they’d been busy, or it might have been because Rozanov’s visit had felt like a quiet moment he wanted to keep to himself.

“It was Rozanov?” He asked. He was glad Rozanov had come back, but wished he’d been at the counter to greet him. He dodged the probing tone in Rose's last statement. “Did he buy anything?”

“I made him a coffee and he took a loaf of rosemary bread! He tipped me fifty dollars and told me to tell you the bread worked, but he didn't say what that meant.”

Shane laughed. “That sounds like him. He came in on Wednesday looking for treats to apologize to someone. Something about ignoring texts, or something. I’m glad they liked it’”

Rose grinned, probably thrilled at the tiny morsel of gossip. “That’s so cool. Maybe he’ll become a regular! Do you think he would post about us on Instagram? Apparently he tagged a pizza place once and it got so busy that they had to start doing reservations."

“That sounds terrifying. I don’t think I could handle a rush like that. You know, I read this article about how businesses really struggle to scale when they blow up online like that. They have to spend all the extra income on machinery to keep up with demand, but..” The bell chimed and Rose let out a put upon sigh, as if Shane didn’t know she was only humoring his worrying. She’d probably spend the afternoon daydreaming about the rye bread becoming a viral sensation.

“Back to work! I’m going to think of a secret knock for if Ilya comes back. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about him.”

Chapter End Notes

Soooo like.... what do we think...? I couldn't stop daydreaming about Shane being a baker and I needed an outlet to put him into situations and predicaments. I feel like his personality really lends itself to studying baking techniques and turning out hundreds of loaves of bread on the regular.

Chapter 2

It was almost Shane’s bedtime and he definitely wasn’t meeting the energy level needed for a bar right now. Rose was a good friend and he was proud of her for getting cast as the lead in a legit play, so had agreed to come along for the pre-drinks portion of the night. He’d spent the past couple of hours making awkward conversation with her friends about their current acting projects and finally felt that he’d stayed long enough to go back home without being rude.

“I’ll go get a round of drinks.” He said, holding out the notes app in his phone. “Do you guys want to write down your orders?”

He handed his phone over to Hannah and watched politely to make sure his phone didn’t start spontaneously flashing up his most personal texts, or whatever else it might do to embarrass him while it was out of his control.

“I wish you’d stay out long enough to come dancing with us.” Rose wheedled, tugging on his sleeve.

“You know I wouldn’t dance.”

“I bet you would, if we found the right club.”

He rolled his eyes and took his phone back from the group, checking it to make sure everybody had picked one. “Sure.” He said, knowing there was no way he’d be entering a club tonight. “I’m just gonna..” He gestured to the bar, then turned to walk towards it.

“Thank you Shane!” Katie called. He smiled to himself. He may not be particularly fond of nights out, but he did enjoy the feeling of looking after Rose and her friends while they had fun.

*

He propped an elbow up on the bar and rested his chin on his hand, watching dozily as the staff worked their way through the people waiting. He hoped it would take a while before they reached him - he needed a few moments to wake back up before he tried to carry five drinks at once.

“Look at you, party animal.” A distinct voice came from his right.

Shane turned to see Rozanov maneuvering his way to the bar - he was using his large shoulder to nudge into the small gap next to Shane, ignoring the disgruntled man whose space he was occupying in the process. He looked good. His curls were a little damp and his light tan looked radiant under the bar's soft lighting. Shane didn’t think he’d ever considered another man to be radiant before.

Shane stared blankly, then remembered he’d been spoken to. “Shut up.”

“What are you drinking?” Rozanov asked. A bartender had clocked him the moment he’d approached the bar and was now heading their way. Shane bet he never had to wait for a drink in Boston.

“Oh, no. I’m not.. I’m buying a round, I’ll order seperate.” Shane stumbled, but quickly gave in when Roznov gave him a fixed look and jerked his head to the impatient bartender. Shane blushed and obediently read out his group's requests. Rozanov tacked a beer for himself onto the end and paid for the whole order, not leaving any time for Shane to get his card out.

“You are a party animal.” Rozanov accused.

Shane rolled his eyes. “We’re out with Rose’s friends. She just got a really good acting gig, so we’re celebrating.”

Shane watched as Rozanov followed his gesture to the table of women. He really couldn’t take his eyes off him. There was a little gold stud in his earlobe that Shane didn’t think he’d had when he came into the bakery last week.

“Which fruity drink is for you? You do not drink beer?”

“None. I mean, no. I don’t drink beer. But I’m not having a cocktail either. I was about to leave, actually. I just wanted to get them all one last drink to say goodbye.”

“You have other party to go to?”

Shane huffed out a laugh. “No. I’m going to bed. I have work in the morning.”

Rozanov grinned, delighted by his answer. “Bed? Now? You are little baby?”

“I start work at four!” Shane protested. The bartender placed a tray with all six drinks on the bar and Rozanov picked it up. He held it with one hand like an Italian waiter and immediately started towards Rose’s table, leaving Shane to trot along behind him like an obedient puppy.

“Ladies.” Rozanov said suavely, placing the tray down on the table. They all cooed gratefully as they took their respective drinks. Shane didn’t miss the appraising looks Rozanov was receiving from them.

“Ilya! I didn’t know you were here!” Rose cried, beaming at him. She made eye contact with Shane over his shoulder and pantomimed a funny little knock on the table. Shane couldn’t help but smile at her theatrics.

“I’m taking your baby home.” Rozanov announced. Rose groaned loudly, as she always did when Shane left a party before it had even started.

“You don’t have to do that, you just got a beer.” Shane argued, looking down at the glass left on the tray.

“Oh no, you should drive him, Ilya.” Rose chimed in. “The bus takes ages and he’ll be a grouch all morning if he’s tired.”’

Shane scowled and Rozanov raised his eyebrows at him, clearly pleased to get his way. “Say goodbye, Shane.” Rozanov instructed.

Shane rolled his eyes, but approached the table as instructed anyway. He got a knee on the bench next to Rose so he could lean down and give her the kind of tight hug that he’d only ever give her or his parents. “Have a good night. You’ll call me if you need anything, right? I’m proud of you.”

Rose laughed into the hug, squeezing as good as she got and patting Shane on the back as he pulled away. “Sure, babe. Thank you.”

Shane waved at the rest of the group. It always felt awkward to hug one person and nobody else, but he didn’t know these girls well and he was sure they were probably secretly relieved to see him go so early in the night.

Rozanov waved too, although his was a much smoother gesture than Shane’s goofy back and forth motion. He lowered his hand to the small of Shane’s back for just long enough to nudge him in the direction of the door.

*

“Won’t your friends mind that you left without saying goodbye?” Shane asked, picking up his pace to match Rozanov’s long strides.

“Ah, no. I do that sometimes.” Rozanov said, shrugging one shoulder. His mouth pulled to the side to accentuate the shrug. “They will be used to it. I will catch up later, probably.”

He moved closer to Shane and nudged his shoulder to push him down a side street. Shane followed the direction clumsily. There was a row of cars parked along the curb and it was immediately obvious which was Rozanov’s. As confirmation, Rozanov stopped by the passenger side of the lurid green sports car. He held the door open for Shane and gestured for him to get in.

“I think I’d rather take the bus.” Shane said dryly. He stepped past Rozanov and settled in the offered seat. It felt like his ass was on the pavement. He adjusted his legs awkwardly while Rozanov closed the door and moved around to the driver's side. Loud music blasted the moment the car turned on and Rozanov quickly turned it off, smiling over at Shane like he’d been caught in the middle of some mischief.

“You must turn every head in the city, in this thing.”

Rozanov nodded. “I like that. Is nice to see people smile at it.”

Shane sat with that for a moment. It definitely fit into the conceited impression he had of him, but there was something sweet in there too. He imagined the type of young boy who would idolise Ilya Rozanov and flashy sports cars, and how excited they must be to see the two objects of fantasy at once. Maybe he let them sit in the driver's seat. He imagined Rozanov taking photos with fans and felt oddly fond.

“I live at the store, by the way.” Shane said, turning the conversation back to practicality. “Well, not in it. I have an apartment above.”

Rozanov nodded. He looked around as if to get his bearings in the city, then pulled out of his parking spot. He drove quietly and eventually nudged the music back up a couple of notches. Trap music played quietly as Shane watched the city lights go by. He felt Rozanov glance at him a few times.

“Rose is your girl, yes?” Rozanov asked eventually. When Shane turned to look at him, his eyes were on the road.

“Rose? No.” Shane answered, brows pinching closer together. “I mean, we dated when I first moved to Boston, but now we’re just friends. She’s my best friend.”

“Ah.” Rozanov said. Shane almost thought the conversation was going to end there. “I just thought, because of how she talked when I came into your store.. She sounds like she loves you.”

Shane felt a pang of old hurt in his chest. Sometimes he found himself wishing his relationship with Rose had lasted. They really did love each other, but after six months of trying to make it work out, it was clear there was no romantic spark between the two of them.

“We weren’t right together. It was just.. Wrong.” Shane frowned, thinking about awkward sex and somehow even more awkward kisses. “It’s okay. I think I love her more, like this. It’s nice to have a friend like that.”

Rozanov was still turned to the road, but he glanced at Shane out of the corner of his eye.

“You do not have girlfriend, then?”

“No. I don’t think I have time.”

“Maybe you are right. Ladies generally do not enjoy 7pm bedtime.”

Shane blushed and stared down at his lap, embarrassed that his failure with women was the topic of conversation. “I don’t mind not having a girlfriend.”

“Mm? It is shame, though. You are very handsome and you make delicious cakes. Somebody should be enjoying that.”

Shane didn’t think his face was ever going to cool down. He was probably going to be red as a strawberry for the rest of his life. He snuck a look over at Rozanov and saw that he was watching him now. He looked playful, which made Shane want to play back. He was still too embarrassed to smile, so shrugged at him instead. “I guess that leaves more cake for you.”

“Lucky me.” Rozanov responded. The car slowed as he pulled up outside Shane’s little bakery. Shane unbuckled his seatbelt and looked over at Rozanov awkwardly. Should he invite him in, or was he really going to go straight back to the bar?

Rozanov kept his belt buckled and the engine on, but he turned at the waist to watch Shane get out of the car. “Sweet dreams.” He said. “Don’t let the bugs bite.”

Shane scrunched his nose at the mixed up rhymes, then leaned down to look through the door before he closed it. “Thank you for the ride.”

Rozanov nodded his head in acknowledgment. Shane watched the stupid green car disappear down the street as he thought over the interaction he'd just had. There was something about Rozanov’s attention that left him feeling buzzed, like he’d had more than ginger ale at the bar. He almost wished he could go back there and spend the evening watching the guy charm everybody he came across. Shane shook his head at his own silly urges and let himself into his building. He kicked his shoes off by the door, then jogged up the stairs to begin his evening routine.

Chapter 3

Autumn was creeping in fast. It was a blustering morning. The wind and rain was loud against the windows while Shane started to set up for the day. He had planned on stretching summer flavors as far as they could go, but knew anybody coming into the store today would want something warm and comforting.

He spent a while scowling at the crate of strawberries as if they were personally responsible for the turn in weather, before resigning himself to turning them into jam. It wouldn’t be hard at all to put together some shortcrust pastry and sell them as jam tarts.

Shane set the first loaves of the day off to bake along with the croissants and muffins the morning crowd tended to favor, then got to work hulling berries.

The sun was just beginning to rise by the time the berries were all chopped and boiling in a large pan. It filled the store with a sweet, cozy smell that reminded Shane of the year he’d learnt how to make jam. He’d been eleven and spent a good chunk of his birthday money on berries to preserve. Entire weekends had been dedicated to stirring vats of various fruits and his dad had taken him door to door around the neighborhood to sell his finished jars. When he’d ran out of potential customers, his parents had dutifully taken the remaining jam to sell to their coworkers. Twenty years on, Shane wasn’t sure if they’d actually sold them there. They had probably just said so to keep his ego intact.

Shane was prodding the jam with a thermometer when somebody banged loud on the shop door. He froze in place to see if they’d knock again. He was clearly not open and the curtains were still closed over the windows, but people knew he worked early. Every few months the guy from the corner store liked to come and give him grief over where he kept the garbage.

They banged again and Shane grumbled to himself as he put down the thermometer and wiped his hands off on a cloth. He unlocked the door and opened it just a crack, then frowned even deeper out of confusion when he saw that it was Rozanov huddled up in the alcove.

“What are you doing here? We’re closed.” He said, bluntly.

“I come all this way and you will not let me in?”

Shane rolled his eyes and opened the door wider. Rozanov bustled past him and watched as Shane turned the locks and set the curtain back in place.

“We open at seven thirty.” Shane said, turning to look at Rozanov again. He was a sight to behold, so early in the morning. Rozanov was bundled up in sweatpants, a Boston Bears hoodie and a jacket. His hat was pulled down firmly, curls poking out the bottom of it in a disorderly manner. He was damp from the rain and his eyes were still bleary, as if he wasn’t quite ready for the day yet.

“Yes, but when I come after practice you are busy. I’m very famous VIP, you see. I require personal service.”

Shane stared at him. Had he actually shown up to be waited on outside of opening hours? He’d appreciated the ride home, but this was insane behavior.

“And, ah. I brought you a coffee.” Shane watched Rozanov hold out a to-go tray with two paper cups. His hand looked cold and the cups were a little soggy.

“You know I sell coffee here, right?”

“Maybe.” Rozanov said, his eyes darting over to the very expensive espresso machine that Shane had taken out a loan to pay for. “Maybe yes. But it is early. You might like having one brought to you, instead?”

Shane continued to blink down at the tray, then up at Rozanov. It was a nice gesture.

“I’m busy.” He said flatly, which really wasn’t any kind of thank you. He ended up taking both drinks and carrying them to the kitchen. “Come on, you can sit back here while I work.”

He dragged a stool an appropriate distance away from his workbench and gestured for Rozanov to sit down on it, before handing over the coffee cup that looked like it had already been drunk from. Rozanov smiled as if Shane had just brewed it up himself and huddled around the cup, warming his hands with it. He sniffed a little, then three more times like a wolf out of a cartoon, raising his nose higher in the air to catch the scent.

“It smells nice in here.”

Shane finally smiled, taking one last look at Rozanov before walking back to his station. He pulled the shortcrust pastry out of the fridge and set to work rolling it out.

“Yeah. I’m making jam. The berries were meant for custard tarts, but it’s such a horrible day. I don’t think anybody would want them, so now they’ll be jam tarts.”

“You do this without instructions?” Rozanov looked impressed. He was watching Shane shape the pastry with keen interest.

“It’s not hard. It’s just jam and pastry.”

“Ah.” Rozanov said. “I think we make these in Russia, also. Korzinki. They have little white hats.”

“What is the hat made of? Icing?” Shane asked, frowning down at the pastry. He’d studied in Europe several times, but knew nothing of Russian baking.

“No, no. It is very light.”

“Meringue?” Shane tried.

“Yes!” Rozanov nodded. “Meringue. My mother would buy them from the supermarket.”

Shane smiled to himself. His favorite thing about baking was the process, but he would always enjoy the way it triggered nostalgia.

“I don’t think I have enough time to do meringue. I have some cream, though. If you stay until they are baked.”

“That sounds nice.” Rozanov said. When Shane glanced over, he looked a little morose.

“You can help out, if you’re staying that long. Take off your hoodie and put some gloves on - you can stock the shelves.”

The distraction worked and Rozanov quickly took on a coy smile. “You want me working for you shirtless?”

“I can see you have a shirt on under there. It’s good hygiene.”

Rozanov rolled his eyes and peeled his hoodie off slowly. It wasn’t much of a tease, considering he was revealing a Boston Bears shirt with the exact same graphic as his hoodie. Shane did get a peek at his bare waist, though. It was trim and toned, with a thick trail of hair running down into his sweats. Shane looked away before Rozanov could see him.

*

Rozanov seemed happy enough with the task, even if he asked Shane to confirm what every item was before he put it on display. His presentation skills weren’t up to the standard Shane set for the store, but it was charming to watch him concentrate so hard on lining croissants up in a fashion that was ultimately quite ugly. Shane could always ask Jackie to straighten things up when she arrived. By the time Rozanov was back on his stool, the tarts were out the oven.

Shane set them on a tray to cool and whipped a small bowl of cream until it was thick enough to scoop - just enough for the two of them. When he determined that the tarts wouldn’t scald their mouths, he picked one up and set it on a plate for Rozanov, topping it with a generous pile of cream.

“This is your wage.” He said, holding the plate out to him along with a small fork.

Rozanov took it and smiled down at the little plate, turning it in his hands as if to see the tart from multiple angles. “Much nicer than supermarket.”

“Save the review until you’ve tried it.”

Rozanov nodded. He ignored the fork and picked the tart up with his fingertips. He took a big bite and closed his eyes as he chewed. “Mm.” He moaned. It was a deep, short grunt - an exaggerated display of his enjoyment. Shane rolled his eyes but did not stop watching. He leaned back on the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. Rozanov opened his eyes and nodded. “Much nicer. Is lovely, Shane.”

Shane smiled at the compliment. “Worth getting up so early?”

“Yes.” Rozanov said, finishing the tart with two more bites. There was a smattering of cream around his mouth.

“Good. Thank you for the coffee.”

Rozanov nodded his head. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and carried his plate over to the sink. He rinsed it off and then looked around for the dishwasher. Shane gestured for him to leave the plate on the side. “It’s fine, we’ll have loads of dirty plates later. I uh.. I’m going to open the door soon, though.”

Rozanov glanced at the clock, then out the window. It was light outside, although no less gloomy. “I should go to gym now, anyway.” He pulled his hoodie back on and straightened out his clothes. “Thank you for letting me in.”

“Thank you for coming by.” Shane responded. He felt stuck in this loop of pleasantries. It was very Canadian of him.

Rozanov seemed to think the same thing, if the amused lilt to his mouth was anything to go by. He left the kitchen and let himself out of the bakery, calling as he went. “Goodbye!”

Chapter 4

Rozanov’s early morning visits to the bakery had become a regular occurrence. It was hard for Shane to predict which mornings he would show up, but he’d grown used to hearing a loud knock at least a couple of times a week. He found himself planning his bakes around what Rozanov would enjoy for breakfast, then preparing the same thing several days in a row until he showed up to eat it. Shane was sure it was obsessive behavior - he’d die if Rozanov found out he was doing it - but it was worth the effort every time Rozanov moaned with pleasure and told Shane what a talent he was.

Shane hadn’t realized how much he had acclimated to Rozanov’s visits until he was gone for more than a few days. He’d never told Shane about any of his shorter trips, but mentioned two weeks ago that he’d be out of town for most of the month this time. It implied that he knew Shane would miss him, Shane thought. Perhaps it also implied that Rozanov was worried about Shane missing him.

Shane didn’t say he would miss him. He’d just nodded and said good luck. He consciously had not watched the games. It felt clingy, somehow. They were just friends. He didn’t think he should know everything the guy did, even if it was being broadcast on live TV.

It was approaching six AM when the shop phone rang. Shane was elbow deep in sourdough and let it go to voicemail. He kept kneading as the phone rang again, then a third time. The dough took on a firmer texture and he divided it up into separate bannetons for proofing. The phone rang again. He no longer had the excuse of doughy hands, and was interested in what kind of baked goods emergency would have somebody calling with such urgency.

“Good morning, this is Shane Hollander speaking.” Shane said, holding the phone cautiously so as not to flake dough all over it.

“Finally. I knew you would be awake.” It was Rozanov on the line, his voice a little slurred.

“It’s five fifty three.” Shane said, glancing at the clock.

“My early bird.” Rozanov cooed. “It is not so late here.”

"Where are you?”

“Vancouver, I think..”

Shane frowned, doing the math in his head. “It’s almost 3am.”

“Yes. I just got to hotel with team. We had big party. Did you see my game last night?”

Shane realized this conversation had the potential to go on for a while. He switched the phone to its Bluetooth earpiece so he could get back to work while talking.

“No. I haven’t really been watching much hockey lately. Sorry.”

“Oh.” Rozanov said. He sounded quite dejected. “I wish you had seen. I scored very good goals.”

“Maybe I’ll watch later.”

“I would like that. I would have liked for you to be in the crowd. I should get you seat, maybe. In Boston? You would come, yes?”

Shane stared down at his roll of plastic wrap. He hadn’t even been watching this guy’s games on TV because he felt weird about it. Being in the crowd would feel weirder still. He couldn’t figure out what Rozanov wanted from him, or how much of Rozanov it felt reasonable to want in return. It was like they existed on the peripherals of each other's lives - their mornings together were the only point of overlap. It was comfortable. There was no need to question anything, this way.

“It’s late for you. You should go to bed.”

“Not yet.”

Shane rolled his eyes. He began wrapping up the bannetons with plastic and moving them over to his proofing shelves.

“I have thought of you a lot, in Canada.” Rozanov said idly. Shane stayed silent, waiting to see where Rozanov’s trail of thought would take him. “I have met many very polite bakers at Tim Hortons.”

“Shut up.” Shane said, huffing a short laugh.

“Maybe you would like to see more of me, when I am back?” Rozanov tried. Shane found himself frozen again, standing still in the kitchen.

“At the bakery?” Shane asked.

“No. I am thinking maybe dinner?”

“You want to get dinner with me.” Shane repeated. That sounded kind of.. intimate. He thought of the times he had dinner with Rose recently. She liked dimly lit restaurants with quiet music. It was nice, when it was the two of them. It was like they were playing at being grown ups. He imagined Rozanov at the table instead and the vibe shifted to romantic. He could picture him ordering an expensive wine and covering the bill, like Shane was his date.

“Yes, Shane.” Rozanov clarified, talking to Shane like he was a particularly dopey puppy.

Shane felt flustered. His cheeks were hot, but the rest of his body was icy cold. He clenched his fists and tilted his head back to the ceiling, trying to regain his center of gravity. “I uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh.” Rozanov said. He sounded less upset than when Shane had told him he hadn’t been watching hockey. “You do not like me?”

Shane was certain he was about to die. Jackie was going to come to work and find him turned to stone right here in front of the fridge. He wanted to say no, but he’d already been so harsh. He didn’t think he could let Rozanov down a third time.

“No, I do.. Uh.. I like you.” He said eventually. The words felt like they were being dragged out of him. “I just think.. I like seeing you at the bakery.”

“I see.” Rozanov said. His voice was incredibly neutral, now. The call drifted into silence again. Shane finally felt his limbs unfreeze. He turned and gripped onto the workbench. He was going to be late opening the store this morning.

“This is my work phone.” Shane said. He could see his own reflection in the stainless steel counter, blurry and distorted through the scratches and dints. It was a pretty accurate depiction of how he felt. “You really shouldn’t call this number again.”

“Okay.” Rozanov said, maintaining his neutral tone. Shane almost wished he would sound wounded. It was hard to navigate the conversation without a clear tone of voice to guide him.

“I’m uh. I’m going back to work now. I’ll see you when you get back.”

He picked up the phone from where he’d left it on the side and jammed the end call button before Rozanov could give him another monosyllabic response.

Shane squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the balls of his palms against them, blocking out the overhead lighting. He knew he hadn’t handled that well. He’d spent the entire call feeling like a trapped animal, scrambling to get out of a cage. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Rozanov - he’d been on his mind for weeks. He was funny and kind, even when he was being rude. He was undeniably attractive. It wasn’t like Shane had never enjoyed looking at a man before, but it was always just a quick glance and a thought filed away for later. He’d never acted on it. His brief attractions didn’t mean anything permanent, in the bigger picture of his life. He didn’t want anything to change.

What if Rozanov hadn’t meant anything romantic by it? What if he wanted to take Shane out for wings at the sports bar? He would be mortified if he allowed himself to develop a crush, only to find out Rozanov had never seen him that way to begin with.

He’d been so blunt. What if his freak out had scared Rozanov away from him entirely? What if he never came back to the bakery? It’s not like Shane could start showing up outside the Bears’ arena to try and catch him for conversation. He looked down at the missed calls on the phone, then scrambled for his mobile so he could log Rozanov’s number in his address book.

Out of adrenaline and worry, he tapped open a message thread with the new contact.

Shane
You really shouldn’t call the store phone.

Shane
This is my mobile number.

Shane
This is Shane Hollander, by the way.

Shane cringed at himself as he read the texts back. He watched a read receipt pop up and a typing bubble appear and disappear a couple of times. Knowing he would go crazy waiting, he turned his phone over and did what he could to get back on track with his morning. By the time the displays were stocked and the front door was open, there was a new message on his screen.

Ilya
Hi Shane ❤️

Chapter 5

Shane didn’t reply to Rozanov, or check his phone again. He threw himself into his work with such gusto that Jackie was side eyeing him out of concern. Rozanov had probably gone to bed after messaging him, anyway.

By the time he clocked out, he’d worked a 15 hour day. He used to work much longer shifts on the regular, but with Jackie and Rose to help, he’d got into the habit of leaving at four. He kept his head down as he stayed late to prep ingredients, getting much further ahead of the weeks chopping and weighing than he needed to be.

Jackie left at five and after an hour of cleaning the kitchen alone, Shane admitted he really should call it a day. He assembled himself a sandwich from the small deli counter (they offered two sandwich options a month, also on a rotating menu. Shane didn’t want to turn into a sandwich store, but it appealed to the lunch time customers and usually resulted in more bread sales) and carried it upstairs.

Shane left the sandwich and his phone on the kitchen table while he showered off the day's grime and changed into his pajamas - a pair of plaid pants, a white cotton shirt and some thick socks. When he was clean and comfortable, he sat down at the table and started to eat. Finally, he picked his phone back up. He had three texts from Rozanov and one from his mother. He checked his mom’s message first. She was telling him about a new brand of coffee beans his dad had come home with. They were good, apparently. Shane told her he was looking forward to trying them next time he visited, then navigated over to Rozanov’s messages.

Based on the time stamps, it looked like Rozanov really had gone to sleep after his first message. There was a large window of silence, then a picture at two PM. Shane clicked to see it bigger. It was a selfie in a hotel room mirror. Rozanov looked just as sleepy as he did when he came to see Shane, bundled up in the same sweatpants and hoodie combo. His hood was up and his sunglasses were on, despite him being indoors. He was frowning and had one hand on the handle of his cabin sized suitcase. Shane tapped to see the caption.

Ilya
They said no to late check out

The next message was a picture without a caption. A hand too tan to be Rozanov’s held out a party sized box of timbits in what looked to be an airport waiting area. The last message was just text.

Ilya
Going to san diego now

Shane went back to the first picture and saved it to his phone. He zoomed in on Rozanov and looked at him closely. He was sending himself mixed messages here, never mind what impression Rozanov was getting from him.

Shane
Did you land yet?

Ilya
Yes

There were a couple of moments of the typing bubble, then another picture came through. It was a guy from Ilya’s team sitting across from him on the bus, fast asleep. His long legs were sprawled into the aisle and his mouth was wide open.

Ilya
Marly says hi

Shane
I don’t think he does.

Ilya
What are you doing?

Shane hesitated, then snapped a photo of his mostly eaten sandwich and sent it off. Rozanov immediately responded with a heart reaction.

Shane
I just finished work.

Ilya
Only just?

Ilya
It is bedtime for sleepy bakers soon

Shane
Yes. I stayed late to prep ingredients for the week.

He ate the last of his sandwich and put down his phone to go brush his teeth. By the time he brought it to bed with him, there were three more texts.

Ilya
Very responsible

Ilya
Very boring wednesday night

Ilya
Did you fall asleep now?

Shane briefly considered pretending that he had fallen asleep, then remembered Ilya would see that read receipt. He opened the camera and took a selfie with his head deep in the cushion. It was more cushion than face, but you could definitely see a bit of eye and hair if you zoomed in. He sent it before he could think about it too deeply. Rozanov heart reacted again.

Shane
No. Goodnight.

Ilya
Goodnight

***

The texting back and forth continued through the week and into the next. Rozanov would send pictures of anything he thought might tickle Shane’s interest (or rage). He sent pictures of the beach, of his hotel, of dogs he saw out on his runs. He sent one particularly sad photograph of a squashed McDonald's apple pie, then another of the empty container after he’d eaten it. He’d sent a couple more selfies, although he usually had his glasses on and hood up. They were more to give Shane an idea of where he was and what he was doing than to provide him something to admire. Shane saved them anyway. He quite liked the one Rozanov had taken in the reflection of a window - the sunset casting a gold light over the glass. He could see Marly’s impatient silhouette a few steps away, as if Rozanov had stopped both of them in the middle of going somewhere to take a photo for Shane.

On Tuesday afternoon, Shane was working at his desk in the side room of the bakery. This room had been a storage closet when the previous owners had the place, but Shane had sacrificed the original office to create a seating area and resigned himself to his claustrophobic set up.

The bakery was closed on Mondays and Tuesdays and this was when he got his admin tasks done. He’d ordered ingredients, balanced the books and got his inbox down to a much healthier looking number.

Ilya
Are you busy?

Shane
I’m working.

Ilya
See you soon 🙂

Shane supposed he had got plenty done already. He checked his spreadsheets were saved and up to date, then headed out into the kitchen to do some busywork until Rozanov arrived.

Rozanov banged on the door as usual and Shane unlocked it to let him in. He winced at the sight of him and Rozanov laughed.

“Do not look at me like that.”

Rozanov’s left cheekbone was mottled with a bruise, protruding in an ugly kind of way. Shane had been watching Rozanov’s games now that he knew it was expected of him and had seen the punch that left that mark. It looked like Rozanov deserved it, if the shit eating grin the cameras had caught on him were anything to go by.

He looked tired. He always looked tired when Shane saw him, but it was four in the afternoon on a Tuesday and most people would have woken up by now. He looked down at Rozanov’s rolling suitcase.

“Did you come straight here from the airport?”

Rozanov yawned widely and nodded. “I will not wake up in morning. I wanted to say hello.”

Shane watched him rub his eyes and flinch when he was too aggressive over his bruise. It was nice how keen Rozanov was to see him and it would be cruel to make him hover in the closed bakery when he so clearly was ready to rest.

“Have you eaten?”

“Mm, I had McDonald’s at airport.”

“Have you eaten any actual food?”

“Big Mac is food. I had fries also.”

Shane rolled his eyes. No wonder he was dead on his feet. He was probably crashing out from the sugar and carbs. He saved the lecture for another day.

“I was about to make my dinner. Do you want to come upstairs with me?”

Rozanov looked at him warily.

“It’s no bother.” Shane said quickly, in case that was the problem. “I can cook for you too. It won’t be anything complicated.”

Rozanov continued to consider it, then glanced over at the back door that led to Shane’s apartment. It seemed like his curiosity got the better of him.

“Yes, please.”

Shane checked that he’d locked the front door, gave the kitchen a once over, then gestured for Rozanov to follow him out the back exit. It opened into a tiny hallway and he had to nudge Rozanov ahead so he would have room to lock the door behind them. Rozanov sauntered up the stairs, then held out a hand behind himself when he reached the apartment door.

“Your keys?” He asked.

Shane raised an eyebrow, but held out the correct key.

Rozanov turned the key in the lock and let himself into Shane’s home. He looked around with open curiosity.

Shane’s apartment came with the bakery, so he’d never put much thought into whether it suited him or not. The building was from the late 1800’s and had the high ceilings and wonky floors to prove it. He hadn’t really decorated. He’d just white washed the walls and cleaned up the hardwood floors before he moved in his IKEA furniture. There were little bits of personality scattered here and there, mostly thanks to the efforts of his parents. A large woodcut from his mother’s side of the family hung behind the couch and his dad had brought along various lamps and ornaments that had spent the majority of Shane’s childhood in a box in the garage.

Shane watched Rozanov poke through a stack of baking magazines and decided he could adequately entertain himself for a while. He moved through to the kitchen and took stock of what he could make for dinner. Shane wasn’t much for intricate cooking - he worked hard enough in the bakery to not want to stand by the oven for hours here too - but he did want to feed Rozanov something wholesome. He rummaged through the prepped ingredients in his fridge and came out with ricotta, pesto and the butter beans he’d dressed with garlic and chili a couple of days ago. He’d been planning on eating them for the rest of the week, but figured he could sacrifice the plan in order to feed a hungry hockey player.

He heated the beans while he sliced and toasted a loaf of bread, then put together as many slices as he could of the combination. After a moment's consideration, he arranged them on a chopping board and sprinkled oregano and lemon juice on top for more visual appeal.

When he turned around, Rozanov was watching him from the doorway.

“Would you like to eat on the couch?” Shane asked. He was usually strict about eating from the table, but Rozanov really did look exhausted. He nodded gratefully and reached out to take the chopping board from Shane.

Shane grabbed a couple of bottles of water from his fridge and carried them through to the living room, along with a plate for each of them.

They settled down on either end of the couch with a slice of toast each. Rozanov took his first bite and did his usual performance of enjoyment - he closed his eyes and gave a satisfied ‘mm’. When he opened his eyes again, he looked over at Shane.

“Your apartment is nice.”

“Thank you.” Shane said. “It came with the store. I didn’t have much leftover money, so I just did a huge IKEA order to fill it.”

“That explains why it is so boring.”

“Hey! You just said it was nice.”

Rozanov’s lips tugged in his usual small smile. “Yes. Is boring and nice.”

Shane huffed and focused on eating his own toast. It was Rozanov that spoke again.

“You are young to own a bakery.”

Shane pulled a face. He’d heard this a lot when he was first taking over the business. “Yeah. I got lucky.”

Rozanov looked like he’d settled in to listen, so Shane elaborated. “I found this place when I was looking for my first proper job. After my apprenticeships and everything. It was a family business, but Mrs. Dubois - that’s the mom - was getting kind of old and couldn’t do the hours any more. None of the kids wanted to inherit a bakery, so they hired me to help her instead.”

He took a break in the story to scarf down another piece of toast, thinking fondly of Mrs. Dubois. She had been the second generation of her family to own the bakery. Mrs. Dubois liked that Shane could work with her in French, although she often mocked his accent and pretended she couldn’t understand. He’d been very intimidated by her, but she seemed to like him in a strict, matronly kind of way. There had been people much more qualified for the job, but he liked to think his willingness to work hard had shone through to her.

“This is why the store is called Dubois’?” Ilya asked. Shane nodded.

“Mm, yeah. I didn’t name it that. When Mrs. Dubois died, her kids offered to sell me the business. They were still attached to it, obviously. It had been in their family for nearly a century. They gave me a really good price if I agreed to keep the name and some recipes. I rent the building from them. My parents helped a lot, at the beginning. With the money and everything. I had savings and a loan, but they helped too.”

“That is nice of them. Do they live in Canada?”

Shane nodded. “Yeah. I miss them. I go back whenever I can, but it’s hard to leave the store. Are your parents in Russia?”

Ilya nodded his head. He chewed slowly on his toast.

“They must be really proud of you.”

Ilya took another bite and chewed. He hesitated, then spoke diplomatically.

“I try hard to be a son they could be proud of.”

“I don’t see how they couldn’t be. You seem like you’ve done well for yourself.”

Rozanov’s expression was neutral. “I hope so.” He sniffed sharply and looked over at Shane. “Your parents are very proud of you?”

Shane nodded. “Yeah, I think so. They visit every couple of months and they love the bakery. I hope it feels worth it for them, after they did so much to help me get here.”

“I am sure it does.” Rozanov said, levelly. He’d closed off a lot throughout the conversation, perhaps due to tiredness. Shane considered how to bring his spirits back up again.

“Do you want to watch your game from last night with me? I haven’t seen it yet. You won, right?”

Rozanov scoffed, his cocky smile back in place in an instant. “You think I could ever lose to New York? Impossible. Put game on - I will show you how slow Scott Hunter’s response time is. They took him to farm for retirement when horn blew.”

Shane smiled to himself, pleased his ploy had worked. He turned on the TV and navigated to the recorded game. Rozanov had commentary from the very first moment - he was pointing out every mistake the Admirals made and filled Shane in on his favourite chirps.

Shane relaxed into the cushions and looked back and forth between the Rozanov on his couch and the one on TV. He couldn’t see how anybody wouldn’t be proud of him. He’d only known him a couple of months and was bursting with pride. ‘That’s my friend!’ He thought, as he watched the tiny Rozanov on screen shoot the puck into the net. He thought it again as the cameras zoomed in on his wicked grin and post-goal celebrations. He thought it a third time as he turned to look at real life Rozanov giving the same smug look from the opposite end of the couch.

“That is the best hockey player in the league.” Rozanov announced. Shane knew it to be true.

“Scott Hunter just scored, too.”

Rozanov scowled at him. “I will assist goal now. Watch.”

Rozanov’s commentary had slowed down by the end of the second period. By the end of the intermission, he was snoring softly. Shane gave up on the game entirely and turned to watch him. His face had relaxed in a way Shane had never seen before. He looked softer like this. His bruise looked more worrying than devilish. Shane fantasized about tucking a blanket over his chest and gently encouraging him to lie down. Rozanov would probably accept either of those actions from him.

The Shane that would do that would probably brush the curls out his face, too. Perhaps that Rozanov would wake up so late in the evening that he’d decide to stay the night. That Shane would still have to leave early for work, but that Rozanov could come downstairs whenever he was ready to leave. That Shane would have breakfast made for him, ready to take to practice in a brown bag. That might even be a routine for them.

Shane sighed. It wouldn’t be that simple. Rozanov was famous. Even if Shane wanted him, he wasn’t sure how they would navigate a queer relationship in the public eye. He didn’t know how that might impact his business. He turned back to the TV and watched the third period come to a close. TV Rozanov skated laps around his team in pure joy, spitting out his mouth guard to beam at Marly as he hurtled right into him.

Real life Rozanov gave a particularly loud snore and jolted himself awake. He looked around as if he were trying to find the noise that woke him. His eyes landed on Shane.

“I fell asleep.” He said blankly.

“Yeah. You looked like you needed it.”

“Oh. I should go now.”

Shane nodded. He scrambled to his feet and walked over to the front door to see him out. Rozanov was slower to get up. He collected his suitcase from where he’d left it by the shoe rack and hesitated in front of Shane.

Shane tucked his thumbs anxiously into the pockets of his jeans. Ilya’s eyes darted to them, then back up to his face. He reached out with his free hand and clapped Shane on the shoulder. It was a bit of a bro move, except his hand lingered longer than expected. It squeezed at the meat between Shane’s shoulder and neck. Shane imagined how easy it would be to reach out and hold Rozanov the same way. It would also be easy for Rozanov to pull him closer with this grip. He’d kiss back, he thought, if that happened.

Rozanov dropped his hand and opened the door. “Bye, Shane. Thank you for the food.”

“Thank you for coming.” Shane said. He couldn’t help it if his tone was flat. He shuffled a few steps to the right to watch Rozanov walk down the stairs. “Text me when you get home. I don’t want you to fall asleep in some guy's cab.”

Chapter 6

Shane had spent most of the night laid in bed thinking about how deflated he felt when Rozanov took his hand away from his shoulder. He couldn’t avoid the fact that he’d been hoping they would kiss.

True to his word, Rozanov hadn’t shown up at the bakery that morning. It gave Shane plenty more time to stew in his worries. He needed to figure this out. He really liked Rozanov and he didn’t want to string him along while he dithered over what he wanted. Why was Rozanov even entertaining him? Surely he had a long list of people who knew for sure they were attracted to him.

Shane knew he was attracted to him. It was if he should act on it that was the problem. What if they kissed and he realised it felt just as lackluster as being with a woman? He’d have to explain that he’d been confused. Rozanov would think he was an idiot.

He was piping tidy circles of icing onto cronuts when Rose rapped against the kitchen wall. True to her knock, Rozanov stood at the counter chatting with her. He looked gorgeous. He wore an easy smile as he nodded along to whatever Rose was saying, but his eyes darted to the kitchen several times. The bakery had a large cut out in the wall that used to function as a service hatch - these days it was just a window that customers could peek through to see Shane at work. He regretted not boarding it up. He felt exposed and silly. After worrying about Rozanov for the past nineteen hours, he wasn’t sure he had anything to say that wouldn’t expose him as being mid freak out.

He caught Rozanov’s eye accidentally. Shane flushed pink and hurriedly picked up as many items from the table as he could. With a large tub of flour in one hand and several baking trays in the other, he looked as apologetically as he could towards the counter. “Sorry!” He called. “I’m uh. I’m really busy!”

Rozanov gave him a questioning look. Even Rose turned around to raise an eyebrow at him. He guessed he hadn’t played it very cool, then.

“You should tell Rozanov to get some of the peanut butter cookies.” He said, fumbling to put the baking trays back down. They clanged loudly against the counter. He hoped if he kept talking it would distract from his weird performance. “He’ll like them, I think.”

Rozanov kept watching, then looked back at Rose. Shane saw her shrug.

“I will have the cookies. A box of them, please.” Rozanov said.

Rose packed them up. Shane could only hope she was pivoting the conversation away from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rozanov putting some cash in the tip jar. He had a bag, so had presumably bought more than just the cookies. He left and Shane let out a sigh of relief. He put down the tub of flour.

Rose glanced at the clock and decided it was late enough that she could get away with locking the front door. She flipped the sign to closed and turned to give Shane a scathing look. “What the fuck was that?”

“What?” Shane asked, as if he didn’t know he was emanating the same energy as a startled rabbit.

“This.” Rose said, gesturing at him.

Shane stared at her for a moment, then swallowed. “Do you think Rozanov is gay?”

That wasn’t what he’d meant to say.

“What? No.” Rose looked at him like she’d never seen him before in her life. “Is that why you were weird?”

“No.” Shane said.

Rose continued to stare.

“I think I am.” Shane said. He was forcing the words out of himself. “Gay, that is.”

Rose blanched, then quickly smoothed out her face. It immediately returned to an expression of disbelief. “You have a crush on Ilya?”

“No.” Shane said quickly. Then almost as fast. “Yes. I don’t know.”

“Shane.” Rose said gently. She finally came into the kitchen, approaching him kind of slowly. She stopped a few feet away and leaned against a counter. “Do you think he knows?”

Shane shrugged. He wasn’t about to get into that.

“He does really like you.” Rose said. “He’s really nice.”

Shane nodded.

Rose sighed and reached out to put her hand on Shane’s upper arm. She rubbed it a few times, then let her hand drag all the way down to his. Shane linked their fingers and let their hands hang between the two of them. He stared down at them to avoid looking at her.

“Have you.. liked any other men?” Rose asked.

Shane shook his head.

“But you don’t like women.” She clarified.

“I liked you.” Shane said, breaking his silence. He swung their hands between them gently for emphasis.

“Shane..” Rose said sadly. “I don’t think that we were..” She hesitated. He could feel her studying his face before speaking again. “Don’t you think that we felt a little bit.. lavender..?”

“Lavender?”

“You know, like when movie stars would pair up and get married so nobody would think they were gay.”

“I wasn’t doing that with you.” Shane said immediately. He looked up at her face to make sure she understood. She nodded quickly.

“No, I know. I know you loved me, Shane. It just never felt like you wanted me.”

Shane frowned. He looked back down at their hands. He supposed he hadn’t. He’d thought that he had, sometimes. When she was out of town for a job he’d be so excited to have her back. He would go to her apartment early to make sure she had milk and coffee and daydream about welcome home kisses, yet when he actually had her in his arms he felt nothing but nerves and underwhelm. He really had tried to make it work.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Shane. It was years ago.”

Shane wondered if she talked to her friends about him, back then. They’d only dated for five months - he didn’t think he had earned her secrecy the way he had these days. Maybe she complained about their bad sex to them. Would they have suggested that he might be gay? Had they been waiting for him to come out this whole time? He was too embarrassed to ask about it.

“I don’t know what to do.” He admitted.

“What do you mean? It’s not a death sentence.” Rose's tone felt too light for the crushing anxiety inside of him and Shane let their hands separate.

“I think I really like him.”

“You could tell him that.”

“I don’t want to.. experiment.. on him. What if I’m bad? What if I don’t like it?”

“Then why don’t you try and find somebody else? We could totally go out sometime. I’ll be your wingwoman. I know a really nice gay bar I could take you to.”

Shane cringed. “I don’t want to fuck a stranger.”

“You could get to know him first.” Rose said, like it was obvious. She sighed. “I think you should just tell Ilya. He’s really nice. He loves it here. At least if you’re honest with him, you don’t have to wonder how things might have gone.”

He sighed deeply and looked over at the stool Rozanov usually sat on. He thought of their quiet mornings and how empty his days would feel if he stopped showing up. He thought of how much more he could have, if he dared ask for it. He could have Rozanov upstairs in his apartment, too. He thought of stocking Rozanov’s fridge the day before he got back from a trip. Kissing him when he got back home. Maybe it would be the feeling he had been searching for. He could feel a large, empty hole opening up in the pit of his stomach. It was fear, but also longing. He nodded.

“What would his fans think?”

“I think you’re thinking a bit too far ahead.” Rose said.

“I don’t want it to be a public.. Thing.”

“It might not have to be.” She replied, gently. “I’m sure you could figure something out. You should talk to him before you start worrying about that.”

Shane knew there was no letting go of a thought once it had entered his mind, but he didn’t feel like forcing Rose to discuss it any further. He nodded, pretending she had reassured him. It was almost 5pm. The cronuts would keep until the morning. He turned back to the bench and started to box them up. “Will you help me clean? We can close early today.”

Rose nodded. She squeezed his bicep and went back out to the shop floor. He listened to her fill the mop bucket and start shuffling around chairs and thought of how thankful he was that she had stayed in his life.

Chapter 7

Chapter Notes

Shane didn’t give himself any time to back out of it. He waited until Rose left, then flopped down in his desk chair and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He took a deep breath, as if he were about to actually say something out loud, then held it in his mouth as he typed.

Shane
Hey.

Rozanov read it immediately. He was always so fast.

Ilya
Hi.

Shane
Sorry I was weird.

Ilya
You were weird?

Ilya
I didn’t notice

Ilya
You looked very busy holding box

Shane
Fuck off

Ilya
😔

Shane
Do you still want to have dinner with me?

Ilya
I thought that was bad idea

Shane
I would like to have dinner with you.

Ilya
Tonight?

Shane
Tomorrow? I can finish at two.

Ilya
This is lunch time

Shane
Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?

Ilya
Maybe

Shane
Rozanov.

Ilya
OK

Shane
I’ll text you the address. We can meet there at three?

Ilya
OK 😊

Shane let out a deep breath. He heart reacted to Rozanov’s last message, then powered up the computer. He had a few ideas of where they should go, but wanted to check the menus and pictures before he sent Rozanov an address. After a half hour staring at google reviews, he reverted back to his original idea and texted Rozanov the address to a restaurant his friend Hayden worked at. It was more of an evening type place, but they opened at noon and he knew he liked the food there. He also knew the booths had high backs and a private feel to them. He didn’t want to risk trying somewhere new and have it be bright and loud while he wrestled with a personal crisis.

***

Shane arrived early to his reservation. He walked up and down the street several times so the staff wouldn’t see him loitering outside the door, then stopped when he worried he might sweat on his linen shirt. He hung around until he was only fifteen minutes early and decided it was an acceptable time to approach the maître d'. She was welcoming enough and didn’t hesitate when Shane asked if he could have a booth in the back corner. He didn’t want any fans catching sight of Rozanov and interrupting their meal. He ordered a couple of sparkling waters and settled in to wait.

Rozanov arrived five minutes before three. He walked right past the welcome desk and scanned the restaurant for Shane. When he spotted him, he strolled over and settled at the opposite side of the booth. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Shane said. He felt brutally awkward. He took a sip of his water and forced himself to look at Rozanov properly. He wore a black knit sweater that looked expensive and soft. When Shane dragged his eyes up to his face, he was looking back at Shane evenly. His gaze darted to somewhere around his cheekbones, then back up to hold eye contact.

“This is for me?” Rozanov questioned, gesturing to the second glass of water. He took a drink before Shane could confirm or deny. “What will you have to eat?”

“I always get the salmon here.” Shane said. “I come here often. My friend Hayden, he’s the dessert chef. We did an apprenticeship together in Montreal, so it’s really nice that we’re both here in Boston. Jackie, from the bakery - she’s his wife.”

Rozanov let him ramble. He nodded. “I will get the salmon too.”

Shane straightened up and put on his best ‘i’m ready to order’ face until a waitress came over. He ordered the salmon, then turned back to Rozanov. He was looking at him with fondness.

“You look nice.”

“Thank you. You too. I didn’t know you owned clothes that weren’t Bears merch.”

Rozanov rolled his eyes. “I visit you before gym. I did not know I must dress to impress.”

Shane shrugged. “You managed it anyway, I think.”

Rozanov gave him a short, interested look, then smiled gratefully at the waitress as she brought over their plates.

“Do you only hire friends to work at bakery?”

Shane took a bite of his salmon. “Yeah. I only have Rose and Jackie, at the moment. They both need flexible jobs, so I just let them figure out their hours between them. I don’t mind, as long as they put it on the calendar.”

“Ah. You are very kind boss.”

“They’re my friends. I’m actually a bit scared to hire anybody else. I think I can be a bit.. intense.”

Rozanov looked at him. “Intense how?”

Shane regretted bringing the conversation to this. He didn’t want to be telling Ilya he was a control freak right off the bat. It wasn’t like he’d be able to keep it secret very long anyway, though.

“I like things done a certain way. It.. throws me off my game, sometimes. If things aren’t right.”

Rozanov smiled and nodded. “You sound like hockey player. I spend my whole life catering to these mens rituals. Marly bought me new underwear because he thought old ones were 'throwing off game'.”

“You let him do that?”

“Is fun to be matching.”

Shane laughed. “Do you have a ritual?”

“No.” Ilya said smugly. “I am too good at hockey to need this.”

-

Rozanov finished his meal before Shane. He cleared his throat, then fixed his gaze somewhere over by the bar. “You said no to dinner with me.”

Shane cringed. “Yeah. I changed my mind.”

“Ah.”

Shane lay his utensils down carefully, straightening them out on his plate with precision. “I think I would like to see more of you. Outside the bakery, that is. If you still want that.”

Rozanov raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t making this easy for Shane.

“Rozanov..”

“Ilya.” Rozanov interrupted. Shane hesitated. He supposed he had been thinking of him by his surname this whole time. It's what he was used to seeing on posters and the TV. Most of the people he did his apprenticeships with would call each other by their surnames too, no matter which country he was in. It made things simple when every other guy he met was called Jean- something or other.

“Ilya.” Shane repeated. He knew he wasn’t quite hitting the vowels right. He would practice later.

Ilya nodded. He looked pleased. “What changed?”

Shane chewed his lip. He leaned back in his seat while the waitress took their empty plates, then looked down at the empty space on the table once she was gone.

“I’ve been thinking a lot.”

“Must be hard.”

“Shut up. No, I’ve been thinking. I didn’t think I really.. I didn’t.” He hesitated. His mind jumped back to the horrifying idea that he’d misunderstood this whole thing. Maybe Rozanov - Ilya - had just wanted to go to a sports bar. He interrupted his own previous sentence, desperate for clarification before he tried to come out as gay. “You were asking me on a date, right? When you called?”

Ilya looked amused again. “Yes, Shane. It was a date.”

Shane nodded quickly. He felt a little zing in his stomach. A tiny firework exploded amongst his longing and fear.

“Right. Yeah.” He fiddled with his glass of water, turning it around on the tabletop. “I’d never really.. I didn’t think about men, like that. But I’m thinking, maybe..?”

“You would like to think about me like that?”

“Yeah.”

Ilya smiled at him. It was the ammunition Shane needed to pull himself together and be direct.

“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

“Oh really?” Ilya looked delighted, now. He was leaning back in the booth with an arm propped up on the bench back. It made his chest look even broader and emphasized his strong shoulders. Shane let himself look.

“Yes.”

Ilya glanced around the restaurant. Under the table, he stretched out a leg and let his calf rest against Shane’s. Shane felt like every cell in his body had relocated to that one point of contact.

“Perhaps you will let me take you to my house?”

Shane nodded. Ilya smiled. He reached out and brushed his thumb against Shane’s cheek, then stood up and approached their waitress. Shane watched him settle the cheque, then went to meet him by the front door.

*

The drive to Ilya’s house was kind of awkward. Much like the last time he’d been in Ilya’s car, he felt silly in the bucket seat. Ilya made it look good. He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting idly on the gear stick. He should be in the adverts for these cars, Shane thought. They probably designed them with him in mind. Sexy and masculine. He did everything with such ease.

Shane was going to kiss him soon.

He let himself look at Ilya’s lips. They were plush and pink. He had a couple of small scars and moles and his bruise was healing up well. Ilya had styled his hair nicely for lunch. Shane was used to seeing it flattened out by caps and hoodies, but today his curls were neatly smoothed off his face.

Ilya could probably feel Shane’s wandering eyes. He glanced over with a cocky smile, then carried out a slow, appraising once over that had Shane adjusting his posture in the seat. The cockiness lost its edge, fondness creeping in. He reached out a hand and let it sit heavily on Shane’s thigh. Shane broke off their eye contact to look down at it instead. He wasn’t a small guy - he’d always worked out and his thighs were strong and large. Ilya’s hand spanned it easily. He squeezed on the muscle there in a single, slow knead.

Shane imagined the hand moving higher. He was getting ahead of himself. He looked out the window and tried to think of nothing.

Neither of them spoke. Ilya left the main road and drove up a smaller, winding route. A gate opened automatically as he approached it and he carried on until he reached a turning circle outside a large, modern house. There were a couple more sports cars parked up nearby, along with a weird silver sculpture that reminded Shane of scrunched up aluminum foil. Ilya was flashy enough with his wealth that Shane never forgot he was rich, but he didn’t think he’d fully comprehended it until this moment. “Jesus Christ.”

“You like it?” Ilya asked. His voice was smug. Shane was coming to realize that Ilya’s smugness was a cover for his pride. He was proud of his big house and his hockey wins and his good looks. He just didn’t want to show that. They both left the car and walked up the path to the house.

“Did you build this?”

“No.”

“It’s really nice..”

Shane looked up at the concrete walls and looming front door while Ilya used a code to let them in. It was bright and airy inside. An entire wall was made of glass and looked out onto greenery. Shane took a few steps in and turned on the spot to look around. No wonder he’d called Shane’s apartment boring.

He finished his rotation and looked back at Ilya. He was still standing by the door, watching Shane.

“Do you still want this?” Ilya asked. He took a couple of slow steps closer, until he was an arms length away.

Shane huffed out a laugh, thinking of Ilya’s warm hand on his thigh in the car. “I think I need it.”

Ilya’s eyes flicked up to Shane’s. He reached out and put his palm on the side of Shane’s neck. His thumb rubbed the edge of his jaw. “Say that again.”

Shane swallowed. He knew Ilya could feel it - he felt his adam's apple press against his palm with the motion. “I think I need you.”

Ilya groaned. His hand slid further to cup the back of Shane’s neck. His other hand landed on Shane’s hip and pulled him closer, until their bodies were pressed tightly together. His mouth came down on Shane’s crushingly, showing no mercy to the fact that Shane had clearly been nervous for this.

Shane fumbled for a moment, in unknown waters. His hands flew to Ilya’s hips but the gesture felt too tender for such an urgent kiss. He pushed them under the back of his sweater until he was palming Ilya’s broad back, using his grip there to pull him close. They were connected from chest to thigh and it still didn’t feel like enough. He’d crawl inside Ilya right now, if he’d let him.

He settled for encouraging Ilya’s tongue into his mouth and pressing his own against it. Ilya grunted into the kiss and pushed Shane backwards until he bumped up against a wall. Shane leaned back, grateful for the support. Ilya’s mouth moved to his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses between his jaw and collar. “Good?” He asked.

Shane let out a quivering noise he’d never heard himself make before. He ducked his head and chased Ilya’s lips again. Ilya indulged him immediately. His hands roamed Shane’s body wildly, squeezing his waist and pecs, then roaming down to his ass and thighs. Shane felt desired in a way he’d never before. It was like Ilya wanted to hold every part of him at once. It felt like it went on forever - they’d pull apart gasping and then lean back in for more. Ilya’s palm slid to his crotch. He squeezed once, then pulled back from the kiss to get a look at Shane’s face. Shane had no idea what he’d see there, but took it as an invitation to reach out and get his own hand on Ilya’s dick. He could feel the length of him, thick and hot through his jeans. Shane let his head thunk back against the wall and looked at Ilya with half lidded eyes. “I want..”

“What?”

Shane didn’t know. He keened as Ilya unbuttoned his slacks and palmed him through his briefs.

“Me?” Ilya asked. Shane nodded.

Ilya pinned him back against the wall with a hand on his sternum. He dragged his mouth down Shane’s chin, then his neck. His hand moved to push the hem of his shirt up and then his tongue was on Shane’s chest. He moved downwards still, kissing and licking and pausing to bite at the small, soft swell of Shane’s stomach. Shane groaned, pushing his dick against Ilya’s hand. Ilya squeezed again, then pulled his mouth off Shane’s belly and scrambled to get his briefs out of the way. Shane stared down at him in awe. Catching him looking, Ilya grinned. He spread his knees wide and gripped his own cock while leaning in and running his tongue against Shane’s length in a long and indulgent lick. He was showing off. He looked like nothing Shane had ever seen before. Shane was going to cum before he even found out what his mouth felt like.

He reached down and shoved his hand in the hair at the back of Ilya’s head, pulling his mouth closer. It was rude, probably. He didn’t care. Ilya was teasing him. Ilya made an amused noise and took Shane fully into his mouth. Shane gasped, then moaned. He did everything he could not to rock forwards into his mouth and instead just take what was being given. What he was getting was Ilya’s throat tight around the head of his dick. Warm, wet heat and relentless sucking. He didn’t stand a chance at lasting.

“Ilya, please.. Ilya.” He tugged at his hair, trying to get his attention. “I’m going to.. Ilya.”

Ilya ignored him, pushing harder. Both his hands held tightly to the backs of Shane’s thighs, keeping him in place. Shane curled forward as he came, gasping as Ilya worked him through it.

Ilya held his spent dick on his tongue where Shane could see it. He curled the tip of his tongue against the underside and Shane quivered, sensitive. “Fuck.”

Ilya laughed. He finally pulled away and sprawled on the floor at Shane’s feet. His dick was hard and he was leaning back on his arms. Shane could see cum on his lips. Ilya saw him looking and licked it away slowly. “Do you want a drink?”

What Shane wanted was his hand back on Ilya’s dick.

“Sure.”

Ilya got to his feet and sauntered to the open plan kitchen. He pulled a bottle of vodka from the freezer and filled two shot glasses, holding one out to Shane. Shane took it, but didn’t immediately drink.

“Za nas” Ilya said, clinking his glass against Shane’s before swallowing it down. Shane watched his throat bob as he swallowed. He drank his own shot and put the glass down on the counter.

“What does that mean?”

Ilya shrugged. He leaned backwards against the counter and looked Shane over. Shane moved forward, crowding into Ilya’s personal space. He couldn’t get out of his orbit.

He pressed his hand against Ilya’s stomach and felt abs tense up under his touch. Wanting to see, he grabbed the hem of his sweater and pushed it upwards to expose the muscles. Ilya seemed content to let him look. Shane pushed the fabric higher with both hands, revealing strong pecs and tidy chest hair.

Ilya pulled his sweater the rest of the way off and Shane grabbed hold of his biceps, feeling them flex under his touch. He glanced up at Ilya’s face, then back down to his chest as he built up the nerve to reciprocate the blowjob. He moved one hand to Ilya’s right pec and rubbed his thumb against the nipple until it grew hard. Satisfied, he gave the left side the same treatment. He leaned down so he could feel his handiwork against his tongue, sucking nipple and flesh into his mouth.

“Shane.” Ilya grunted.

He rocked his hips forward and Shane took the hint. He unbuckled Ilya’s belt and pushed his jeans and briefs down. His jeans were too tight to go far. After a couple of shoves, Ilya laughed and took them off entirely. Shane thought it was kind of stupid to be completely naked in the kitchen. Any humor was overtaken by how fucking hot Ilya looked. He didn’t look stupid. He was leaning back against the counter again, unabashed by the way his dick arched up towards them.

Shane drank in the sight, then dropped down to his knees. He gave Ilya’s dick a couple of strokes before he felt ready to put his lips around it. It felt big. Huge, even. He closed his eyes and focused on sinking down the way Ilya had for him. He managed a couple of back and forths before he moved too far forward and felt like he was choking. He pulled back to cough.

Ilya didn’t seem to mind. He was looking down at Shane with his mouth hanging open. He reached out and put a hand over Shane’s jaw, rubbing gently with his thumb.

“Is big.” He said. “Go steady.”

Shane laughed at the sheer amount of arrogance in his tone. He jacked him quickly, to take him down a peg. “It’s nothing special.”

It was. It was huge and gorgeous and all for him. Shane took the tip back into his mouth and worked it while he let his hand take care of the rest. Ilya was loud above him - a constant stream of grunts and heavy breaths that let Shane know he was doing a good job. He obliged when Ilya started pushing him away and pulled off, continuing the pace with his fist. He guessed he didn’t move back far enough, because Ilya’s cum shot out over his face. Ilya groaned. His other hand came down to smear the mess over his cheeks. “Fuck, Shane.”

Shane remembered how good Ilya had looked on the ground and wanted to have the same effect. He stayed kneeling where he was, looking up at Ilya. Ilya looked down at him with glassy eyes, before dropping to his knees and pushing his tongue back into Shane’s mouth. He muttered in Russian as he pulled back, then in English. “You make me crazy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. So fucking gorgeous.”

Shane blushed. He felt ridiculous being bashful with cum drying over his cheeks. “I should uh.. Is there a bathroom? I’ll wash my face.”

Ilya nodded and gestured down the hall. “Last door on left.”

*

When Shane came out of the bathroom, Ilya had put his jeans back on. He was sprawled on the couch with a hockey game playing on the TV.

“Don’t you ever get tired of hockey?” Shane asked.

Ilya shrugged. He patted the couch next to himself and Shane sat, letting Ilya’s arm fall around his shoulders. “You read baking magazines after work.”

Shane made a noise of agreement. He watched a couple of players scuffle for the puck.

“When did you start playing hockey?”

“Mm.. Maybe three. Too young to remember.” He paused as if he was done speaking, then offered more information. “It was my mama's idea. I was very naughty child. She thought it would help if I had special thing of my own, without my brother.”

Shane smiled. He tried to imagine Ilya that young, causing chaos wherever he went.

“Is your brother younger, or older?”

“Older.” Ilya unfastened the top couple of buttons of Shane’s shirt so he could slide his hand under the collar. He squeezed his shoulder. “I do not want to talk about him.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Is okay.”

They were both silent while Shane figured out how to pivot the conversation back to where it had been.

“Did the hockey work? Did you stay out of trouble?”

Ilya gave a wry smile and pinched the meat of Shane’s pec. “What do you think?”

Shane laughed, which is what Ilya wanted. He let his head droop to Ilya’s shoulder.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in trouble.”

“This does not surprise me.” Ilya said, pressing his lips against the top of Shane’s head. Shane couldn’t resist tipping his head further back to collect a kiss on the lips.

“I could have been a troublemaker.”

Ilya laughed at him. “You are in bed before trouble could even begin.” He pressed more kisses against Shane’s forehead. “My boring, hardworking baker.”

Shane felt giddy at Ilya claiming him as his, but it also sparked worry. What did this make them now? Boyfriends? Were they doing this, for real? He turned his face back towards the TV.

“Can you drive me back home? It’s getting late.”

*

The drive home was quiet, but comfortable. Ilya’s hand rested on Shane’s thigh for most of the ride and Shane traced lines over his knuckles and up and down his fingers. He lifted it to his mouth to kiss, just because he could. He tongued a knuckle experimentally at one point, earning a heated glance and gentle smack to the cheek.

Ilya walked him to his front door, crowding Shane into the tiny hallway at the foot of the stairs. Shane couldn’t help but grin. He put his hands on Ilya’s hips and leaned in to kiss him.

“I’m not inviting you in.” He said.

Ilya whined, even though he must have known Shane would be going to bed soon anyway.

“You are so cruel to me. I am patient for months, and you are still cruel.”

Shane pressed a kiss to the corner of Ilya’s mouth, then to his neck. “I know. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Mm, I knew it would be worth it.”

Shane blushed. He left another kiss on Ilya’s mouth. “Goodnight, Ilya.”

Ilya put a hand on the wall either side of Shane’s shoulders and pushed in for another kiss. It was headier than the ones Shane initiated, buzzing with an undercurrent of something filthy.

“Goodnight, Shane.”

Chapter End Notes

Dear reader, i hope this smut finds you well.

I'd apologise for it arriving so abruptly but honestly I can't imagine a universe in which Shane admits he wants Ilya and then doesn't immediately decide he has to suck his dick for further research. He's just a thorough kind of guy.

I'm getting close to 1000 hits, so I just wanted to say hello! thank you for being here and I hope you are enjoying the story! 🫣

Chapter 8

Chapter Notes

Shane spent the next couple of weeks feeling like he was walking on clouds.

Ilya had come by the bakery several times before his next road trip, and his texts were now solidly flirtatious. Shane was giddy with it, like a teenager with a crush. Rose had seen it on him and he’d spilled the details immediately, pleased to be able to talk about Ilya with a sense of clarity.

Not that he had total clarity - all he really knew is that they enjoyed each other's company. He didn’t know where it was going, or if Ilya wanted this to be a serious thing. Shane didn’t mind. It felt comfortable, actually, to not have any pressure on him while he came to terms with his shifting identity.

He clearly liked men, but it was hard to think of himself as a gay man. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to have that as a part of his character. It was nice to not feel locked into anything just yet, even if he did spend every waking hour looking forward to seeing Ilya again.

Ilya was back in Boston today and Shane had checked that he’d be coming to the bakery to say hello. Nervously, he asked if he would like to bring an overnight bag with him. Ilya filled the screen with winking emojis, then said yes.

*

Ilya

I’m on my way 🙂

Shane smiled down at his phone. He heart reacted to the message, then set about tidying the kitchen. It was getting close to four and he hoped he could be done by the time Ilya got there.

He wasn’t, of course. He had his elbows deep in dishwater trying to unclog the drain when he heard Rose greet Ilya brightly. He glanced over his shoulder as Ilya came into the kitchen.

“I can’t kiss you yet. This is gross.”

“Ah.” Ilya said. He walked over and kissed Shane anyway. “Are you almost done?”

“Yeah.. almost. I just have to sort the sink and wipe down the counters. I need to take the rest of the bakes out to Rose, too.”

Ilya nodded. He picked up a cloth and started to clean the counters.

“I didn’t mean you do it!”

Shane found the offending piece of dough in the drain and pulled it free, almost gagging as he did so. This was his least favorite part of his job.

“I like to help.” Ilya wrung the cloth under the hot tap now he could see the water was moving again.

Shane smiled and reached out to squeeze his side gently. “Thank you.”

*

“I will cook for you.” Ilya said, once Shane was showered and in his pajamas and curled up on the couch. He had his phone open to a delivery website and was holding it out to Shane. “I can make anything you want.”

Shane rolled his eyes, but took the phone gratefully. He scrolled through the options and clicked into a Thai restaurant he knew he liked.

“Can you actually cook?”

“A little. Some Russian dishes. I mainly use meal service now.”

Shane glanced up at him curiously. “What’s Russian food like?”

“Hmm. A lot of potatoes. Is not good for my macros.”

“And Big Macs are?”

“Yes.” Ilya said, grinning. “Perfect, actually.”

Shane made a noise in the back of his throat and handed the phone back. He’d picked a noodle dish for himself and leaned in to watch what Ilya would choose. Ilya doubled Shane’s noodles, then added curry, spring rolls and rice. He checked out and showed Shane the 45 minute wait time.

“You want to watch TV?” He asked, his hand creeping up Shane’s thigh. Shane tilted his head and looked at Ilya through his lashes. He zeroed in on his lips.

“No.”

Ilya grinned wolfishly. He turned over to cage him Shane in against the couch, hovering over his lap with a knee either side. “Good.”

*

Shane leaned against Ilya’s chest and played with his fingers absently.

“Have you always liked men?”

Ilya made an interested sound. “Maybe.” He turned his hand over so he could touch Shane’s in return. “I had lots of crushes on men when I was young. Lots of crushes on women, too.”

“Do you like men more?”

“It’s not like that. I don’t have a preference.” He moved his hand away from Shane's and trailed his hand up the side of his neck, rubbing the sensitive spot beneath the hinge of his jaw. Shane leaned into the touch. “I don’t think it is so different. You have dated women too, yes?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I'm like you. It feels.. very different, for me.”

Ilya huffed out a laugh and adjusted Shane’s head so he could kiss the top of it.

“This is because I am so good at sucking dick.”

Shane snorted and thunked his head against Ilya’s chest.

“Whatever.” He hesitated, then asked. “When was your first time? With a guy?”

“I was.. fourteen, maybe. It was very awkward. We were experimenting.”

“In Russia? Who was it?”

“Yes, in Russia. It was my coach’s son. It was quite dangerous for us. I wanted to move to America and I was very worried somebody would tell and sabotage me. He is only person I trusted enough.”

“Oh.” Shane said. He was glad Ilya had somebody like that, even if he felt a twinge of jealousy. He wasn’t sure if he was jealous over somebody else getting to do that for Ilya, or that Ilya had found somebody to experiment with so young. Shane had been quite prudish as a teenager. He’d never felt the urge to chase girls around the way his friends did.

“You knew you wanted to move to America when you were fourteen?”

“Since I was twelve.” Ilya said. “The American Dream sounded very nice to me.”

Shane thought of Ilya’s love of McDonalds and Coca Cola. His fast cars and big house. His face on posters around Boston. “Do you think you’re living it?”

Ilya hummed thoughtfully. “Sometimes.”

Shane let the conversation fall back into silence. He thought about his own life in Boston and the things he had accomplished here. He had never yearned to be in America. He supposed he’d yearned to be in Europe, as a teenager. He worked single mindedly towards being accepted onto training programmes in France and Denmark, but had always wanted to go home afterwards. He wondered what it felt like to want something so badly that you could actively abandon your home for it.

“Do you go back to Russia often?”

“No. I have no time.”

“Do you miss it?”

“No.”

Shane felt like he had misstepped. He let the silence return and watched the clock on his sideboard tick. It was getting late. Shane shuffled around, trying to decide how to excuse himself to bed without seeming like he was dodging the weird atmosphere he had created here. That was what he was doing. Ilya looked down at him.

“What?”

“I usually go to bed around now.”

Ilya glanced at the clock, then Shane. “Okay.” He said easily. “I will come too.”

Shane scrunched up his nose. “You don’t have to. I was going to say that you could stay out here and watch TV, or whatever.”

“I want to.” Ilya got to his feet and ambled over to the bathroom. Shane saw him neaten his hair, then pull his toothbrush out of his travel bag and squeeze toothpaste onto it. He wet it and put it in his mouth, then looked at Shane’s reflection in the mirror.

“Mhjmhm?” He mumbled, words incoherent around the toothbrush. Shane knew he was making fun of him. Ilya squeezed to the side to make room as he went to brush his own teeth.

Teeth brushed, Ilya stayed next to Shane to watch him go through his evening skincare. He asked what a couple of the products were and let Shane rub moisturizer over his cheeks.

“Does it feel nice?” Shane asked. His mom brought him skincare back from Japan every couple of years. Using it reminded him of being a child, sitting on the side of the tub and waiting for her to be ready to take him to school in the morning. She would always finish her routine by rubbing sun cream onto both of their faces, telling him how special it was so he wouldn’t complain about the sticky texture.

Ilya hummed happily. He looked relaxed, leaning against the wall. Shane wished he could rub every lotion he had on him, just to keep him here looking so soft and domestic.

“Okay.” Shane said, once he was done. He went through to the bedroom and crawled under the sheets. Ilya joined him, his arm falling easily around Shane’s waist. Shane listened to him breathe.

“Do you sleep with the lights on?” Ilya asked.

Shane blushed. “No. I just didn’t know if you were going to go to sleep yet.”

Ilya leaned over Shane to switch the lights off. He settled back down and pulled Shane tighter against him. Shane hummed happily, stretching his socked feet further back so he could tuck them between Ilya’s shins. “Are you tired?”

“No.” Ilya said. He kissed Shane’s neck. “Perhaps I will bring puzzle books next time. I can do them in bed.”

“You do puzzles?”

“Sometimes.”

Shane smiled. He took hold of one of Ilya’s hands and brought it up to his lips, so he would feel his happiness. Ilya made a content sound.

*

Shane’s alarm clock reached its full brightness at 3am. The audio track - birds cooing and chirping - rang through the room. Ilya groaned and turned his head from side to side, eyes squeezed shut. “What the fuck? Why are birds doing that?”

Shane grinned. He switched the sound off and crawled on top of Ilya. He didn’t want to kiss his mouth with his morning breath, but he pressed his lips to his forehead. “My alarm. Sorry.”

Ilya slid his hands over Shane’s thighs, pressing his face into the joint of his shoulder. He made a grumbling sound. “You will make me get up?”

“No.” Shane spread his legs a little wider as Ilya explored the shape of his ass. “You can stay here as long as you want.”

Ilya sighed happily now. He pulled his face away from Shane’s neck and pouted for a kiss. Shane gave it, mouth staying firmly closed.

“I’ll go get ready.”

He shuffled around the apartment quietly, but couldn’t resist going back to the bedroom for one last look before he went to work. Ilya looked so sweet, wrapped up in the duvet. Shane put a glass of water on the bedside table and brushed the curls back from his forehead. Ilya looked up at him sleepily and pouted for another kiss. Shane obliged, this time letting Ilya lure him into parting his lips. It was a little gross when Ilya still hadn’t brushed, but he wanted to indulge him.

*

It was exciting to be in the bakery when he knew Ilya was upstairs, asleep in his bed. It felt like his life had fit around the new addition so smoothly - frictionless and thrilling.

As soon as the first loaves of the day were cool enough, Shane sliced one up and put together a couple of sandwiches. He toasted them lightly so they would keep well, wrapped them up in brown paper and tucked them inside a bag. He added a blueberry muffin and one of the apples he kept around for his own lunch breaks.

He hoped it wouldn’t feel patronising to send Ilya off to practice with lunch like he was a kindergartner. It just felt so good to share his hard work with him.

He printed a to-go receipt with ‘Ilya’ written bold at the top and stapled it to the bag, then left it on the counter where Ilya would see.

*

Ilya came into the kitchen an hour or so later, when the clock was pushing 7am. Shane was assembling a carrot cake when he heard the door to the kitchen open. He focused intently while he made sure the layers were straight, then looked up at Ilya. Ilya lit up under Shane’s attention and came closer.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” Shane said, leaning in so he could take a kiss on the lips. “How did you sleep?”

Ilya kissed back, then pressed his lips to Shane’s forehead. “Perfect.”

Shane tucked his face into Ilya’s neck and inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of his own shower gel on Ilya’s skin. He left a kiss there, then pulled away so he could pick up the bag of cream cheese frosting. This cake was taking longer to assemble than usual. Accepting that he was being a distraction, Ilya drifted around the room to look at the morning’s bakes.

“What is this?” Ilya asked, gesturing to the bag on the counter.

“Oh. I made you lunch.”

“Lunch?” Ilya sounded like he didn’t understand the concept, which Shane knew to be false. He’d bought lunch from him multiple times.

“Yeah? It’s okay if you don’t want it. Me and Jackie can eat it.”

“I want it.” Ilya said quickly, making Shane smile. He looked at the bag again. “I don’t think anybody has made me lunch since I was a child.”

“What? Like, at all?”

Ilya hummed. He walked back over to Shane and wrapped him up in a hug from behind, pressing his lips to the top of his hair. Shane put down his spatula to hold onto Ilya’s wrists, pulling his arms tight around him.

“I didn’t even put a drink in there.”

Ilya laughed, squeezing tighter still and rocking Shane back and forth gently. “I will buy from vending machine.”

Shane patted Ilya’s hands, then pushed them away so he could get back to the cake. “Can you leave the front door open when you go? I should open soon.”

Chapter End Notes

Please accept some fluff from me. There is absolutely nothing looming ahead and we are soooo safe here. We have hit the halfway point in my chapter outline!!

Chapter 9

Chapter Notes

Ilya
I am arranging team halloween party

Shane
At your house?

Ilya
Yes

Ilya
Not on real halloween

Ilya
I want team to spend real halloween with their babies

Ilya
I am thinking if party is monday you will come?

Shane turned his attention back to feeding his array of sourdough starters. He and Ilya had never discussed telling anyone about their relationship. Rose knew and Jackie was probably suspicious, but telling a team of hockey players seemed like a pretty big jump. He didn’t think that was what Ilya was asking to do.

Shane
Won’t it be weird if I’m there?

Ilya
No

Ilya
I allow many +1 at my party

Ilya
Nobody will notice boring baker falling asleep in corner

Shane covered the starters carefully, lining them back up on the counter to grow. The idea appealed to him. He did want to see more of Ilya’s life. It would be nice to meet his team, too. He knew their names from watching TV, but meeting them would make Shane feel less like a devoted Rozanov fan and more like an integrated part of his life.

Shane
I don’t have a costume.

Ilya
Sexy baker

Shane
I don’t know what that looks like.

Ilya
I do

Ilya
Sexy kitten

Ilya
Sexy vampire

Ilya
Sexy ghost

Shane rolled his eyes. He’d be better off brainstorming this with Rose.

Shane
What’s your costume?

Ilya
Secret 😉

***

Rose had been thrilled to put together a costume for him. He let her take an extra long lunch to hurry around the city gathering options and they spent an evening in his apartment trying everything on for size.

The winning idea ended up being a knight costume. Not a Sexy Knight, even if Rose had been encouraging him to strap the silver shoulder pieces over a ribbed vest. She’d found him a chain link tunic that draped nicely over his body and a metal neck piece that clipped to two shoulder guards and exaggerated the width of his him. The costume was quality enough that he was suspicious she had pilfered it from the theater's costume closet. Rose had brought him one of her own black leather belts to wear around his hips. He was worried it was a bit feminine, but she repeatedly assured him that he needed it for the silhouette. It was doing good things for the shape of his body. She approved some black trousers and leather shoes, before finally dismissing herself for the evening. Shane hid the pieces in a backpack and tucked it in his wardrobe, just in case Ilya went snooping around his bedroom between now and Halloween. If Ilya was keeping his costume a surprise, he wanted to do the same.

***

Shane’s uber dropped him off outside Ilya’s house at 9pm. He was grateful for the Monday party - he slept in late that morning and knew he could wait until lunch time before heading back to work the next day, if Ilya asked him to stay the night. The cars parked around the turning circle weren’t Ilya’s, indicating that most of his team were here already. Shane had wanted to arrive early to help set up, but decided it would draw too much attention if he were already there when guests arrived. He was also uncertain if he could make conversation for that long, anyway. He wouldn’t be able to stick to Ilya’s side the whole night and was anxious about how he’d make a good impression on his own. He wished Rose was here, although that would have exasperated the weird relationship dynamics at play tonight.

The front door was ajar and Shane let himself into Ilya’s home. Ilya’s chosen Halloween vibe was Tacky. There were goofy plastic bats hanging from anywhere a string could hook and large bowls of bones on various side tables. The kitchen island was taken up by a huge buffet of party food and the counters were filled with bottles of drink and disposable cups.

Shane hesitated in the doorway, looking around for Ilya. There was a large group of men gathered around the couch telling a loud and raucous story, but he wasn’t there. He also wasn’t by the kitchen. Shane was debating pulling out his phone when he spotted Marly at the buffet. He was piling a paper plate high with food and the way his slice of pizza bumped against a chocolate chip cookie was horrifying, but he was the best option Shane had right now. He steeled himself up, then walked over.

“Hey. You’re Marly, right?”

Marly looked up in surprise, then grinned widely at Shane. Shane could see how he and Ilya got along so well. He could imagine them in bars, large and vibrant together. “Oh, hey! You’re Rozy’s baker!”

Shane nodded his head. He didn’t know what felt sweeter - Marly immediately identifying him as Ilya’s, or the nickname ‘Rozy’. “Yeah, Shane.”

“Oh, dude, we love you. Rozy’s always bringing your cookies to practice. They’re so fucking good.”

He clapped a hand down on Shane’s shoulder. Shane tried not to startle at the sudden contact.

“I bet the ladies would love to meet you. Nielsen’s wife makes these fucking delicious cakes. We all go crazy for them. Can I introduce you? I don’t know where Rozy is. He’s probably smoking - you know how he is.”

Shane nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about immediately being carted over to the women, but that did seem less intimidating than trying to infiltrate a large group of hockey players.

“Right on.” Marly used his grip on Shane’s shoulder to give him a push towards the patio door.

Shane followed him down the steps to the fire pit. Ilya had set up colored floodlights to cast a spooky green glow and there was an inflatable ghost wobbling about ten feet away. Shane wondered if that was an appropriate distance for an inflatable to be next to a fire.

There was a group of women sitting in chairs on the patio. They had a stash of wine and a glass each. A blonde woman noticed Marly and shushed the rest, giving the distinct vibe that they’d been gossiping about their partners.

She smiled warmly at the two of them and called out “Here comes trouble.”

“I brought you a treat!” Marly grinned, putting his arm around Shane’s shoulders. “This is Shane. He owns that bakery Rozy loves. I already told him about your cakes, Nadia. Shane, this is Claire, Vickie, Asiya, Laura and Nadia.” He pointed at each woman as he introduced her. Shane was sure he would not remember their names.

He’d thought Marly would leave him there, but he flopped down into a deck chair and began to eat his slice of pizza. Shane sat down next to him cautiously.

“What bakery is it?” Vickie asked. She filled a glass of red wine and passed it over to Marly, then picked up another empty glass and gestured to Shane with it. “Red or white?”

“White.” Shane said quickly. “Uh, Dubois’? Do you know it?”

He accepted the wine when it made its way round the circle to him.

“Are you French?” Claire asked.

“No. Canadian. I speak French. The old owners of the store were French, though.”

"Moi aussi." Claire said, tipping her glass in Shane’s direction. Shane smiled at her.

“I know Dubois’!” Laura said. “I get your croissants with the kids after their swim lessons. Jackie is so nice - she makes them these little hot chocolates in the espresso cups. It’s so cute.”

Shane didn’t know Jackie was doing that, but if it was getting good feedback he couldn’t complain. He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

Marly was smiling as he ploughed through his plate of food, evidently pleased he’d successfully found Shane the right place at the party. “Rozy fucking loves it.” He said. “He’s doing extra cardio because of all the cake he’s eating.”

Shane grinned into his wine glass. He saw Vickie looking at him curiously, but it was Claire who spoke. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Oh. Uh, no.” Shane said. He took another sip of his wine. “You know, with all the hours I work. I don’t get out much.”

“I bet we could help.” Laura looked excited at the prospect. “I bet we know loads of women who’d be into a hot French baker.”

“Canadian.” Shane corrected. Marly laughed.

“Thank you, though. But no. I’m not really.. looking. At the moment. I’ll tell you if I am, though.”

Laura sighed. “That’s a shame.”

“You know who doesn’t need a sexy French baker?” Nadia said. She was pointing across the fire pit at nobody in particular. “Klara. Did anybody see her Instagram post yesterday?”

The conversation moved on to gossip Shane had no understanding of. Marly was locked in, turning his head from woman to woman as he ate his cookies.

Shane’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a notification from Ilya. When he opened the message, it was a picture of him taken through the patio door. There was a lot of glare from the light inside, but he could make out his own side profile. He turned to where the picture would have been taken from and saw Ilya leaning against the end of the kitchen island watching him.

Ilya’s white shirt was mostly open and potentially see through. It bunched up a little strangely around his armpits, due to the straps that were holding a pair of white feather wings in place. The wings were small and uncumbersome, but looked soft to the touch and framed his face. A metal halo circled the back of his head, poking through his curls. He wore white trousers, tight around the hips in a way that caught Shane’s attention immediately. Then he looked to the straps, pulling and exaggerating the muscles around Ilya’s chest. Then he went back to his face. He was breathtaking. It was wasted on this house full of jocks. Shane wanted to take him into the city and show everybody how gorgeous Ilya was. Shane realized he’d been staring at him and looked back down to his phone.

Shane
Did it hurt?

Ilya
What?

Shane
When you fell from heaven??

Ilya
Oh now you have game

Ilya
I think you have replaced me with bigger, smellier hockey player

Shane
Maybe I want to see if your underwear match.

Shane
He’s been really nice.

Ilya
Good

Ilya
It is rude not to say hello to host

Shane rolled his eyes performatively. He put away his phone and got to his feet. “I’m just going to go say hi to Ily-Rozanov.”

He returned back up the steps and into the kitchen.

“You are already establishing yourself as head WAG?” Ilya asked. He stayed against the counter, watching Shane greedily as he approached. Shane stopped a respectable distance away.

“I think they would eat me alive.”

“Mm, no. You would establish dominance with color coded calendar and rigorous spreadsheet for wine evenings.”

Ilya reached behind himself and picked up a handful of tiny cubes of cheddar. He ate them one by one.

“I would like seeing you with WAG jacket.” Ilya said. “You would look good with my name on your back.”

Shane could feel his cheeks prickling pink. He glanced around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear, but most people were gathered around the TV. There was a hockey game on, of course, but everybody was talking more than they were watching. The music was loud enough that it was hard to make out their loud words, never mind Ilya’s quiet murmur.

“Perhaps I should buy a jersey.”

Ilya’s eyes flashed. “No, do not buy. I will give you real thing. Signed.”

Shane laughed. “I could sell that on eBay. Maybe get a new stand mixer for the store.”

Ilya groaned, rolling his eyes and letting the moment break. “Would you like to meet more hockey players?” He asked.

“Sure.”

Ilya tilted his head towards the TV and headed that way. Shane followed, trying to be as discreet as he could about the way he was ogling Ilya’s ass in those trousers. Ilya led him over to three guys on the outskirts of the group who were standing in a circle drinking beer.

“I am here now.” Ilya interrupted whatever conversation they were having. “This is Shane. He is much more talented than the three of you. Shane, this is Lipovsky, Nielsen and Weber.”

Shane smiled politely, then gestured to Nielsen. “Hey, I just met your wife.”

“Did she tell you about the garage thing?” Nielsen asked. He glanced at Ilya and the other guys, who all looked like they’d already heard about this multiple times. “I’m so sorry about that. She’s so mad, she’s been telling everybody for days. I left the back door open and all these raccoons got in. We keep trying to move them out but they’re fucking sneaky, man.”

Shane laughed. “No, she didn’t tell me about that. Maybe you’re off the hook. Can’t you just lure them out with food?”

“You would think so, but they take turns going out! It’s like they’re all in on it together. We can’t close the door on them and more keep going in.”

“You are letting little raccoons terrorize you?” Ilya asked, prompting another tirade from Nielsen about the raccoons. Shane took a long sip of his wine and watched the back and forth, enjoying the way Ilya continued to wind Nielsen up until he groaned and stomped outside, presumably to see his wife. Shane stuck by Ilya for as long as he thought made sense, then followed Lipovsky over to a different conversation about some hockey game they’d played a few months ago. Everybody was pleased to have a newcomer to explain the point of tension to and Shane nodded along encouragingly, offering up a diplomatic and non-committal response when they wanted his actual opinion.

When he realized he hadn’t said anything in a while, Shane excused himself from the conversation and went upstairs to use the bathroom. He could have used the downstairs one, but it skeeved him out a bit to think of all these people using the same toilet. He figured Ilya wouldn’t mind him using one of the en-suites instead.

Shane let himself into the first en-suite he could find and looked around curiously. There were bottles of expensive toiletries lined up on the counter and plush towels hung over the radiator. If it were a hotel, it would be way out of Shane’s budget.

He was startled by the bedroom door opening and closing again. Maybe somebody was already staying here? Shane poked his head around the door to apologize for the intrusion and saw Ilya waiting for him.

“Hiding?”

“No. I need to piss.”

“Go on then.” Ilya had pushed his way into the bathroom and closed the door. It wasn’t a big room - they were toe to toe.

“It’s not really a two man job.”

“No?”

“No.”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “Piss, Shane.”

Shane mashed his lips together tightly. Maybe it was the wine, but he decided it wasn’t worth trying to shove Ilya out of the room. He turned his back on him and focused on peeing, weirdly conscious of how loud it was. He was grateful that his tunic covered his ass. He tucked himself back in his slacks and washed his hands diligently.

When he turned back around, Ilya was grinning. “Good boy.”

“Is that all you wanted?” Shane asked.

“Mm, no.” Ilya said. He reached out to grab Shane by the waist and pull him closer. Shane let it happen. He kept up his grumpy act and didn’t put his hands on Ilya.

“You look very handsome.” One of Ilya’s hands wandered down to his ass.

“You think?”

“Yes. My handsome knight. You are here to protect me, yes?”

Shane finally let his hands come up to Ilya’s biceps. He gave them a squeeze. “I don’t think you need any protection.”

“No, I do.” Ilya said. His lips came down onto Shane’s neck and Shane tilted his head to give more space. He closed his eyes as Ilya dragged his teeth against the skin there. “I am lucky I have such a beautiful boy to keep me safe. You will slay dragon for me?”

Shane would, if that is what Ilya wanted. “Yeah.” He breathed out. Ilya made a pleased sound. He sucked at Shane’s neck, then made his way up to the lobe of his ear. The hand on his ass pulled him close, so Ilya’s thigh could press between Shane’s. He could feel Ilya’s dick hard up against him.

“So lucky.” Ilya said. “How can I thank you for your bravery?”

Shane groaned. He planted a hand on the door behind Ilya and used it for leverage to grind against his thigh. Ilya’s hand on his ass encouraged the motion roughly.

“You like that?”

Shane didn’t bother replying, just let himself ride Ilya’s thigh until he was clinging to his shoulders and whimpering into his neck. Ilya whispered praise - sometimes in Russian and sometimes English. Shane didn’t take in a word of it, but he could feel the intended sentiment wrapping warmly around him. He pressed his bared teeth against Ilya’s jugular as he came and stayed pressed close after. He suddenly became conscious of how tightly he’d squeezed his eyes closed and slowly opened them, blinking rapidly against the dim bathroom light. Ilya held him close, patient even as he rocked his hips against Shane’s thigh.

Shane pulled back to get a good look at him. Ilya looked disheveled and used. His neck was wet with spit and his eyes were half lidded and unfocused. Shane had done that to him.

“You’re so fucking hot, Shane.” Ilya told him. He was looking right back at Shane, eyes flitting from his face to his body. Ilya unfastened his trousers and pulled out his own dick. He jerked it immediately, fast, barely putting on a show. Shane knew he should help, but he was frozen watching him. Ilya reached out with his other hand and palmed Shane’s chest. He probably wasn’t getting a good handful, through the chainmail and his undershirt. Ilya groaned and picked up the speed, then he was shooting cum on the tile between them. He leaned back against the door and gave Shane a blissed out grin.

“I should get back to party.”

Shane gaped at him. He wasn’t sure he was ready for words yet, after what he’d just seen. Ilya moved past him to wash his hands, then tucked his dick back into his trousers and fastened them. Shane stared at their reflection in the mirror. They looked like they matched. They looked good together. Gorgeous, even.

Ilya saw him looking and met his eye in the glass. He looked like he might be thinking the same thing.

“You are tired, yes? Perhaps you would like to stay in this room tonight? Nobody will notice. I will say WAGS gave too much wine and you are too sleepy to go home.”

Shane nodded his head. He supposed he didn’t want to go back down to the party with cum drying in his pants anyway. “Yes. Thank you.”

Shane saw Ilya’s reflection smile. He turned around and kissed Shane. “I will see you later.”

*

Shane took one of the fastest showers of his life. He didn’t want anybody to hear the water running and clock it as strange, but he wanted to feel fresh and clean between the bed sheets. He toweled off, then realized he had nothing to change into. He briefly considered fetching some sleep clothes from Ilya’s room, but decided against it since he’d never actually been invited into Ilya’s bedroom before and didn’t want to get caught rummaging through his belongings.

He hung the towel back up in the bathroom and climbed into bed naked. It felt blissful. Ilya’s sheets were expensive and the blankets plush. Never mind his knight costume, he felt like a spoiled little prince tucked up in bed. He couldn’t wait to feel Ilya pressed up against him like another luxury he could indulge in. Shane closed his eyes and listened to the bass thumping downstairs. He thought he could pick Ilya’s loud voice out of the racket every now and then, shouting and laughing uninhibitedly. He thought of him playing the host and let himself drift off to sleep.

*

Shane woke to a loud thunk and quiet Russian cursing. He opened one eye and squinted through the darkness. He could see Ilya shuffling around the bed in the dark, shedding his clothes.

“What time is it?” Shane asked. He reached out to Ilya and made contact with his bare hip. He let his hand rest there like a dead weight while Ilya pulled off his shirt.

“Two.” Ilya said. “Everybody has gone home now. Marly is at club with rooks. We will wake up to them making fun of his dancing in group chat.”

“Mm..” Shane sighed. He stretched out in the bed. It really did feel good. Cool, fresh sheets rustled against his skin and the cushion gave way comfortably when he rolled his head to the side. Ilya was watching him intensely. “I’d be waking up soon, usually.”

Shane did feel pretty awake. He knew he was nowhere near having enough sleep, but his internal body clock was well trained.

Ilya crawled beneath the blanket and over Shane’s body. He caged him in as he lent down for a kiss. “You are crazy.”

“You are crazy.” Shane repeated. He got his hands on Ilya’s ass and squeezed, just for the joy of it. “Did you have fun?”

“Mm, yes.” He moved down and sucked at Shane’s nipple. Shane arched his back into the motion. “Did you?”

“Yeah. Everybody was very nice.”

“They would not misbehave at Captain’s party.” Ilya kissed down Shane’s chest. The blankets moved with him as he shuffled backwards, leaving Shane cold. Ilya’s hands spread over his body instead, hot and heavy. He pressed his face into the trimmed hair above Shane’s dick and inhaled.

“You smell nice.”

“I took a shower.”

“Ah.” Ilya tongued around the base of Shane’s dick, slow and indulgent. He glanced up at him. “Are you sleepy?”

“No.”

Ilya continued his path down. He spent some time laving Shane’s balls with his mouth, until Shane’s breath had picked up pace and he was rocking his hips into the open air above him. “Ilya..”

“Mm, be patient.” Ilya scolded. He used the motion of Shane’s hips to tuck his hands under his thighs, lifting and spreading. Shane’s breath caught in his throat.

Ilya moved further down and gave a long, slow lick across Shane’s asshole. Shane’s breath came out with a slow keening noise. Encouraged, Ilya pressed his lips against him in a filthy kiss. Shane could feel his tongue circling his rim.

“Fuck.”

“Good?” Ilya asked.

Shane grunted. He rocked his hips down against Ilya’s mouth, trying to push his tongue closer. Ilya obliged, working it inside of Shane’s hole.

“Ilya.” He said again. “Fuck. I want you to fuck me.”

Ilya pulled back. He had his own saliva on his chin. “Now?”

“Fuck, yeah. Can you?”

Ilya laughed at the question. He reached out with his pointer finger and rubbed it against Shane’s hole, feeling the give. “I would not say no to you.”

He reached over Shane without any elegance and rummaged through the bedside cabinet. Shane got a face full of his stomach in the process - his eyes unfocused as he tried to look at the moles looming close to his face.

When he knelt back down where he’d been, he was coating his fingers with lube. Shane pulled his legs back again, exposing himself. Ilya lent close to tongue his hole one more time, then gently pushed a finger inside of Shane, moving it in minute circles. Shane made a quiet noise in the back of his throat as he focused on relaxing.

“You have not done this before?”

“No.” Shane said. His hips hitched when Ilya’s finger made it down to the knuckle. He could feel another lubed finger moving against him. “I uh. I have practiced, though.”

Ilya grinned. Shane could feel his teeth against his thigh. He was so close, watching his fingers in Shane’s ass.

“You practice this? You have workbook to track progress?”

“No. Fuck you. I just.. Wanted to see if I liked it.”

Ilya’s grin stayed wide. He pushed his second finger into Shane, scissoring him from the inside. He thrust them a couple of times and Shane whined.

“And do you?” Ilya asked, as if Shane’s dick wasn’t inches from his face.

“Shut the fuck up.” Shane said. “I asked you to fuck me.”

Ilya groaned. He worked Shane until he could add a third finger, then used his thumb to stretch his rim wider still. Shane was whining, rocking down on his hand.

“Ilya.” He said firmly, slapping at his shoulder. Come on.”

Ilya pulled his hand back and Shane felt empty and open. The lube made the air feel even colder. He watched as Ilya rolled the condom down over his dick, then crawled back over Shane’s body. He leant in for a kiss, quick at first, then deeper. Shane whined around his tongue and grabbed his lower back, pulling him closer as if he could get Ilya inside him that way.

Ilya laughed and rubbed the head of his dick against Shane. He pushed down against it, feeling the stretch.

“Good?” Ilya asked again. Shane nodded. Slowly, Ilya pushed inside. Shane groaned loudly, losing contact with Ilya’s mouth as he tipped his head back in the pillows. His own hand couldn’t have prepared him for this. He felt full and so so wanted. His nerves were on fire.

“Fuck, Shane.” Ilya muttered. He pressed his lips against his neck, then leaned up to catch his mouth again. Shane could feel him trembling as he stayed still. He moved his own hips gently, experimenting with how it moved Ilya inside of him. Ilya groaned. “Shane. You’ll kill me”

Shane clutched Ilya’s back where he was still holding it. “Move, then.” He begged. Ilya grunted and took the instruction, dragging back and forth in a slow motion. He looked at Shane’s face as if to check it was okay. Shane dug his nails in. “Move.”

Ilya picked up the pace, letting his own pleasure drive him now. He was loud and expressive, letting Shane know how good he was, how beautiful he looked. Shane closed his eyes and let it wash over him again. He couldn’t believe he’d been worried he wouldn’t like this. He felt needed and satiated and more in tune with his body than he’d ever been before. He could feel Ilya growing tenser above him, his thrusts shorter and tighter. He got his hand on his own dick and stroked furiously, determined to meet Ilya where he was at.

“Come on.” He goaded, looking up at Ilya’s face. Ilya’s eyes had been on his dick, but they flashed back up to meet his stare with intensity. He saw when Ilya’s orgasm took over him - felt his hips stutter and his dick pulse deep inside. He stroked himself harder and followed Ilya over the edge.

*

When Shane woke again, Ilya was plastered along his side. His face was pressed into Shane’s neck and his snores rumbled against him. He was making contact from head to toe, arm sprawled over Shane’s abdomen in a way that was pushing on his bladder. Shane lay still and enjoyed the contact. He imagined waking up like this every day. He didn’t think he wanted a life where he woke up alone, now he knew what this was like.

Eventually, the pressure on his bladder grew a bit too heavy and he extracted himself from the bed slowly, careful not to wake Ilya. He pissed, then grabbed his towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around his waist. Hopefully Ilya would offer him some clothes later. He might not, knowing him.

Shane padded downstairs and surveyed the mess in Ilya’s home. It didn’t look like Ilya had done anything to tidy up before he’d gone to bed. Unable to relax with such a mess, Shane began sorting through the cups scattered around the house, tipping out the drink and collecting a stack of washing up.

He moved onto the buffet next, wrapping the waste food up in its containers and dumping it out in the bin. This was when Ilya appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He was in sweatpants and a pair of slides, and looked at Shane in surprise when he saw what he was doing.

“You don’t have to do that.” He said quickly, heading in his direction and taking the pizza box away from him.

“It’s no problem.” Shane said. “I couldn’t sit down with all that still out.”

Ilya came close and nuzzled into his shoulder. “I am sorry.” He said. “I have team of spoilt little rich boys. They are very messy.”

Shane smiled and turned in Ilya’s arms. “You are a spoilt little rich boy.”

Ilya sighed. “You are right.” He dragged Shane with him as he moved to the coffee pot and switched it on. “It will be hard work for you to keep me humble.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever been humble.”

Ilya glanced at Shane with mirth, but didn’t reply. He quietly filled two cups of coffee and broke away to tip sugar and milk into his own. Shane left his on the counter to cool.

“Anyway, you do not need to clean. I have housekeeper who comes while I am at practice.”

“You have practice today? When?”

“After lunch. I will take you home then.” Ilya tugged gently at Shane’s towel. “Perhaps we hide from mess upstairs?”

Chapter End Notes

what was i going to do?? have a fic set in autumn and NOT have a halloween chapter??? happy fake halloween to you all!!

Chapter 10

Rose followed Shane up the stairs to his apartment after the bakery was closed. It wasn’t uncommon for her to hang around into the evening, but today she was giving off a nervous energy that had Shane unable to settle. He didn’t point it out. He hoped whatever the weirdness was would pass by without mention. Instead, he cooked some extra chicken and rice and let her hang out on the couch while he did his chores.

“Have you heard from Ilya lately?” Rose asked.

“Not much.” Shane said, dusting around the TV. “He has a friend in town this week, so he’s been kind of busy. They were at a gala last night. He sent a few drunk texts.”

“Who is his friend? Have you met them?” Rose’s tone was getting a little more pointed. Shane felt like they were getting closer to the root of her nervousness.

“No.”

“Can I show you something?” Rose was pulling out her phone. Shane glanced over at her. “It’s probably nothing but like.. Can you look?”

Shane frowned. He finished dusting, then walked to the back of the couch to look over Rose’s shoulder at her phone. Rose glanced up at him anxiously, then opened her camera roll and found a recent screenshot taken from a gossip website.

Rozanov seen cozying up to socialite ex!

The photo was of Ilya looking handsome and rumpled in a suit. He was holding a woman’s hand and pulling her close into his side. She looked beautiful - dressed expensive and chic with long legs on display and diamonds glittering around her neck.

Shane pursed his lips. “Why are you reading this shit?”

“I saw it on Instagram.” Rose said. She turned around entirely on the couch, with her knees pressed up against the back cushions. “Do you know her?”

“I said I didn’t.” Shane said. “They’re probably just friends. I hold your hand all the time.”

Rose looked like she was trying to figure out what to say. Shane was jolted back to her telling him that they’d had a lavender relationship.

“I went on Reddit to see if anybody knew who she was.” Rose pivoted, moving on to more screenshots in her phone. “They say she’s this rich Russian girl who moved out here with Ilya. There’s loads of paparazzi photos of them together.”

She had more photos of Ilya and this woman. The photos were older, if Ilya’s hair was anything to go off. They were kissing in clubs and on the street. Ilya was holding her hand as he helped her into a car.

“Right.” Shane said.

“You’ll ask him about it, right?” Rose asked. “I know you don’t like to bring things up, but this is weird, Shane. He hangs around here like he’s obsessed with you. Why weren’t you his date to the gala?”

“Because she was in town and she would enjoy the gala more than me.” Shane said flatly.

It had made sense when Ilya told him about it. It still made sense to him now. Shane wouldn’t have enjoyed a gala. He certainly wouldn’t have enjoyed having his picture taken by paparazzi. He just hadn’t realized Ilya’s friend was his ex-girlfriend. It was probably hypocritical to be bothered by it, given he was sitting right here with Rose.

“Did he tell you she was his ex?”

“No.” Shane said. “It’s not like we’re anything official. Maybe he thinks we’re just having fun.”

“Are you just having fun with him?”

“Sure.”

“Can I stay the night?” Rose asked. “I’ll help you open in the morning.”

Shane knew what she was doing. She wanted to make sure he didn’t throw himself off his routine by worrying about what he’d say to Ilya. He didn’t think that would happen. He felt strangely calm about it. He had no real claim over Ilya. He also liked to believe that Ilya wouldn’t purposefully hurt him.

“Yeah, thank you.” He said anyway. He appreciated the kindness behind Rose asking, even if he would rather be alone. He busied himself by finding Rose a pair of pajamas to wear. She already had her own toothbrush in the cupboard under the sink, propped up in a cup next to his own and one he kept around for Ilya.

*

Shane couldn’t sleep. He could hear Rose’s steady breaths in the bed next to him and tried to fall into rhythm with her, lulling himself into calmness. It wasn’t working.

He wasn’t worrying about Ilya spending the week with his ex. He really wasn’t. He couldn’t stop thinking about Rose asking why he wasn't Ilya’s date. He thought about how good Ilya had looked in his photo, how chivalrous he was holding her out of the photographer's reach.

He wondered what the pictures would have looked like if he were there instead.

He reached out into the dark and nudged Rose. She woke up with a confused sound.

“Do you think he would have taken me as his date if I was a woman? Even if I would have hated it?”

Rose was quiet. She was probably still waking up. “Have you ever like.. talked to him about coming out?”

“No.” Shane said. “We haven’t talked about what we’re doing. Asking about that feels.. I don’t want him to think I want him to do anything.”

“You don’t want him to come out?”

Shane sighed. “I meant that he can do what he wants. If I’m not his boyfriend, then it’s nothing to do with me.”

Rose sighed back at him. He could hear her burrowing back down into the pillow. “I think you guys need to talk about what’s going on between you.”

***

It was a couple of days before Ilya came back to the bakery. He showed up late in the afternoon in a suit, as if he were there after some kind of public appearance. Shane wasn’t sure what it had been. He’d seen Ilya come in and watched from the kitchen as he made his usual small talk with Rose. It looked like she had been quite terse with him and Ilya looked confused as he came into the kitchen.

He approached Shane as he always did, coming up from behind and wrapping his arms around his waist while Shane continued whatever task he was working on. Today he was tying cinnamon buns into neat knots.

“I missed you.” Ilya said, nuzzling into Shane’s neck.

It tugged on Shane’s nerves. Had he actually missed him? A jealous little creature inside of him said that he probably hadn’t, if he’d been out holding hands with his ex all week.

“Did you?” Shane asked. His tone was quite flat. Ilya made a confused noise.

“Yes. Why are you and Rose both angry? Are you fighting?”

“No.” Shane put down his dough and squeezed Ilya’s hands. He was smearing butter and cinnamon on them, but he wanted the contact. He turned around in Ilya’s arms and looked up at him. “I’m not angry. I missed you. Do you think you could.. Go wait for me upstairs, maybe? I’ll be a couple of hours. I’m just busy and I don’t think I can have you down here.”

Ilya still looked confused, but he nodded. “Of course.”

He squeezed Shane’s waist and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then started towards the door. He hesitated there. “Is something wrong?”

“No. It’s fine. We’re fine. I just.. We should talk, right? I want us to talk.”

“Okay.” Ilya said. He looked at Shane curiously, then let himself out the kitchen and up to Shane’s apartment.

*

Shane hurried through the rest of his tasks. When he opened the door to his apartment, his attention immediately went to Ilya on the couch, like he had a gravitational pull. He’d taken off his jacket and tie and unbuttoned his shirt to partway down his chest. He didn’t look relaxed. It looked like he’d been sitting in silence while he waited for Shane. His hair was ruffled like he’d run his hands though it several times. When Shane walked in, he just eyed him carefully.

“Hey.” Shane said.

“Hello.” Ilya said slowly. “What did you want to say to me?”

Shane hesitated, then walked over to the couch. He sat at the opposite end to Ilya and thought about what he wanted to say. What would Rose say?

“You didn’t tell me it was your ex staying with you.”

“What?”

“Your friend who was visiting. She is your ex-girlfriend, right?”

Ilya looked confused. For a moment, Shane wondered if he’d managed to make it all up. He found his phone and pulled up the screenshots Rose had sent him, starting with the magazine headline. “Who is this?”

Ilya looked at it with his brows furrowed. Shane saw him read the headlines, then take in the picture. “That is Svetlana.” He said, voice neutral.

“Svetlana.” Shane repeated. “Right. Who is Svetlana?”

Ilya exhaled heavily through his nose and lent back on the couch, away from Shane. Shane was terrified he was about to say she was his girlfriend.

“My friend. From Russia.”

“Your friend from Russia.” Shane repeated. He thought he’d lost the ability to come up with words on his own.

“Yes. She has business here selling cars. She has never been my girlfriend.”

Shane pursed his lips. He pulled up one of the pictures of them kissing and turned his phone back to Ilya. “The press thought she was your girlfriend.”

He felt dramatic, confronting Ilya like this. Like something from a shitty reality show. He was crossing a line, he thought. This really wasn’t his place in Ilya’s life.

Ilya flinched, then shrugged. “We.. went out, sometimes. Is nice to be with somebody who reminds you of home, yes? That photo is very old. We have not been together like that since I met you.”

“But you do still go out with her and hold her hand?”

“I was being a gentleman.” Ilya said. “Sveta.. she wears these very high heels. And with paparazzi so close? I want to keep her safe.”

Shane stared at him levelly, taking it in.

“Besides,” Ilya continued. “I thought perhaps is not bad idea press think I am with Svetlana. They would not suspect I am seeing a man.”

Shane felt that sink in his heart like a knife.

“You would rather people think you were with Svetlana than me?”

“Shane, I am Russian. I am here on work visa. To play hockey.”

Shane regret never asking Ilya about their relationship, or his public status. It felt horrible to dig for information now, when his heart was pounding and hurt.

“You don’t want to come out?”

“Do you?”

“I’m not the one in magazines holding hands with hot Russian women.”

Ilya made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “It is not about what I want. I am scared that they will find me out, Shane. Is that what you want to hear? I am scared. What if they pull visa? What if I get sent back to Russia? What if I get to stay, but my team get rid of me for it?”

Shane’s own worries about being perceived differently felt tiny and stupid, now. He had assumed Ilya was dealing with something similar. He felt immature for not considering what their relationship could do to him. “Then why would you pursue me? If you’re scared?”

Ilya scrubbed his face with his palm. Shane could see him digging his nails into his forehead so hard they left little pink scratches. “It felt like you would be worth the risk.”

Shane crossed his arms over his chest and focused on taking a few deep breaths.

“I was thinking about telling my parents that I was gay. About you. I was hoping you would want to meet them next time they visit.”

“I would have liked that.”

Shane didn’t miss the past tense in Ilya’s reply.

“It’s embarrassing enough that Rose showed me the article. Can you imagine if it was my mom? Can you imagine trying to explain to my mom that you let everybody think you are with Svetlana?”

“I am sorry I embarrass you.”

“Don’t fucking twist my words like that.”

“No, Shane. I mean it.” Ilya’s teeth were gritted. “I want you to be proud of me.”

Shane was taken aback by the vulnerability. “For fucks sake.”

Shane stood up and went to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and watched Ilya where he sat. Ilya’s jaw was tense and his body was rigid, like he was completely locked into place. Shane gulped the water, feeling it spill around his mouth with his clumsiness. He spoke again.

“What was your plan, then?”

“What?”

“What did you think would happen, when you asked me out to dinner?”

“No plan. I just wanted to be with you.”

Shane thought of his life before Ilya. In hindsight, he could see that there had been a large, empty space made just for him. Ilya had fit in and made everything seem brighter and exciting. He hadn’t noticed the empty space back then, though. He had felt fine. He thought of how it would feel if he let Ilya carve out even more space for himself. How it would feel to have him wrenched out of it. How it would feel to nurse the wound knowing that being with him had ruined Ilya's life.

“I don’t think we should do this if it’s such a risk for you.”

“Shane..”

“I don’t want to be a risk, Ilya. I don’t mind that we.. I think I liked that we weren’t defining anything, but I can’t keep doing this if I have to worry that loving you could fuck up your life so bad.”

“Loving me?” Ilya repeated.

Shane’s blood went cold. He hadn’t meant that he was in love. He’d meant that he loved Ilya. He loved spending time with him, he loved looking forward to seeing him again. He loved him.

“Don’t.” Shane said sharply. Ilya pursed his lips.

“I only just accepted that I like men.” Shane continued. “I’m still letting go of this version of myself in my mind that has a wife and kids and a house in the suburbs. I spent the past few days wishing I was a woman, just so it could be me with you in those paparazzi pictures. That’s so fucked up, Ilya. I don’t want to.. figure this out while you’re out there doing.. all that.”

Ilya had closed off his face entirely. “Okay.”

“What do you mean, ‘Okay’?”

“Okay.” Ilya said again. He was standing up and putting his jacket back on. He stood facing Shane with a whole room of distance between the two of them. Shane desperately wanted to close the gap, but he didn’t. “I am sorry. It is fucked up. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

Shane watched Ilya, dumbfounded. Was this it? He was just going to leave?

“I really like you.” Shane said, dumbly.

“Yes.” Ilya said. Shane could see him swallow thickly. “I like you, too. I am sorry.”

“Maybe if you.. If things change. You’ll come find me?” Shane asked. He felt pathetic.

Ilya shook his head. “They will not.”

“If they do.” Shane repeated. Ilya nodded now, placating him. The both of them stood in silence, taking in the sight of the other. Ilya turned and left the apartment.

Shane stood at the kitchen counter for a long time, shocked by the turn his evening had taken. He’d expected Ilya to push back. Maybe get mad. He thought he would apologize for the paparazzi pictures and they could define what they were. He filled the cup and drank again, then sank to the kitchen floor and let himself cry.

Chapter 11

Shane's next few weeks were spent oscillating between misery and regret. Sometimes he would settle on a mixture of the two. He still didn’t want to be a risk Ilya was taking, but he grew angrier with that the more time he spent away from him.

He fantasized about elaborate ways to keep their relationship secret. He imagined Ilya coming out. He imagined proposing to Ilya and moving the both of them to Canada. He’d go to any city Ilya wanted. He’d open a new bakery. They’d buy a house together.

He cried a lot.

His parents visit to Boston snuck up on him - he’d usually spend a week before their arrival preparing to host them. He liked to take them to new restaurants and wine bars - they would make notes on what they liked and didn’t like about each one and debrief at the end of the week. He loved hearing his parents bitchy comments about any place that dared take itself too seriously. One time he’d taken his mom to a restaurant where the dessert was served with a scented cloud of smoke and she’d accidentally laughed in the waiter's face.

He hadn’t done any research this month. He apologized multiple times about his lack of plans and his parents insisted they didn’t mind. They really seemed like they weren’t bothered, too. His dad helped out in the bakery each day, following Shane’s instructions with the ease of a man who greatly enjoyed getting things just right.

His dad had always been good at baking. He’d helped Shane a lot when he was younger and had a habit of taking on projects that were too complex for his age. His dad had resolved many croissant-centric meltdowns in his lifetime. Shane was sure David had noticed how melancholy he was, but he hadn’t brought it up. He just kept his head down and helped Shane get ahead of his work.

His mom spent her days sifting through Shane’s paperwork, easing her perpetual worry that he might slip up with his accounting or permits. She was writing a to-do list of things Shane should look into. There were notes encouraging him to buy flour in larger bulk orders, apply for tax relief opportunities and get involved in programs for hiring apprentices. When she grew tired of admin, she would go out into the city and return with ample shopping bags. They were usually for herself, although she did bring several shirts back for Shane and his father. Shane appreciated it - he hated shopping for himself and his mom had a knack for finding him the softest cotton. He slipped some cash into her purse when she wasn’t looking.

It had been David who suggested they pay a visit to Hayden’s restaurant. Shane had been roommates with Hayden for a couple of years and his parents had grown fond of him. Hayden had married young, had never really been into parties and was always very polite. Shane’s friendship with him had always come easily and his parents must have been pleased he found such a steady friendship so soon after moving to Boston.

This is how Shane found himself in the same booth he’d sat with Ilya, chewing his bites of salmon slowly and zoning in and out of the conversation. His parents were glancing at him with concern.

“Honey.” Yuna said, putting down her cutlery and ducking her head to get into Shane’s eye line. “Are you okay? You’ve been very distant this week.”

“I’m sorry.” Shane said quickly. “I’m fine, I’ve just got a lot on my mind. I’m sorry if it put a dark cloud over your trip.”

“It hasn’t. We always want to see you, even if you’re having a bad time.”

“Especially if you’re having a bad time.” David amended. Yuna nodded in agreement.

“You know you can talk to us, right son?” David continued. He was still eating, but looked at Shane earnestly. “If you’re in trouble, or stuck with some kind of problem.”

“I’m not in trouble.” Shane said. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Okay.” Yuna said. She picked up her wine and took a slow sip.

Shane let them sit in silence for a moment. He didn’t want them to go back to Ottawa thinking he was keeping some kind of major problem a secret. He glanced around nervously, making sure the people at the table nearby were too interested in their own meal to be eavesdropping.

“I’m gay.” He said bluntly, staring down at his empty plate.

“Oh..” Yuna said. She sounded surprised. It wasn’t often that Shane caught his mom speechless and he could already feel the cogs turning in her mind. No doubt she was shuffling through a dozen questions, deciding which was the most appropriate to ask first.

“Thank you for telling us.” David said, when Yuna didn’t immediately follow up with a question. “I bet that was hard for you, eh?”

Shane nodded his head. “Yeah. Yes. I wasn’t hiding it from you. It’s only been a few months since I.. figured it out. I wanted to be sure before I said anything.”

David nodded. He reached out across the table and patted Shane’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you. We always are - nothing will change that.”

Shane bit his lip and nodded again. He chanced a look up into his fathers eyes and got caught by the affection there. He put his own hand on top of his dad's and squeezed. He wondered if Ilya had ever thought about coming out to his family. Based on what he knew, it didn’t seem like he would receive a fraction of the acceptance Shane was experiencing right now. He wished Ilya were here with him to share his fathers love. He felt his eyes spring with tears and blinked rapidly, wishing them away.

“Thank you.” Shane choked out. “I.. I really appreciate it. I know I’m lucky to have you both.”

“Oh, Shane.” Yuna looked like she wanted to wrap him up in a hug, but Shane knew she wouldn’t make that kind of scene in a restaurant. She reached out and patted his cheek instead. “We’re lucky to have you.”

Shane tilted his cheek into his mothers palm, then gently shifted out of both of their touch.

“Thank you.” He said again. He wasn’t sure he could pack everything he felt into those words.

Yuna fiddled with her napkin, folding it into a neat triangle. “Have you been worrying about telling us all week?”

“No.” Shane said, watching the napkin as it got pressed into shape. “I knew you would be okay with it. I wasn’t worried about you.”

David made a noise as if he might cry. Shane glanced up at him in concern and he just waved him away, dabbing at his eyes with his napkin and clearing his throat.

“That's just really nice to hear.” He explained. He cleared his throat again. “Have you been seeing anybody? A boyfriend, maybe?”

Shane pulsed his lip between his teeth, zeroing in on the rhythm as he considered his answer. He wasn’t seeing anybody anymore, yet he still wanted to tell them everything about Ilya. He wanted a record of how sweet that time of his life had felt.

“No, but I was.” He glanced between his parents nervously. He didn’t miss the way his own voice cracked. “He was.. really good to me. I really liked him. We had to stop seeing each other because of.. logistics, I guess.”

“Logistics?” Yuna repeated. Of course that’s what she took the most interest in.

“He’s kind of.. famous?” Shane clarified. He could see both his parents try to hide how that peaked their curiosity. He’d bitten his lip so much that it felt swollen in his mouth. He worried it with his tongue. “He’s an athlete. He’s not sure if his team would respond well if they found out. And he’s in the US on a work visa, so that could be at risk too.”

“So he ended it?” David asked. He sounded equal parts pitying and angry.

Shane cleared his throat. “No, uh. I did. I didn’t like that I could be jeopardizing his career.”

David’s anger moved into confusion. “Don’t you think that’s for him to worry about?”

“I think I should get to worry about it too, if I care about him.” Shane replied tersely.

Yuna interrupted their back and forth. “If he’s an athlete, why didn’t his management move him onto an Extraordinary Ability visa? He could apply for a green card with that.”

Shane looked to his mother, startled. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask for the details. I assumed he was on top of his visa situation.”

“It doesn’t sound like he is.” Yuna said. There was judgement in her tone. It would be hypocritical of Shane to agree, considering she handled all of his immigration documents.

“I think he was just happy to be out of Russia. I don’t think he’s much of a long term planner. He was probably trying not to look the gift horse in the mouth.”

Yuna raised an eyebrow. Shane wasn’t giving her the best impression of Ilya. Plus, he’d probably just accidentally given away enough detail for her to make a very short list of suspects.

“I think you both would have really liked him.” He said, trying to patch up the damage he’d done. “He was really… inviting. Like, you could just tell how much love he had to give, even when he was playing it cool. He’s really funny. And he does puzzles.” He nodded towards his dad and David smiled encouragingly. His dad was an avid puzzler.

“Well.” Yuna said evenly. “Maybe you should reach out and ask if he’s thought about applying for a different visa. He might get into trouble, even without you around. If he’s so nice, he deserves to have somebody help.”

Shane considered it. It would be embarrassing to try and make contact with Ilya again, but it was also kind of exciting to have an excuse.

“Maybe.” He said.

“I can do some research for you.” Yuna encouraged. Maybe he couldn’t share his dad’s kindness with Ilya, but his mom’s could somehow transcend any situation.

“That would be nice of you.” Shane said. “Really, mom. Thank you.”

“No problem, sweetie. I’m sorry it didn’t work out with him.”

“Yeah.” Shane said quietly. He caught their waiter's eye and flagged him down to bring the cheque.

***

His parents stayed a couple more days. They didn’t mention his coming out again, although he did feel like they were looking at him more gently than they usually would.

Yuna had spent a full day in the shop office researching immigration law. She’d left a heavy stack of paper on his desk, neatly annotated and highlighted. When Shane flipped through it, he saw that she’d also printed several documents in Russian. Those were highlighted too, with notes that cross referenced the English. She must have run them through an online translator. Shane hoped Ilya wouldn’t take offense over his family assuming he hadn’t fully researched his own immigration options. His mom really was good at handling bureaucracy and even if they weren’t together, he wanted to share any resource he had with him.

He felt less on edge after he dropped his parents off at the airport. Maybe nothing had changed with Ilya, but their steady presence had regulated his nervous system enough that he could relax for the first time in weeks. It felt good that they knew about him. He felt less alone, and less like he was sneaking around acting out of character. Their easy acceptance made his coming out feel simpler and less character defining. He was still their son. He was the exact same as last time he had seen them, just with more heartache.

Chapter 12

Shane let the stack of paperwork sit on his desk for a few days. He’d been worrying that his mom’s well intended research may come across as patronizing or meddlesome. He was also very worried that Ilya hadn’t looked into his visa as much as he should have. He desperately wanted him in the safest legal space he could be.

Shane opened their chat, then stared at the last messages woefully. It was Ilya saying he would stop by the store, sent the afternoon Shane had ended things. Shane had replied saying he was looking forward to seeing him. He wished he’d meant it.

He typed out a hello, then groaned, immediately stuck. Instead, he opened Word on his computer and drafted his message there.

Hi Ilya, I hope you’re okay. I hope you don’t mind me texting you.

I told my mom about your visa worries and she’s concerned that you might still be on a work visa when there’s better options for you. She left some paperwork about it at the bakery for you to look through.

I’m sure you’ve already researched it yourself so there might not be anything new to you, but she is quite good. She helps me with all my visa stuff.

He read it back several times, then typed it out again into the message thread. He sent it off.

The read receipt showed up immediately. It always did. He wondered if Ilya ever put his phone down, or if he did every practice skate with his phone in one hand and stick in the other.

He saw Ilya type and delete a couple of replies before one came through.

Ilya
You told your mom about me???

Shane
I didn’t say who you were. Just that I’d been seeing somebody and it didn’t work out because it could jeopardize their visa.

Shane
I told my dad too, I hope that’s okay.

Ilya
They know I’m a man?

Shane
Yes.

Ilya
Were they nice??

Shane
Really nice. It didn’t feel like a big deal at all.

Ilya
I’m happy for you, Shane

Shane
Thank you. Should I drop the paperwork off for you? I can put it in your mailbox if you want.

Ilya
I can pick it up

Ilya
If you don’t mind

Ilya
I don’t want you to have to come all the way out here

Shane
I don’t mind.

Ilya
Is it ok if i come before you open

Ilya
This week but not sure which day

Shane
Yes. Any day is fine.

Ilya gave a heart response to the last message, but didn’t reply. Shane took a deep breath and read the conversation back several times. Ilya was coming back. Sure, it was just to pick up paperwork, but he desperately wanted to see him again. He thought it would help soothe some of the desperate need that he felt.

***

Rose had taken two weeks off work for intensive theater rehearsals. Shane had encouraged her to do it and insisted she didn’t take any breaks to help out. He wanted her to put everything she had into it. Acting was her dream and she was brushing up close to it. He didn’t want to distract her from that.

He and Jackie were managing things just fine, anyway. She didn’t usually work such long days, or so many shifts in a row, but was happy to help and excited for the extra money on her paycheck. She brought her kids in with her - all four of them - and they were having the time of their lives treating the bakery like their own personal preschool.

It did slow Shane down, to have the twins questioning every aspect of his baking, but he was enjoying their presence. He showed them how to make chocolate chip cookies and acquiesced when the girls insisted they needed frosting and pink sprinkles. He added them to the menu as the Ruby and Jade special and they were giddy with excitement anytime one sold.

*

There were two more days until Rose would be back when he got a late night text from Jackie.

Jackie
I’m SO SORRY but the kids are throwing up all over the place it’s like they’ve joined forces to create a personal hell for me

Jackie
I can’t come to the bakery tomorrow. I’ve got Hayden asking all the FOH at the restaurant if anybody wants to work my shift for me. I’ll find somebody!!!!

Shane swore under his breath. He hated the idea of a stranger coming to cover for her, but he really did need the help. He had a catering order to fulfill tomorrow and had no time to work the counter himself. His phone buzzed again.

Jackie
OK I have somebody lined up for Sunday, but everybody is busy or on shift at the restaurant tomorrow. I’m so sorry Shane!!

Shane
Its okay, it happens. I hope the kids get better soon! ♥️

Jackie
They better!! I’m keeping them in the bathroom I can’t clean the carpets again!!!

Shane smiled despite his own stress. He laugh reacted to the message and put his phone back on charge. He would keep the store closed tomorrow. Or perhaps he could start earlier and take a break from his catering order to open briefly for the lunch rush. There would still be a dip in profits, but it would soften the blow. He glanced at the clock, then sighed and started to get ready for bed.

***

Shane wrote his temporary opening hours on a piece of paper and stuck it to the window first thing in the morning. The last thing he wanted was somebody trying to buy a coffee from him at 7:30. It would be bad enough dealing with the lunchtime customers with his mind elsewhere.

He took himself back to the kitchen and wrote out a to-do list for his catering order. It was for a very large anniversary party and they’d ordered an entire buffet of cakes, cookies and pastries. Shane had been looking forward to putting it together for weeks.

Shane hit his flow state easily. He set a few loaves of bread to bake and cobbled together some easier items for the bakery. He let them pile up on a side counter to cool while he got started on his actual task list. When it was nearing 7am, there was a knock on the door.

“We’re closed, sorry!” He shouted.

“It is Ilya.”

Shane swore under his breath. He put down his tub of sugar and went to let Ilya in.

“You are open for lunch only today?” Ilya asked, nodding towards the window. He lingered near the door, as if unsure that he was allowed further.

“Yeah.” Shane said. He walked back through to the kitchen, gesturing for Ilya to follow. He got back to work immediately - he had no time to spare. “Rose has rehearsals and Jackie’s kids got sick. I have a catering order to do, so I can’t work the counter.”

“Ah.” Ilya said. Shane saw him reading his to-do lists. “Who is selling lunch, then?”

“Me. I’ll do it on my lunch break.”

Ilya frowned at him. “You are very busy. You should have break.”

Shane shrugged his shoulders. “It’s fine. It’s my store, things like this happen sometimes. It was way worse when I first opened, or when I was doing my apprenticeships. They had me working crazy hours.”

Ilya made an unhappy sound. He looked around the kitchen and spotted the stack of bread and pastries in the corner. “They are for the displays, yes?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll get them out later. I just need to make some progress with all this then I’ll feel better.” Shane gestured to his work bench.

Ilya pulled a face at him, then filled a tray with loaves and walked them out to the display. Shane could see him stocking it through the service window.

“You really don’t have to do that, Ilya, but thank you.”

Ilya just shrugged a shoulder at him, loading the tray a second time.

Shane watched anxiously, then returned to the tasks at hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ilya walking back and forth. He saw him adjusting the displays, carefully arranging the stock to his own pleasing. It was taking him a long time.

Twenty minutes passed before curiosity got the better of Shane and he walked out into the store to take a look. Over his morning visits, Ilya had gotten better at arranging the displays. It still wasn’t as neat as Jackie or Rose could have done it, but he seemed to now understand what products looked good next to each other and how to line them up to avoid things looking sparse. Shane couldn’t help his smile and turned to Ilya to compliment him.

He was met with the sight of Ilya loading the float bag into the cash register. It was already powered on and set up for the day. Ilya must have learnt from watching Shane do it.

“What are you doing?”

Ilya shrugged again. His face was neutral, but there was a playful twinkle in his eye. “Setting up for shift at bakery. I am thinking maybe NHL is not enough for me. Will be good to have pocket money.”

Shane’s eyes widened. “You can’t do that. Ilya.”

“I can.” Ilya said. He pointed to a drawing Jackie had stuck to the front of the register - Arthur had worked very carefully at it for at least ten minutes. Shane thought it was maybe meant to be a picture of his pistachio and lemon cake, but he wasn’t sure. “Did you draw this?”

“Fuck you. Have you ever even worked retail before?”

“No.” Ilya was smiling now, like he knew his answer would wind Shane up even more. “It cannot be so hard, no? I will tell everybody that your bread is delicious, then I will make sure they buy. I am very good at making sandwiches.”

Shane stared at him. He looked down at the register, then back up at Ilya. “It’s a long time until lunch.”

“I will open for morning, too.” Ilya said. “I can make espresso. We have machine like yours in players lounge.”

“Do you make good espresso?”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “It will be fine. I will tell everybody no fancy drinks today. Only what I learn from hockey players.”

Shane pressed his lips together, then nodded his head. He looked up to meet Ilya’s eye and found him looking right back at him.

“Thank you.” He said. “Really, thank you. If you get sick of it, you can close up any time. There’s probably not enough stock to last past lunch anyway.”

Ilya nodded his head in agreement, then gestured back to the kitchen. “Is no problem. Go back to work, or I will start to think you don’t need me here at all.”

Shane took one last look at Ilya poking around at the register's menu, then hurried back through to the kitchen.

*

True to his word, Ilya did get along with no troubles. Shane had frozen in place when the first customer came in, listening to the entire interaction with curiosity and concern. He was ready to go out there and save Ilya from the register, or the coffee machine, or whatever kind of brioche mishap he may conjure up, but instead he was treated to Ilya making cheerful morning conversation with a slightly confused businessman. He heard Ilya ask him how much milk goes into an Americano, steam it, then laugh it off when the customer told him he’d made a latte instead. He heard him talk the guy into accepting the incorrect drink.

Shane stirred cream, sugar and lemon zest slowly to form a lemon posset, inhaling blissfully as it filled the store with a fresh, citrus scent. He allowed himself to daydream, imagining that Ilya was here in the store every day. It felt so domestic, like one of those Italian restaurants where an old married couple ran the place. He wondered what he could teach Ilya to bake. He’d probably be hunted for sport if he captured a generational hockey talent and reduced him to a life of wiping tables and stirring posset.

As it was, news was spreading around the city that Ilya Rozanov, Boston’s star center, was working in a bakery for the day.

It started slow - a couple of very polite and slightly giddy women in their 50’s stopped by and told Ilya that they’d read he was here on Twitter. They took photos and gave very encouraging feedback as they watched him make their coffee. He heard Ilya talk them into buying a box of pastries, then add a couple of sandwiches onto the order. They told him they looked delicious with every ingredient he added. Shane rolled his eyes to himself - Ilya was the last person who needed his ego stroked so thoroughly. He was enjoying listening to it, though. It was nice to hear Ilya lathered in praise from his fans. It was nice to hear Ilya laugh along with it, too. To hear him flirt and charm them out of their nerves.

Some fans were coming in casually, pretending they didn’t know that it was Ilya and that they were simply in the area with a hankering for a sandwich. Some were louder and more boisterous. Ilya shut it down quickly - they’d get him fired on his very first day on the job, he said.

Soon, there was a queue building up outside the door. Shane felt guilty about it. Ilya really had taken on a hard day's work here. He was sure somebody in his management would be mad about Ilya staging what was essentially an impromptu meet and greet, with no security or organisation to be seen. He pulled some of his emergency cookie dough out of the freezer and baked it off, knowing the stock must be emptying out fast.

He waited for the cookies to cool, then loaded them onto a tray to carry out front. Ilya was mid conversation with a lady and her preteen son, encouraging the boy to keep up the hard work in his hockey league. He was autographing the brown paper bag he’d put their sandwiches in, then also signed the boy's phone case when he held it out nervously. Shane started filling the display with his cookies, moving around the signage there.

Ilya said goodbye to them, then gestured that the next customers should wait where they were. He turned to Shane with a smile - a bit weary from several hours of customer service.

“I made cookies.” Shane said, gesturing to the display.

“Look good. Are you getting your work done?”

“Yes.” Shane said. He lowered his voice so the customers wouldn’t hear. “Thank you. So much. Are you okay out here? You don’t have to do all this.”

“Is nice.” Ilya said. He took a cookie from the case and took a big bite, munching on it with pleasure. “Maybe I let you hire me for real. I think I will be dream team with Rose and Jackie. I am very good at this.”

“I think we’d have problems negotiating your salary.”

“I will take pay cut.”

“If you keep eating the stock, I’ll have to deduct that from your pay too.”

“I thought you were nice boss.” Ilya reached for another cookie and Shane knocked his hand out the way. Ilya laughed and shooed him. “Back to work. I have customers. I will bring you coffee if I find time.”

Shane smiled bashfully. He gave a thank you wave to the three men who had waited for Ilya to finish talking to him, then hurried back to the kitchen.

He didn’t see Ilya bring him a coffee, but the next time he turned around there was an Americano waiting by the service window with a sandwich plated up next to it. Shane grinned stupidly at the sight. The coffee beans were burned and the sandwich fillings weren’t layered in the order he would usually specify, but it was the best lunch his bakery had ever served.

*

A couple of hours after lunch, Shane finished his day's work. He put his catering order into boxes for transport and stacked them up on the bench, then started cleaning the kitchen. Ilya had run out of food to sell long ago, but was staying behind the counter with the expectation that any person who approached him would buy a coffee.

He must have noticed that Shane was packing up, because he loudly announced to the queue of people that the bakery would be closing soon. He’d serve anybody already inside the store, but if you were outside the door then you were out of luck. Shane eavesdropped on their conversations and felt a pull on his heart when he heard Ilya briefly leave the bakery to shake hands with the people waiting outside, so nobody would leave too disapointed.

Finally, he came back into the kitchen,

“Phew!” Ilya said loudly, flopping down onto his usual stool.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Ilya grinned. “Was hard work, being complimented all morning, but I do what I must.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“No.” Ilya said. “But I wanted to. You and your mother are trying to help me, so I help back.”

Shane scrubbed at a stubborn flake of dough on the counter. His daydreams were silly. This day was transactional. Their relationship still may not work. He remained wanting anything he could get. He looked up at Ilya.

“Do you want to come with me while I deliver the catering order?”

Ilya looked at him. Shane watched his eyes flicker over his face - his eyes, his cheeks, his lips. Ilya looked at the boxes stacked up and nodded.

“You need big strong man to help you carry these?”

“Fuck off. I’m a big strong man too.”

“Mm.” Ilya hummed. “I will come. Maybe you will drop me off at my home afterwards? Marly was going to drive me home after practice.”

Shane frowned. “You had practice today?”

“I was meant to.” Ilya shrugged. He pulled out his phone and started to scroll through his messages. “Was optional, so is okay. I said I found new job.”

Shane just stared at him. “They’re going to see that you were here. Aren’t they going to think that’s weird?”

“Maybe.” Ilya sounded disinterested. “I think they have very strange personal lives also. I can help my friend with his business if I want to.”

“Right.” Shane threw the cloth in his dirty rags bucket harder than he intended. He took the shop keys off the hook and handed them to Ilya. “I’m going to cash up, then go upstairs and get changed. Can you make sure everything is locked up?”

Chapter 13

Shane parked his van on the turning circle outside Ilya’s home. He kept his seat belt buckled and turned to look at him.

“Thank you for your help today. It was really kind of you.”

“You do not need to keep thanking me.” Ilya said. He was also still strapped in. It was as if they both needed restraining from each other.

Shane pulled the manila envelope of paperwork from his door pocket and held it out to Ilya.

“This is my mom’s research about your visa. I hope it helps, but it’s okay if it doesn’t.”

Ilya pursed his lips. “It probably will.” He took the envelope but didn’t look inside. He held it against his lap and stared down at the ‘Ilya’ Shane had written in sharpie. “I have not researched it myself. I did what management told me and assumed this was best course of action. They told me it was good for taxes.”

“Oh.” Shane said. “Well, maybe the taxes could be a sacrifice.”

“Yes.” Ilya said. He rubbed his thumb over the envelope, back and forth. Shane could hear his skin brushing up against the paper in a steady rhythm.

“Maybe you will let me have your mama’s phone number?” Ilya asked, after a couple of moments. “I would like to say thank you.”

Shane blinked at him. Would Ilya tell his mom who he was? Or would he text her as Shane’s anonymous ex-situationship? It was strange either way, but he wanted to share everything he had with Ilya. He wanted him to take anything he wanted.

“Of course.” Shane said. He leant over Ilya’s lap and scrambled in the glove box for a pencil, then found his mom’s phone number in his contact list. He wrote out the number on the envelope while Ilya held it steady, pausing before adding ‘Yuna Hollander’ and underlining it.

“She asks a lot of questions.” Shane warned. “And sometimes she comes across as kind of abrupt. She just likes to make sure everything is as it should be. Don’t think she’s being rude to you.”

Ilya shook his head. “I like these things.”

“Good.” Shane said. “I think she will like you.”

The corners of Ilya’s lips twitched into a smile. He looked back up at Shane. “Would you like to come inside for tea?”

He caught Shane off guard. The invitation felt very old fashioned. Shane nodded his head eagerly anyway. “Yes, please.”

Finally, they both unbuckled their seat belts and left the van.

“I did not know you drove a van.” Ilya said, casting a glance back at it. “It was fun to be your passenger. Like we are working men.”

“I am a working man.”

“Yes.” Ilya said. He was smiling now. “Very masculine. So strong, throwing bags of flour around in back of van. I thought you just iced cakes all day.”

Shane rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. Ilya glanced over at him as he unlocked the door and gestured for Shane to go in. There was a large stack of brown boxes in the hallway, taped shut and stacked neatly as if waiting for collection. The writing on them was in Russian and English.

“Are you moving?” Shane asked, his brow furrowed.

“Huh? Ah, no. I sent them to myself from Russia.” Ilya moved around the boxes quickly and Shane followed him to the kitchen. Ilya set the kettle to boil and turned back to Shane with an expression that indicated he expected questions.

“I thought you said you didn’t go back often?”

“I do not, no, but I went this month. Just for couple of days. I got back last week.”

“Oh.” Shane turned back to look at the boxes. “Surely you could have paid a service to send your stuff for you?”

“I had some things to take care of. It was much better to be there in person.”

Ilya rummaged in a paper bag on the kitchen counter and held out a jar of what looked like cherry jam, except the fruit was still whole and visible through the syrup. “Would you like to try some varenye with tea? This is cherries. I brought some flavors back for you. I thought you might like them. Not that you could not make it yourself.”

Shane blinked at him. When was Ilya planning on giving these to him, if Shane hadn’t reached out? He wanted to throw himself at Ilya’s feet and beg him to have him back. “You did that for me?”

“Yes. Do you want tea?”

“Yeah, that sounds really nice. Thank you.”

Ilya nodded. He pulled more jars out of the bag. There was another jar of cherries, then raspberries and blackcurrants.

“These are for you.” Ilya said, before carrying the original jar of cherries over to the kettle and beginning to fix their cups of tea.

Shane picked up the jar of raspberries to study it closer, holding it up to the light. It did look easy to make, but he was excited for Ilya to share a piece of his home country with him.

“That was my least favorite.” Ilya said. Shane looked over at him with interest and Ilya seemed encouraged enough by it to keep talking. “If I was sick, my mama would give me a big cup of tea with it stirred in. I did not like tea yet, so it was horrible. Now I like it. It tastes like being cared for.”

Shane smiled at him. “My mom would give me ginger tea when I was sick. I didn’t like it either, but now I drink a lot of ginger.”

Ilya stirred the mugs of tea one last time and put the spoon in the sink. He handed Shane one of the mugs and clinked his drink with Shane’s. “To our mama’s, then.”

“To our mothers.” Shane repeated. He brought the mug to his lips and took a tentative sip - it was really too hot to take a full mouthful, but he was curious and the toast had implied that he should drink immediately. It was tart and syrupy and perfect for the winter that was rapidly closing in. Shane gave a curious little ‘mm’ that had Ilya watching him closely.

“You like?”

“It’s lovely.” Shane said. “Thank you, again, for thinking of me. I really like this.”

Ilya didn’t smile, but he looked pleased. He walked over to the couch and Shane followed. He glanced back at the boxes.

“Will you tell me what you were doing in Russia? Did you see your family?”

Ilya gave Shane a long, assessing look. He sipped his tea, then stared down into the cup. “I was.. how do you say.. tying up my ends there?”

“Your loose ends.” Shane supplied.

Ilya nodded. “Yes. I have no loose ends in Russia now. Well, maybe one. But I do not mind that.”

Shane studied Ilya’s face, but it was completely neutral. He was good at locking down his emotions. He imagined never going back to Canada, but he couldn’t even comprehend it.

“What about your parents? Your brother?”

“My parents are dead, Shane.” Ilya’s voice was gentle. “They have been gone a long time.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“No. I didn’t tell you.”

Shane felt put out by that. He was sure he had asked about Ilya’s family before. Then again, everything about Ilya’s tightly controlled emotions indicated that he didn’t enjoy talking about anything remotely vulnerable. He tried to put aside his hurt and be grateful Ilya was answering his questions now.

“I’m sorry.”

“Is fine.”

They both sipped their tea in silence. Shane stared at Ilya and Ilya looked out the window at a bird hopping from branch to branch in one of the trees.

“What about your brother? Will you never see him again?”

“I hope not.” Ilya replied. He glanced at Shane as if to gauge his response. “I have been sending him lots of money for very long time. Since I moved to America. I was going to end it when my..our.. father died, but then his wife had a child. I could not leave them alone with him.”

Shane tried hard to keep his face neutral. He didn’t want Ilya to see anything there that would make him stop talking. He wished he was sitting close enough to put his hand on his thigh. Then again, that would probably make him stop too.

“I think he knew that.” Ilya admitted. “So his baby pawn worked. I send money, I talk on phone with baby. I try to make sure she knows who I am and that I love her. I do not know if the rest of her life loves her, but I do know she gets enough money to eat well.”

“How old is she?”

“Six, now. She is named Viktoriya . She is very quiet, but very sweet.” Ilya took a sip of his tea, but it took him a couple of tries to swallow it down.

“And you.. wont see her again?”

“My brother.. He is liar. He tells me he needs money and I send it, then he calls again and tells me he needs more. What I send is never enough. He did this with my father and now he does it with Vika. He says they need me, then gambles and parties and inhales my money. He is too old for this behavior. I am foolish to let him string me along for so long.”

“Ilya.. You’re not a fool. You’re trying to take care of your family.”

Ilya sniffed. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and fixed his gaze back out the window.

“Anyway. I have said no more money. I have given him my apartment in Moscow. He can sell it, if he likes. Is worth a lot. Not as much as I have given him, but enough to live on. Or he can get job and keep it. I do not care, so long as Vika is taken care of.”

“Why now?”

Ilya’s expression finally gave way into a frown. His eyes darted to Shane, then away again.

“I did not want my Russian loose ends any more. Or a brother who extorts me. I do not wish to come out just yet, but if anybody found out.. I would not be able to return to Russia. It would be much harder to arrange things. Vika is old enough to fly with chaperone, now. I think Alexei may allow her to visit. He does not like me or America, but a summer without having to pay for his little girl will be enough.”

Shane thought about everything Ilya had said. Ilya had been in Boston for over a decade. He wondered how much money he’d sent back to Russia in that time. Probably more than Shane had ever earned. His heart ached at the thought of him trying to do the right thing for his family. He tried to decide what Ilya would like to hear in response to his vulnerability.

“I hope she comes. I would like to meet her.”

Ilya nodded. “She would like you, I think. I would like to see you teach her to bake. I saw your sign for Ruby and Jade special. It was very cute.”

Shane’s lips twitched into a tiny smile. “Maybe they will get along.”

“Maybe.”

Shane stared over at Ilya. He wanted to wrap him up in a hug, but that felt like too much. He pulled his feet up onto the couch and stretched out his legs until his toes were bumping up against Ilya’s thigh. Ilya looked down in surprise, then over at Shane. He covered Shane’s feet with his hand, gathering them both together and squeezing. Shane knew he was trying to express appreciation.

“I want you to know that I’m proud of you.” Shane said. Ilya’s eyes narrowed, but Shane pushed on. “I have been since the moment we met. When I told my parents about you it was because you were so special to me that I couldn’t keep it in.”

“Oh.” Ilya’s voice sounded quite wet. Shane looked up from the hand on his feet to Ilya’s face and saw his eyes were shining.

“Ilya..”

“Sorry.” Ilya said, turning his face to one side. He sniffed loudly and rubbed at his eyes with his palm.

Shane hesitated, then crawled across the couch to him. He knelt by Ilya’s side and put his hands on his biceps, forcefully twisting him until his head could rest on Shane’s shoulder. He pushed a hand into his hair. Ilya’s arms hung limply by his sides.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No. I am.. Is relief, maybe. Nobody has said this for me in long time.”

Shane wanted to open Ilya up and pour him full of love. He cursed anybody who had been unkind to him, who had not known what a gift he was. He cursed his past self for not realizing what a treasure he’d been handed. He rocked him side to side and pressed his lips to the side of his head. “I’m so proud of you.” He repeated against his ear. “You’re so good. So loving. So worthy of love.”

Ilya heaved a wet gasp into Shane’s neck. His back shook with a sob and Shane rubbed it.

“I want to be worthy of your love.” Ilya admitted. Shane’s heart felt like it was splintering. He was glad Ilya couldn’t see his face and the way it crumpled. Ilya who had flown back to Russia on a couple of weeks' notice to remove all links to the country. Ilya who showed up for him without Shane ever asking. Ilya who weaseled his way into his life without second thought, even when it could risk everything.

Shane fisted Ilya’s hair and used the grip to pull his face out of his neck. He pressed their foreheads together so he could make eye contact. It was intense, through their lashes and brows. “You always have been. I just wasn’t ready for it yet.”

Ilya’s shoulders shook again. One of his hands came up to touch Shane’s side tentatively and his eyes darted down to Shane’s mouth, then back up to his eyes. “Can I..?”

Shane’s reply came in the form of crushing their lips together. He was pretty sure Ilya sobbed into his mouth. It was an awful kiss, considering Ilya was actively crying through it. Both of their faces were soaking wet and there was more snot involved than Shane would like to think about. It felt like coming home. Or finding a home. He clutched Ilya close and kissed him again and again, until Ilya was pulling away. Shane tried to follow, but Ilya held a hand against his chest.

“Stop. I am disgusting.” Ilya said. He was laughing, so Shane thought his chances of getting to kiss him again were high. Ilya took some tissues from the coffee table and wiped his face with them. He looked at Shane and huffed another laugh, taking a fresh tissue and mopping up his face too.

“We are both disgusting.” Shane leaned in for another kiss and Ilya accepted it.

“I like this ‘we’.” Ilya said. It was his turn to kiss Shane. Shane hummed in agreement around his tongue.

“We should always be a we.” Shane elaborated, the next time they pulled apart.

Ilya’s hand was up the back of Shane’s shirt now, his fingers spread wide and warm over the small of his back. It was possessive.

“I like ‘mine’, too.” Ilya pinched Shane’s side. “And ‘yours’.”

Shane nodded his head. They kissed again. “I’m yours.” He said, against Ilya’s lips.

Ilya made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a moan. Shane savored it. Ilya reared up onto his knees so he could stop twisting at the waist. He crowded into Shane’s space until Shane had no choice but to lean backwards and fall flat against the couch. Ilya’s lips connected with his jaw.

“I am yours.” Ilya promised. His hands pushed against Shane’s stomach, then his arms, then came up to cup his face gently and keep their gaze connected. “Yours. All yours. Always.”

Shane’s breath caught as he took in the beautiful man above him. His eyes were red from crying, but the blue was brighter than ever. His lips were swollen from kisses and all Shane wanted was more of them. He leaned up for another, pulling Ilya down against him.

*

They had both fallen asleep on the couch, clothes rumpled and trousers undone. Shane woke first, with the heavy weight of Ilya settled over his chest and legs. He ran a hand through his hair gently, smiling when Ilya made a pleased sound and turned his head in the direction of Shane’s touch. He let him sleep for a while longer.

Eventually, Ilya woke up with a sigh. He pulled Shane’s hand to his mouth and kissed his palm, then each of his fingertips. He took the tip of Shane’s thumb into his mouth and sucked it idly, rubbing his tongue in circles over the skin there. He angled his head to look up at Shane with sleepy eyes and Shane looked back.

“I have to go.” Shane said reluctantly. “I have work in the morning. We can go back to mine, if you’d like. I’d like to spend the night with you.”

Ilya released Shane’s thumb and ran his tongue down the length of it, over Shane’s palm and to his wrist.

“Oh, would you?”

Shane pinched Ilya’s ear and gave it a gentle tug. “Yes.”

Shane felt Ilya’s smile against the skin of his wrist. “Okay.” Ilya said. “We can do that.”

Chapter 14

Chapter Notes

“Shane! There’s a handsome hockey player here to see you!”

“Send him to the kitchen!” Shane called, smiling to himself. Ilya had only left a couple of hours ago and it was weird for him to be back so soon, but at least he’d get another kiss out of it.

“Forget something?” He asked, then startled when he turned around and it was not Ilya.

Marly stood in the entrance of the kitchen, looking around with interest. He grinned at Shane. “Expecting a different handsome hockey player?”

Shane shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe, but it’s nice to mix things up.”

“Yeah, sure.” Marly said. He was holding a brown bag from the store.

“What did you get?” Shane asked, nodding towards it.

“Sandwich. Rozy’s always look fucking good, so now it’s my turn. And I got a Mil.. mill.. full.”

“Mille-feuille.” Shane supplied, smiling at Marly’s attempt.

“Yeah, that. Looking forward to it.”

Shane nodded his head. He moved some trays around on his bench aimlessly and tried to come up with what to say next.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Marly supplied for him. Shane looked up in alarm.

“Okay?”

“Or like, just suggest something, really. No pressure or anything.”

“Okay.” Shane said again. He went back to shuffling his pans, just to keep his hands busy.

“You seem really close with Rozy.”

“..Yeah..”

“It’s okay if you have, like, a really weird family or something. Or you hate Christmas. Or you don’t celebrate it? I don’t know. But have you thought about inviting him over for Christmas?”

“Ilya doesn’t celebrate Christmas.”

Shane had been thinking about it, actually. He'd tried to suggest it multiple times, but Ilya would switch the subject as soon as the word 'Christmas' came up.

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” Marly said. “He says he doesn’t celebrate it, then he goes and sulks for a week and acts like a bitch.” He glanced towards Rose working the counter. She was definitely listening in. “Sorry, acts like a dick. I brought him to my mom’s last year and it kind of worked, but Gramps kept bringing up the Cold War and Rozy pretended he couldn’t speak English anytime he got near him.”

Shane was half amused and half upset at Marly carting Ilya around like a lost cause. “Maybe you scared him off Christmas entirely.”

“Maybe.” Marly shrugged. “But getting a gift and eating a huge lunch is like, his ideal afternoon. I know he likes Christmas.”

Shane was smiling again. That sounded pretty accurate. “I’ll ask him.”

“Cool.” Marly grinned. “Don’t let him say no. Or tell me if he does. I’ll see if I can bring him to mom’s again. It sucks to think of him alone, right?”

“Yeah.” Shane agreed.

“Don’t tell him I’m walking around town acting like he’s a sad little orphan.” Marly said. “He’d be so mad at me. But like, he kind of does act like a sad little orphan sometimes. It’s hard not to worry about him.”

Shane nodded along. He wondered if Marly saw Ilya the way he did - how he pushed his way through the world with absolute determination, but struggled to let anybody close enough to understand what his motivations were. He wondered if he ever talked about his feelings with Marly.

“No, It’s fine. It’s nice that you care about him.”

“Cool. It’s nice that you do, too. He really respects you.”

“Cool.” Shane echoed back.

Marly stood up straighter and cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ve gotta go. I said I’d meet some of the guys in the gym. See you later, Shane.”

“See you, Marly. Thanks for coming.”

Marly saluted, then saw himself out the kitchen.

***

Shane spent the rest of the day plotting his ambush. He wasn’t going to trick Ilya into spending Christmas with him, he just wanted to make sure he was fully warmed up and ready to receive the question before Shane asked it. Shane knew Ilya would enjoy spending the holidays with him, he just had to make sure Ilya could recognize that too.

By lunch, he had a plan fully formed. It started with a text.

Shane

Dinner at mine? Would you like to stay over tonight?

Ilya

Are you dinner??

Shane

I already have a meal planned.

Shane

I could be breakfast.

Ilya heart reacted immediately. Shane didn’t see him typing, but a picture came through. Ilya was in his home gym, sweaty and sprawled on a bench. His white vest was almost translucent. Shane could see abs and peaked nipples through it, even with the mirror being a distance away from the camera. He heart reacted Ilya’s message just as fast.

Shane

Fuck. I want you.

Shane

Four more hours of work.

Ilya

Show me you

Shane blanched. Ilya was always generous with his selfies, but Shane rarely tried to send anything sexy back. He especially didn’t feel very sexy at 12:00 on a Sunday, after baking all morning. That said, he did have a pretty good pump on his arms after lugging around dough and flour for hours. He switched the selfie camera on and held his phone out at arms length, then laughed at how goofy it looked. This wasn’t going to work. He walked to the kitchen door and poked his head around the frame.

“I’m uh, just going upstairs for my lunch break!”

Rose waved him off, too busy talking to a customer to reply. Shane was relieved. He took off his apron and hurried upstairs.

Shane stood in front of the bathroom mirror and assessed himself. He looked nice, but that wasn’t what he was going for. He took off his fleece and folded it, then placed it on the floor just outside of the bathroom where it wouldn’t be seen in the reflection. It would be too much to take off his shirt, he decided. He was meant to be up here casually on his lunch break. He rucked one sleeve of his t-shirt up to his shoulder, showing off the full muscle of his bicep, then stood there trying to figure out what next. He was sure Ilya didn’t put this much thought into his selfies. He stared at his reflection again, then unbuttoned his jeans and tucked his thumb under the waistband of his briefs. This was good. Now his arms looked good and he had an action. He opened the back camera and took a series of five selfies.

After buttoning his jeans up and pulling his fleece back on, Shane sat down at his dining table and scrolled through the five of them. They were okay. He was pulling a weird face in a couple, but there was one where he looked at least mildly seductive. He sent it off to Ilya before he was tempted to try and take more. Ilya heart reacted again.

Ilya

Mine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ilya

Fuuccck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ilya

My gorgeous boy!!!!!!!!!

Ilya

OMW now!!!!!!!

Shane grinned to himself stupidly. He had no idea if Ilya was actually on his way, or just joking.

Shane

Too late, my break is over.

Shane spread some butter and pate over a slice of bread and ate it as he went back downstairs.

It turned out that Ilya hadn’t been exaggerating much with his text. It only took him an hour to show up at the bakery, still damp from his shower and carrying an overnight bag. He waved at Rose before heading through to the kitchen.

“Take your jacket off. I came here to enjoy view.”

Shane raised an eyebrow, then did as he was told. He hung the fleece up by the door and returned to his work station. Maybe he flexed more than was really required when knotting cinnamon buns. “It’s cold.”

“I will move closer.” Ilya shuffled his stool to the edge of Shane’s workbench. He rested his elbows on it and his chin in his hands, watching Shane work. “Warm now?”

“No.” Shane said. He glanced over at Ilya. “You weren’t wearing a hoodie in your picture, either.”

“Ah.” Ilya said. He took off his hoodie and hung it over the back of his stool. “Happy?”

Shane drank in the sight of him. He was in another ribbed vest - this one was black. He wished his kitchen was private so he could slide his hand under the collar and squeeze at his traps. “Maybe.”

“Maybe.” Ilya repeated, with disbelief. He nodded at the counter. “What is this?”

“Huh? Oh. Cinnamon buns. They’re knotted the Scandinavian way. I don’t glaze them, either. I studied in Denmark for a while and I feel like one of my old mentors would hunt me down if they saw me making them like an American.”

“I like the frosting.” Ilya said with a shrug. Shane made a mental note to make the frosted Cinnamon buns next week.

“You will like these too.” Shane assured.

“Will you show me how to tie them?”

“Oh? Sure.” Shane smiled and slid a few strips of dough across the counter. He leaned across the counter so Ilya could see the way he twisted the dough, then gently knotted it. Ilya followed along well.

“Good.” He praised. “Now do the others.”

Ilya rolled his eyes, then worked through the other pieces of dough. His second one was good, then he seemed to lose his way with the third. Shane slowed down his own motions again so Ilya could copy without asking for help.

Ilya held up his last strip of dough. “Can this be mine?”

Shane nodded his head.

Ilya rolled the dough into a sausage shape and began shaping it carefully in a manner that Shane had not shown him. Shane did his best to mind his own business and keep working. After a minute, Ilya slid the shaped dough across the counter to Shane. He’d folded it into an elaborate heart shape.

“For you. Like little plyushka.”

Shane wanted to giggle. He knew he was blushing.

“Why did you know how to do that?”

“I would make them with my mama.”

Shane smiled down at it, then up at Ilya. He spoke quietly. “I want to kiss you.”

“Is that all?” Ilya asked.

Shane glanced at the open store, then back at Ilya. He gave a quick shake of his head.

Ilya grinned. Shane huffed a laugh to himself. This was ridiculous.

“Come on.” He said, pushing the trolley rack loaded with cinnamon buns to the far side of the kitchen. “I’ll show you how to load the ovens, since you want to work here so bad.”

*

Ilya had a hand on Shane’s ass the moment he was in the stairwell to the apartment.

“The door!” Shane protested. “Close it!”

Ilya groaned loudly and unlatched his lips from Shane’s neck to slam it shut, twisting the key in the lock and shoving it back in Shane’s hand. He immediately returned to the task of sucking the skin at the edge of his jaw and kneading his ass.

Shane laughed, tipping his head back for Ilya’s access while keeping up his pretense of struggle, shoving him away with not even a fraction of his full strength. “We have a couch just upstairs.”

“Shut up.” Ilya said. Shane could feel his smile pressed against his neck. He grabbed hold of Ilya’s chin to redirect the kisses to his mouth. Ilya moaned into it, pressing Shane up against the opposite door. Shane felt his hands move lower. The kiss stalled while Ilya leaned down a fraction and then he was lifting him, pressing him up against the wall by his thighs. Shane gasped into the kiss. He pushed his arms around Ilya’s neck and squeezed his waist between his legs, holding on tight.

Ilya groaned again, rocking his hips up against Shane’s. “Should fuck you like this.”

Shane moaned as he imagined it. He shifted in Ilya’s hold, testing how much leverage he could get. He pressed his shoulders into the wall and his hips closer to Ilya, as if making room to fuck him. Ilya took the invitation and thrust roughly. Shane could feel his dick, hard and hot through his sweats. “Ilya, you’re so fucking strong.”

“Mm, so are you.” Ilya said. He was looking down at where Shane’s shirt had rucked up - at the slight abs showing on his stomach and the V lines disappearing into his jeans.

“You like that?” Shane asked. He had been wondering about it, ever since he saw the photo of Ilya and Svetlana. Did he usually go for muscular men, or was Shane the exception?

Ilya laughed. “Drives me fucking crazy.”

Shane grinned. He slid one hand up to Ilya’s hair and grabbed a tight handful. “Fuck me, then.”

Ilya moaned. His hands tightened in the flesh of Shane’s thighs as he held him in place, thrusting up over and over, using Shane for his own pleasure. At one point he was shaking so hard that Shane worried he might drop him, but he just squeezed tighter around Ilya’s waist and held out hope that he wouldn’t fall. His own core muscles were aching from the position - his neck was sore from being pushed up against the wall. It was delicious. He hoped they could fuck like this for real, sometime.

“You look so good.” He told Ilya. “Fucking gorgeous. All mine. Are you going to cum for me? Cum in me? I want to see you.”

Ilya moaned. He pressed up close one last time, grinding until he was done. He put Shane down immediately - Shane couldn’t fault him for that - and started to scramble for Shane’s belt. Shane pushed him away, using actual force now to press Ilya up against the opposite wall. Ilya went easily, confused but obedient in his post orgasm haze.

“Not yet.” Shane said, starting on up the stairs. “I promised my boyfriend dinner.”

“Your boyfriend, huh?” Ilya followed him. Shane supposed they hadn’t used that word yet.

“Yeah. He’s this big strong guy, super hungry.”

“Must be pretty hot, to have smokeshow like you cooking for him?”

“I think he’s alright.”

*

Shane sent Ilya to clean himself up and find a pair of Shane’s sweats he’d like to change into. He was gone a long time, presumably poking through all of Shane’s clothes now he had a valid excuse. By the time he emerged again, Shane was most of the way through cooking dinner.

He’d grilled some vegetables with a miso glaze, steamed rice and assembled an easy salad. He’d seasoned a cut of steak and was letting it rest at room temperature while he waited for Ilya. He had bought it a couple of days ago with the intention of cooking it for him and was looking forward to feeding Ilya an actual meal, rather than the various toasts and salads he whipped up.

Ilya came out of Shane’s bedroom sniffing the air and giving a curious “Mm?”. He came up behind Shane and wrapped his arms around his waist, pushing close and tucking his fingertips under his waistband. “What is this? Steak?”

“Yeah.” Shane said. He leaned back against Ilya and moved the steak into the pan. His eyes glanced between it and the clock he kept on his counter top, timing how long he had before he needed to flip it.

“I am lucky.” Ilya said, kissing Shane’s neck. Shane knew he meant it.

“We both are.”

He flipped the steak, then again every 90 seconds until five minutes had passed and it was done. He moved it to a plate to rest and poured some mirin and soy sauce into the pan, letting it thicken and form a sauce.

He sliced the steak and split it between two plates, along with the rice and the glaze from the pan. He took it all to the dinner table, then returned to tip the veg and salad into serving bowls. On his third trip to the kitchen, he filled two glasses of water. He pursed his lips in thought, then grabbed a bottle of Sake from his wine rack, along with the ceramic cups he’d taken from his parents home. The Sake felt a bit on the nose - he did have a white wine chilling too - but Ilya was always drinking Vodka and he thought he’d appreciate the stronger choice.

He waited until Ilya was seated, then poured the sake into his cup. He held out the bottle to Ilya. “You pour me mine, now.”

He scooped up his cup and held it out. Ilya sniffed the open bottle, then did as he was told.

“Now we cheers.” He instructed. “You say ‘kanpai’. If you were with my parents, you’d clink the cup a little lower than theirs. Like respect, you know? You don’t have to drink it all in one go. It’s not a shot of vodka.”

Ilya nodded. He picked his cup up and made eye contact with Shane to make sure they’d speak at the same time.

“Kanpai” they both murmured. He didn’t miss the way Ilya clicked his cup just a little lower than Shane’s. It was a nice gesture.

Ilya took a sip and smacked his lips together thoughtfully. “Is nice… Is uh.. Nutty?”

“Yeah.” Shane smiled. He took a sip from his own cup, then picked up his cutlery. “You’re right - nutty. Sometimes it isn’t. I don’t ever buy my own sake - I just let restaurant friends give it to me when they have something they think I’ll like. I shouldn’t really let a bunch of white guys tell me what to drink, but they probably know better than me anyway.”

Ilya looked at him carefully, then picked up his own cutlery. He moved some veg to his plate and ate a forkful of carrot and rice. “But you drink it with your parents, too?”

“Sometimes.” Shane said. “My dad is kind of into nice alcohol. Vodka, Whisky. He likes Sake too. I thought drinking like that was an old man thing until I met you.”

Ilya laughed. “Old men and Slavs, maybe.”

“Maybe.” Shane agreed.

He took a few bites of his food, watching Ilya enjoy his.

“Did you eat a lot of Japanese food, growing up?”

Shane shrugged. “Kinda. My Obaasan moved back to Japan when I was quite young, but she looked after me a lot before I went to school. She would pick me up after sometimes, too. Dad did all the cooking in our home. He likes to cook Japanese, but he’s white, so it’s not like it’s the most authentic. It’s always good, though.”

Ilya nodded along. “My mama did the cooking. She was good at many things, but maybe not cooking. I do not think she liked doing it.”

“Cooking for a family every day probably gets stressful.”

“Mm.” Ilya agreed. “I think about it sometimes.”

Shane raised an eyebrow. “Cooking for a family?”

“Yes.” Ilya gave Shane an easy smile. “I think I could like doing it, maybe. And you are very good cook. We can take turns. It would be very modern.”

Shane couldn’t help but laugh. Ilya was fantasizing about family life with him? About swapping out the household chores?

“How many kids do we have?”

“I do not know.” Ilya said. “I think after I knock you up the first time, you tell me you are not doing it again. But maybe we have accident. Twins, maybe.”

“Are twins in your bloodline? Because they’re not in mine.”

“Ah. Just two babies, then.”

Shane laughed again. “You really want that?”

Ilya shrugged. “I would be happy without babies, also. But some days I like to imagine.”

“I always thought I would have two kids.”

“Ah, yes. In your house with the picket fence?”

“Yeah. I grew up going outdoors a lot. I’d like them to have a yard to play in. Like.. bugs and stuff, y’know?”

Ilya grinned. “You were grubby little boy? Playing with creepy crawlies?”

Shane scrunched up his nose. “I didn’t like, pick them up or anything. But I liked looking under rocks and seeing what was there.”

“Disgusting.” Ilya said. He looked delighted. “You would have put bugs in my little city boy pockets.”

“I wouldn’t!” Shane was laughing. “I was a city boy too! I was just in the suburbs.”

“You were running wild in muddy fields.” Ilya argued.

“Only in the summer, at my parents' cottage.” Shane said. “And it wasn’t muddy then. I’ve never liked being dirty.”

Ilya hummed thoughtfully. Under the table, his ankles bumped up against Shane’s. “I would have liked you, even with the creepy crawlies.”

“Would I have liked you?”

“I hope so. You were probably putting the bugs in my pocket to flirt.”

“I’ve never put a bug in a pocket.” Shane said, with an air of finality. He finished his sake and topped Ilya’s up for him, then held the bottle out so Ilya would fill his cup again.

“This is nice.” Ilya said, gesturing to between the cups. Shane assumed he meant serving each other.

“I think so, too.”

“And the food was very good. You are spoiling me.”

“I want to spoil you.” Shane said. He finished his food and lay down his cutlery. Under the table, he stretched out a leg and rested his foot on Ilya’s chair, next to his thigh. Ilya immediately started to rub it. Shane made a content noise. He could sit here all night, belly full and Ilya gently kneading his aching feet. “I still need to shower. Maybe you’d like to take a bath with me, after?”

“Why can’t I shower too?”

“Because you’ll be busy washing up.”

*

Shane showered thoroughly, trusting Ilya to clean up and entertain himself. He used his fancy bubble bath and a couple of drops of lavender oil in the tub, then swished the water back and forth until it foamed up suitably. He was feeling self conscious over his bathroom as he imagined seeing it through somebody else's eyes. It hadn’t been renovated in decades and the fittings were very old fashioned, as per Mrs. Dubois’ taste. The room wasn’t very big, but the tub was large and freestanding and would definitely fit the two of them. He worried about the discolored grout and old tile, then tried to shake it off. Ilya had never given him any reason to believe he didn’t like spending time in Shane’s apartment. He had never once suggested he’d rather be hanging out in his very modern, very pristine mansion. He liked Shane. And his home.

Shane brought a small lamp into the bathroom and perched it on the edge of the sink, so that he could turn the big light off and let the room take on a warmer, yellowy glow. That was better.

He took off his clothes and put them in the laundry basket, then moved the basket out of the eye line of the tub. He was overthinking this. He let the bathroom door swing open and lowered himself into the tub. “Ilya?”

Ilya came trotting through in seconds. He was carrying two cups of sake and was already naked. Shane laughed at the sight of him.

Ilya frowned. “Is rude to laugh at somebody when they are naked.”

“Not when they’re ridiculous.” Shane shuffled forward in the tub to make room for Ilya behind him. “Get in.”

Ilya made a wounded sound, but climbed in. The water sloshed and threatened to spill over - Shane had underestimated the sheer mass of the two of them together. Ilya moved slowly so it could drain before it overflowed. He put the cups on the edge of the tub, then leaned back.

Shane reclined, resting his head against Ilya’s shoulder and closing his eyes. He sighed happily. Ilya’s arms slunk around him, one hand resting flat and open against his belly and the other closing loosely around his dick. It wasn’t a sexual touch, he was just holding. Shane knew it wouldn’t be long before he was hard again if he kept that up. He gave an amused little ‘Huh’ and rolled his head on Ilya’s shoulder. Ilya kissed his forehead when it came close to his lips.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“About Christmas.”

“I do not celebrate this.”

“Yeah, but I do.”

Ilya made a displeased sound, but he still felt relaxed against Shane’s back.

“I go back to Ottawa for Christmas every year. I shut up the store and go stay with my parents. I’d really like you to come with me.”

“Is time for your family. I should not be there.”

It was Shane’s turn to make the displeased sound. “You’re my family too, now.”

“Ah.”

Shane didn’t turn to look at Ilya, but he wished he knew what his face was doing. It was probably shut down into the usual stony look he gave when he was trying to hide his thoughts.

“I want you to meet my parents, and I want them to meet you.”

“It will be weird, meeting them for first time at Christmas. Staying in their home for a week. This is intimate, yes?”

“We can get a hotel, if you’d like.”

“Then I would be taking you away from your family.”

“You are my family too.” Shane repeated. “I want to see you together.”

Ilya sighed. He trailed a fingertip up and down Shane’s stomach. “Maybe.”

“I want a yes.”

Ilya groaned, pinching Shane’s belly between his fingers. “My demanding boy.”

Shane laughed and tried to shove his hands away. Some water spilled over the edge of the tub and Ilya laughed too.

“Okay, I will come.”

Chapter End Notes

I was going to wait until Tuesday to upload, but you guys got me to 200 kudos and I am giddy! I've been having so much fun reading your comments. I've got a lot of writing to do for the last update, but hopefully it'll be up next week. Thank you for being here <3!!

Chapter 15

Chapter Notes

Shane had discovered that one of the many perks of being Ilya’s boyfriend was flying first class. He’d protested when Ilya had booked the tickets - it was a lot of money to spend when the flight was only an hour and a half, but he had to admit that he was coming around to the idea when he was sat in an extra wide seat with a glass of champagne.

He flew out to Ottawa two days before Ilya, because Ilya still had work commitments and it would avoid the public knowing that he was so close to Shane that he would work in his bakery for a day and spend the holidays with him.

Shane spent those two days nervously buzzing around his parents home, telling them tidbits of information about Ilya and trying to seem like he wasn’t climbing the walls. Picking up on Shane’s anxiety, they were trying to act like it was no big deal at all, but Shane had seen his mom's interest when he’d confirmed that his boyfriend was actually Ilya Rozanov.

He’d planned on watching Ilya’s game quietly on his phone, but came downstairs to both his parents watching it on the TV. He should have known this would happen - the game was against Montreal.

“That was good.” He heard his mom say begrudgingly, after Ilya made a tricky pass. His dad made an agreeable sound.

Shane sat down slowly, trying not to draw attention to himself. He watched quietly with his legs crossed and his phone in his hand, even though Ilya was very clearly busy and not about to text him. Ilya returned to the bench and the camera lingered on him. He had his head down and was chewing his mouth guard.

“Well, he’s certainly a handsome boy.” His mom said.

Shane cringed. “Mom!”

“He is.” His dad agreed. He nodded towards Shane, but spoke as if he hadn’t heard him protesting. “They both are.”

It was his moms turn to sound agreeable. Shane wanted to go right back upstairs and keep watching on his phone. He hoped they wouldn’t talk like this when Ilya was there.

“It's a shame about his knee. He can play better than this.”

Shane frowned. Ilya did have a sore knee, but it wasn’t public. He tried to watch the game as analytically as his mom did and saw the way he was favoring one leg, sacrificing efficiency.

“He’s been icing it.”

“Good. David, you should buy some more ice when you go to the store, in case he doesn’t bring an ice pack.”

***

Shane woke up early the next morning and tidied the guest room until it looked like he hadn’t even been there. He hid his suitcase in the closet and unpacked into the drawers, then changed the bedding so it would be fresh for the both of them. He wanted to pick Ilya up from the airport, but Ilya insisted it wasn’t necessary and that it would be less conspicuous for him to drive himself. At least this way Ilya would have a rental car under his name. They hadn’t booked a hotel room, but perhaps this would give Ilya a sense of agency and space, if he felt he needed it.

Full of pent up nerves, Shane drifted from room to room like the ghost of Christmas boyfriend introductions. He boiled the kettle every time he passed it, so he could offer Ilya a cup of hot tea as soon as he got in. He tried to sit at the table and fill in a Sudoku, but he was sure he was just leaving a confusing mess for whoever came to it next.

Finally, Ilya knocked.

“I’ll get it!” Shane called, already scurrying to the door.

Ilya looked a lot more put together than he usually did first thing in the morning. It was funny, considering he’d probably slept on a plane and hadn’t had access to his usual amenities. His hair was styled and he wore dark jeans with a black tshirt and wool coat. His eyes softened when he looked at Shane and Shane couldn’t hold back his goofy smile. “You look good.”

“Yes? Nice enough to meet parents?”

“Absolutely.”

Ilya’s smile had a hint of nerves to it. Shane needed to get these introductions over and done with, fast. He picked up Ilya’s carry on and put it in the entryway, then stepped outside and closed the front door.

“Come on, we’ll go round the side of the house. Dad’s putting baubles on the bushes.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow, but nodded his head. Shane took hold of one of his hands and led him around the side of the house, into the back yard. It was a nice garden. His dad enjoyed gardening and while most plants were not in bloom, there were a few evergreens showing through the fresh layer of snow. His dad was up a short ladder, decorating a large bush he spent a lot of time clipping into a neat circular shape. His mom was a few feet away, clutching a cup of coffee in her gloved hands and presumably telling him every time he put a bauble in the wrong place.

“Hey!” Shane called. They both turned to look at him and his dad quickly got down from the ladder and walked over.

“Hi!” His dad said. Ilya dropped Shane’s hand and stuck it out for a handshake as soon as David got close. “How was the drive? Were the roads okay? I’m David.”

“Ilya. It was a good drive, the roads were all cleared. It is nice to meet you.”

Ilya had switched into his public speaking voice - slower and more enunciated than he sounded when he was speaking to Shane. Shane had never heard it in person and it was slightly uncanny.

“That makes a change! Some years they really let that snow pile up. I hope you’ve got some good tires on that rental.”

“Very good tires. I even have snow chains on them - Shane insisted.”

“Very sensible.”

His mom approached, ending a back and forth that Shane knew his dad would be able to drag on for hours, whether Ilya had much to say about ploughed roads or not.

“This is my mom, Yuna.” Shane said, gesturing towards her.

“Ah, yes. We have texted.”

“Yes.” His mom confirmed. She held out her own hand to shake and Ilya took it. “You should go make him a drink, Shane. Is the kettle hot?”

Shane flushed despite the cold. He thought he’d made it through the morning without his parents making fun of his nervous homemaking.

“I hope so.” He replied, trying to keep his voice level. His mom flashed an innocent smile and he narrowed his eyes at her, then took hold of Ilya’s wrist and gave him a gentle tug in the direction of the back porch.

*

Shane made them both tea - black for Ilya and green for himself, then showed Ilya the living room. Ilya held his cup close and looked around curiously, much like he had when he’d first visited Shane’s apartment. He stood in front of a wall of photographs and spent time looking at each one. “You were very cute.”

“Yeah.” Shane agreed.

“You still are.” Ilya said, glancing over at him.

“So are you.” Shane shuffled closer, until he could feel the warmth of Ilya against his side.

“Not like you.” Ilya said. He raised a hand and tapped a finger gently against a newer photo, taken of Shane for an article in a local Boston newspaper. He was standing behind the counter in his store, smiling like he wasn’t quite sure what to do. “I like this one.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“No? I suppose is misrepresentation. You did not look at me like this from behind counter. You were always scowling at me.”

“I wasn’t!” Shane argued. “And if I was, it was because you were stressing me out.”

“Mm. I liked it.”

Shane rolled his eyes and sipped his tea. He heard his parents come back into the house. “Come on, I’ll show you where my room is. It’s the guest room now, but it used to be mine.”

*

A few hours later, his mom had bullied Ilya into changing into sweats and elevating his knee on the coffee table. Shane was in the kitchen assembling him a cold compress with a zip lock bag and dishtowel. His mom had been right and Ilya had not brought one with him.

“This is not polite.” He heard Ilya protest. He sounded mortified.

“What is 'not polite' is playing substandard hockey with a bum knee.” Yuna dismissed, clicking her tongue.

“You saw my hockey game?”

“I’ve seen every game you’ve played against Montreal since you were drafted.”

“Ah.” Ilya said.

Shane came back into the room and handed Ilya the makeshift compress. “Mom said you were the worst thing to happen to Montreal since the ice storm.”

His mom made an embarrassed noise and Shane considered it payback for her comment about the kettle. It perked Ilya up a bit. His mom dropped a thick blanket down on Ilya’s lap, then sat on the opposite end of the couch. “Would you like to watch the Centaurs game with me? I don’t mind if you make fun of them, but you might upset David.”

“I cannot make fun of them.” Ilya said. “It would be like kicking a man when he is down.”

Yuna laughed and switched on the TV. Shane hesitated, then sat down next to Ilya. He unfolded the blanket and put it over both of their laps, then crossed his legs.

David came to join them at the second interval. He sighed sadly through the game. “They don’t deserve this.” He said, as another goal was intercepted. “They are such kind men.”

“Very kind men, to give Washington the puck so often.”

Yuna laughed again and David smiled despite himself. “I always told Shane that it’s the taking part that counts.”

“I do not think Shane lives by this motto.”

David laughed now, and Yuna shot Shane a proud look.

“I don’t think it’s bad to want to be the best.” Shane said, shrugging his shoulders. Ilya’s hand slid into his under the blanket and squeezed.

*

His dad made chicken parm for dinner. Shane recognized that he was pulling out his best meal for Ilya’s first night here. It was nice to see that his dad was trying to impress Ilya just as much as Ilya was trying to impress him. Ilya kept repeating that it smelled delicious as it cooked, then that it was delicious as he ate. He had taken a modest portion and refused when he was encouraged to have more. When he finished long before everybody else, his dad had pushed the serving dish closer to Ilya and insisted he finish it. Ilya had done so with a pleased smile, his cheeks flushed pink and happy.

*

Ilya started to wilt at around 10pm and everybody agreed it was time to call it a night. Shane changed into red plaid pajamas and crawled into bed.

“You look like Mrs. Santa Claus.” Ilya told him.

Shane shrugged his shoulders. “I think she would wear a nightgown. With fur trim.”

Ilya made a non committal sound. He switched out the light and slid under the blanket in just his boxers, then put his arms around Shane and pulled him close in a well practiced motion.

Shane enjoyed how it felt to be held, then rolled over to face Ilya. Their knees were touching and he shuffled closer until they were sharing a pillow. He could just make out the glint of his eyes in the dark.

“What do you think?” He whispered.

Ilya made a gentle noise. His hand traced the skin just above Shane’s waistband thoughtfully. “Your parents are very kind.”

“Do you like them?”

“Yes. I hope they like me.”

“They do.” Shane assured. He tilted his head to brush their lips together. Ilya kissed back.

“I like it here.” Ilya admitted into the dark, once their kiss was over.

Shane shuffled closer still and pressed his face against Ilya’s shoulder, moving until their legs were overlapping and their chests were touching. “Good.

***

Shane woke up on Christmas morning with Ilya plastered to his back and his breaths puffing out against the nape of his neck. The sensation was giving him goosebumps. He shifted to try and alleviate the sensation and Ilya whined, pulling him closer. At least now Ilya’s mouth was against his shoulder.

“Good morning.” Shane said, finding Ilya’s hand on his hip and holding it.

Ilya cleared his throat. His mouth was still against Shane, so it was kind of gross. Shane didn’t mind

“Mm.. Happy Christmas.”

Shane’s clock showed that it was almost 7:30am. If he listened closely, he could hear his dad in the kitchen downstairs. “Dad’s already started cooking lunch. We should go help him.”

“We should.” Ilya agreed.

“You can peel the veg.” Shane planned. “I have a pie to make.”

“Will you and your father be very bossy?”

“No. Only me. Dad’s very chill in the kitchen.”

“Okay.” Ilya said. He let go of Shane, only to roll him onto his back so he could lean down and kiss him.

Shane kissed back, then tapped Ilya’s lips with his fingertips. “Thank you for being here.”

Ilya kissed his fingers with every tap. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Shane leant in for another kiss, then pulled them both out of bed. He pulled on a Boston Bears hoodie that Ilya had worn briefly the previous evening. It looked comfortable and Ilya’s pleased smile easily trumped the raised eyebrows he knew his mom would give him. He held one of his own clean hoodies out to Ilya.

Ilya took it, still blinking blearily in the bed. He didn’t put it on and Shane enjoyed the sight of his bare shoulders. “I have gift for you. In bag. Will you get?”

Shane gave him a suspicious look, then walked over to Ilya’s carry on suitcase. He’d been doing his best to ignore its presence since he arrived. For somebody who had spent his entire adult life travelling, he didn’t seem to have gained any skill in packing. Or maybe this was a skill in itself. All his clothes and toiletries were in a messy heap, no order to be seen. He didn’t unpack and the case was so full that it wouldn’t close without the contents being pushed around, so it remained open in the corner of the room. Shane nudged the tangle of clothes and caught sight of a small box wrapped in a gold bow. “This?”

“Mm, yes.”

It was very light. Shane shook it and it made no sound. He puzzled over it as he came to sit on the end of the bed. Ilya’s expression was neutral and offered no clues.

“Should I take it downstairs to open?”

“No, open now. I am shy.”

Shane smiled at the inaccuracy of that. He tugged at the bow and pocketed the ribbon, then let the box fall open. He laughed. It was a pair of swim trunks - tiny and black. He held them up to inspect, confused but interested where this was going. He’d never mentioned swimming to Ilya and he was definitely more of a board short kind of guy.

“Pervert.”

Ilya grinned. “Yes. I saw advert and thought, ‘I would love to see my Shane on the beach in little shorts like this’.”

“I don’t know if they’re the vibe for Pleasure Bay.”

“No.” Ilya agreed. “I was hoping you would let me take you somewhere warmer. Just for a couple of days, maybe. I do not want to keep you away from your work for long.”

“Oh.” Shane said. He folded up the trunks and put them neatly back in the box. Shane had never been on a holiday for pure relaxation. He’d always felt the need to add some purpose to his trips, to excuse being off work. It was a very generous gift on Ilya’s part. He wondered how private their hotel would be. Would Ilya rent a villa? Would they fly together? How long would it take for their schedules to fully line up? He could feel Ilya waiting for him to say more and pushed aside his questions. “I’d really like that, thank you.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah.” Shane put down the box and crawled back up the bed. He leaned down to kiss Ilya and Ilya kissed back slowly, wrapping his arms around Shane’s back.

*

After more kisses, Shane lured Ilya downstairs with the promise of breakfast. His dad had set out yogurt and toppings on the kitchen table, ready for whoever might want it. Shane filled Ilya a generous bowl, adding berries and honey and putting it down on the dining table. “Eat.”

Ilya raised his eyebrows. “You are already bossing me around.”

Shane felt his cheeks turn pink. He should try to keep that in check, really. He couldn’t help it when he knew there was so much to get done. If they fell behind on meal prep, then they’d open their presents late. Then dinner would be late and they might not have time for dessert.

“Sorry. Eat your breakfast.”

Ilya laughed. Shane blushed some more. He was still being bossy.

“No sorry, I will do what I’m told.” Ilya picked up his spoon and started to eat.

Shane put together a bowl for himself. “I’m going to get started on my pie. The pastry needs to chill, so I need the time. I’ll bring you some veg out here to chop, if you don’t mind? The kitchen isn’t that big and we’re both kinda..” He made a gesture between both of their wide shoulders. Ilya smiled.

“This is fine.”

Shane leaned down for a kiss before he went to the kitchen. He made small talk with his dad as he got the pastry started and they both went through their usual Christmas morning routines. He’d been helping his dad cook Christmas dinner since he was old enough to stir a pan. The little stool he’d needed to reach the counter tops still sat in the corner of the kitchen as a reminder. He loved it. He loved that they both had the methods memorized, and that they could work around each other so easily.

When he returned to the dining table with potatoes for Ilya to peel, his mom was there too. She was already holding the knife she liked to use to peel with and was grilling Ilya about the hockey season. Ilya looked nervous, but happy enough. Shane didn’t interrupt the conversation, just brushed a hand through Ilya’s curls as he put the bowl on the table and left them to it.

*

When the vegetables were prepped, his mom went upstairs to get ready for the day. Shane stayed in his pajamas, as was customary for his Christmas day. He would put something nicer on before they ate. Ilya had drifted into the kitchen, standing close to the wall so as not to get in anybody's way. Shane reached out to touch him anytime he walked past, over and over until Ilya gradually drew closer. Until he was standing at the counter next to Shane, watching him cook. David did bump into him a couple of times and Ilya apologised profusely. David waved it off. At some point he poured himself and Ilya glasses of vodka, saying he was pleased to have somebody to indulge with. Ilya looked amused at being given a glass to sip at rather than a shot, but thanked him politely and praised his choice. Shane snuck a sip when Ilya put his glass down, just out of curiosity.

With the turkey roasting, pie ready to go in the oven and the vegetables in their pans, Shane decided it could be time for gifts. He herded everybody through to the living room, where his mom was already waiting with the TV on.

David took his usual spot on the couch beside her and Shane sank to the ground by the tree. He pulled Ilya down with him. Ilya went down with an ‘oof’, crossing one leg and letting the other stretch out in front of himself.

“We have to sit here to hand out the gifts.” Shane explained. He crossed his own legs and let his knee rest on top of Ilya’s. He felt like his childhood self when he sat in front of the tree like this. His parents looked down at him with a fondness that felt raw and exposing and a little embarrassing. He forced himself to savor it. He hoped Ilya wouldn’t see him as spoiled, being indulged by his parents like this when he was in his thirties.

“Ah, yes. I brought gifts too.”

“You put them under the tree?” Shane asked. He was already rummaging. He spotted a couple of boxes with the same gold ribbon he currently had in his pocket and extracted them, reading the labels. Ilya’s writing was a neat cursive he’d never seen him use before. Usually when Ilya wrote, it was in rushed capital letters. Ilya saw him looking and raised an eyebrow smugly.

Shane passed the gifts to his parents. He saw his mom noticing that he didn’t have one himself and immediately jumped in to explain. “Ilya bought me some new swim trunks. We’re going to go for a weekend away, somewhere warm.”

His mom’s expression softened. “That sounds nice. You haven’t had a break in a while.”

“He hasn’t.” Ilya agreed. His hand came down to rest on Shane’s knee. “It is nice that he works so hard, but I would like to see him relax, too. He is always running around with little to do list.”

“That’s hereditary, so you better get used to it.” David said, nodding towards a reporter pad that sat on the coffee table. His mom liked to keep her notes in Japanese, both to stop people from prying and as a way of practice. Sometimes she’d write a note in English, learn how to translate it and erase it to write again. Shane had very briefly tried to do the same, but gave up when he spent more time learning to write and read than getting through his tasks.

“Is no problem.” Ilya said. “Maybe his list can say, put on suncream. Nap on beach. Drink pina colada.”

His parents laughed and Shane blushed, but he could feel his own smile. He liked the sound of that list.

Ilya had given his dad an expensive looking bottle of vodka, and his mom a new coffee grinder.

“They tell me it is the best on the market.” Ilya said, while his mom was turning the box to read the specifications. “It looks very swish, yes? I heard you like coffee beans.”

“It’s perfect, honey. Thank you.” His mom said. Shane could tell she meant it as she held it in her lap. His dad got down off the couch and onto his knees, making old man grumbling noises as he did so. He reached out to Ilya and put an arm under one of his, clapping his back the same way he’d hug Shane after opening gifts from him.

“Thanks, son.”

Ilya looked wide eyed and alarmed over his dad’s shoulder. His mom couldn’t help but laugh and Shane saw Ilya do his best to fix his expression. Ilya patted him back and his dad returned to the couch.

“Do you want to find your gift from me?” Shane asked, as a way of distraction. Ilya looked at him gratefully, then began to poke around. His gift bag had a photograph of a puppy playing in the snow.

Ilya smiled, holding the bag out to show Shane’s parents. “This is cute.”

He pulled out the tissue paper and uncovered a reusable lunch bag and a couple of stainless steel inserts. It was a nice lunch bag, Shane thought. It was discreet and masculine, but still high quality and well insulated. He’d spent a long time comparing options.

“For your lunches.” Shane explained. “Unless you think your team will make fun of you for having a lunch box, then we can keep using the paper bags. But it’s kind of bad for the environment and it’s making it hard for me to keep my stock accounted -”

“It’s perfect.” Ilya interrupted. He leaned in and gave Shane a kiss on the cheek, with an exaggerated ‘mwah!’. “I love it.”

“Good.” Shane said, with a pleased smile. It was no weekend in the tropics, but it was a promise of some kind of domestic permanence. It felt good to have Ilya accept it so easily.

*

After dinner and dessert, Shane was sat cross legged on the couch in his smart trousers and button up shirt. Ilya had caught him in the hallway earlier and told him he looked silly with it buttoned all the way up to his chin. He’d undone three buttons for him and kissed him fast and hard up against the bureau. He’d left Shane rumpled and shell shocked when he left to use the bathroom. Shane stared at himself in the hallway mirror and did up just one of the buttons as a compromise.

Ilya himself looked delicious. He was wearing tailored black trousers and a sweater that clung to his muscles but still veered as respectable ‘Christmas day with your boyfriends family’ attire. His dad had topped up Ilya’s vodka glass multiple times throughout the day and Ilya was soft around the edges in a way Shane hadn’t seen before. It made him want to tuck himself under Ilya’s arm and never leave.

As it was, Ilya was sat on the ground in front of him, working on a puzzle with Shane’s dad.

“I thought you and Shane would be good at this one.” His dad had said, pulling out a box that showed an illustrated map of Boston. Ilya had praised it eagerly and helped spread the puzzle mat over the coffee table, carefully setting aside the notebooks and candles that had been there already.

Shane was backseat driving the puzzle, content to twirl strands of Ilya’s hair and gently rub the back of his neck. He was keeping his movements very small, hoping it wasn’t too much PDA around his parents. He would let go every now and then to point out where a landmark was clearly being put down in the wrong place, or when somebody was smushing together pieces that didn’t belong. The rest of his attention was on watching a bakery show with his mom. She couldn’t bake, but she had picked up enough knowledge from Shane to say some truly horrible things when she spotted a contestant making a mistake. Ilya had spluttered the first time he’d heard his mom call somebody a fucking idiot, but quickly came around to laughing.

“I hope you do not watch my hockey this way.”

“Oh, I do.” His mom replied. “You are not above criticism just because you are the best.”

“I do not think a Montreal fan has much room to criticize me.”

“They do when you haven’t brought home a cup in three years.”

“Three wins are not enough to impress you?” Ilya had put down his puzzle pieces and was looking over at his mom in equal parts horror and amusement.

“No. I think you can do more than that.”

Shane laughed and Ilya gave a thoughtful little ‘huh’.

“You are just like your son.” Ilya said. His mom smiled, clearly pleased.

*

The puzzle sat complete on the table and Ilya had moved up onto the couch next to Shane. Shane was leaning heavily against his side, dozing off and waking up intermittently. Ilya was explaining Russian new years to his parents, telling a confusing story about a snow girl having to jump over a fire and becoming the granddaughter of the old man who brought everybody presents.

Shane was having strange micro dreams about Ilya made of snow and himself returning to woods again and again to give him coal buttons and a carrot for a nose. He wrapped an arm around Ilya’s and turned his face into his shoulder.

At some point his parents announced it was their bedtime. His mom kissed his forehead and patted Ilya’s shoulder and he did his best to wake up enough to mumble goodnight back to her. His dad had clearly thought he overstepped the mark with the hug earlier and waved at the two of them, letting Ilya know he’d left the Vodka in the freezer if he wanted more.

“Sorry I fell asleep.” Shane said, when he heard his parents' bedroom door close.

“Is okay. You were very sweet.” Ilya said.

“I was dreaming about giving you buttons.” He said. Ilya laughed. “Buttons?”

“You were a snowman.”

“Ah.” Ilya said. He turned his wrist so he could link their hands together. “Was I a handsome snowman?”

“Yeah.” Shane sighed. He tipped his face upwards and Ilya took the hint, dropping a kiss down onto his lips. He enjoyed Ilya’s face close to his, so close he couldn’t even really see him. He could feel his breath against his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Ilya said back. Shane felt warm and liquid, like he wasn’t even real. Like he was tethered between dream and reality, where everything was perfect.

“Good. Because I really love you.”

***

Shane woke up alone in bed with the smell of pancakes filling the house. He looked around to see if Ilya was lurking in a corner somewhere, then shrugged to himself and got dressed. Maybe he’d just woken up and ran downstairs to claim the first pancake.

When Shane arrived in the kitchen, he realized he was the last one there. Everything was out of sorts and he was even more confused. Ilya and his mom were crowding around a pan on the hob, a large stack of what looked like very thin pancakes, or very thick crepes next to them. His dad was sitting at the table, watching the two of them fondly. Shane was jealous that nobody had woken him. He would have liked to have watched this, too.

“Look who is awake!” David called. Shane grumbled like he had as a teenager, when his dad made fun of him for tumbling downstairs at noon. It was barely even eight in the morning.

Ilya turned around and smiled brightly at Shane. “Good morning, Solnyshko.”

Shane smiled back and rubbed his palm over his eyes. “You and mom are cooking?”

“I’m just the sous chef.” Yuna replied. “Ilya made us blini.”

“Blini.” Shane repeated, like he knew what that word meant. He sat down next to his dad and looked at the collection of toppings down the middle of the table.

“Shane used to love pancakes for breakfast.” David said fondly. “He’d beg for them every week, then he learnt how to make them himself and suddenly we had no choice in the matter.”

“That sounds like Shane.” Ilya said, smiling over at him. Shane shrugged. His dad was right - he really had held his family captive to his pancakes for months.

When the batter was all used, Ilya filled the mixing bowl with soapy water and left it in the sink while his mom gave the pan a quick scrub to stop the butter getting too difficult to clean. It was funny to see them work in tandem like this, especially when he rarely saw either of them in a kitchen. He’d assumed that Ilya would get along best with his dad, but it was nice to see the way he fell into step with his mom instead.

Finally, Ilya brought the stack of blini over to the table. He put them down, then hesitated awkwardly as if they’d demanded he give some kind of presentation. “These are blini.” He said, eventually. “I would eat them with jam, as a little boy. But it is a special occasion, so we also have lox and caviar. And crème fraîche. It would be sour cream, usually, but I could not buy in Ottawa, so..” He shrugged.

“It looks delicious, Honey.” Yuna said, coming down to sit opposite Shane. Finally, Ilya took the seat next to her. He looked pleased.

“Really good. Well done, Mom and Ilya.” David agreed. Yuna pulled a face at him, as if to say she really had done very little work. Shane looked around the table and smiled. He caught Ilya’s eye and held his gaze for a moment, trying to beam his pride and happiness into him. He thought it might be working.

“Will you make my plate for me?” Shane asked Ilya. “I want it to be right.”

“You cannot do wrong.” Ilya said, but began assembling a plate of blini and cream and fish. Shane saw his parents watching, copying the setup carefully. Ilya handed the full plate to Shane across the table, holding out his other hand for Shane to give his empty one in return.

***

Shane had rejected several of Ilya’s outfits already, refusing to let him go out in gym shorts or without a coat. Ilya was complaining by the time Shane had him wearing an appropriate amount of layers. He was holding a pair of gloves, but not putting them on. Shane considered that a win.

“It’s December!”

“I am Russian. Canadian December is nothing to me.”

“You’ve been in Boston for years.”

Ilya grumbled the whole drive to the lake, then kept it up when he got out of the car and had to tread through snow in his sneakers. “You did not bring snow shovel?”

“I thought you were Russian?”

“In Russia we shovel footpaths. Is very civilized.”

Shane huffed a laugh. “You’ll live. It’s not far.”

Ilya kept grumbling, but Shane could tell he was putting less effort into it as he followed Shane through the woods. The path ended and they came out at a clearing on the edge of a small lake. There was a fire pit, which Shane immediately started to clear and load with firewood from his backpack.

“We could skate on this.” Ilya said predictably, looking out at the frozen water.

“I used to, as a kid.” Shane replied. “We can bring skates next year if you want.”

“Yes.” Ilya agreed quickly. “I did not know you could skate.”

“I’m Canadian.” Shane said, like that was an answer. “I played hockey. I stopped when I got so serious about baking. It didn’t make sense for my parents to put all that money into something that wasn’t my main passion. I’m probably not very good anymore.”

Ilya gave an interested hum. He watched Shane start up the fire. “You are showing off.”

Shane raised an eyebrow. Maybe he was, just a little. He put one more log on the fire. “Are you impressed?”

“Yes. You are very impressive. Wilderness expert. I will have dreams about you saving me in the woods. We will take off all our clothes by the fire, for warmth.”

“I think you should keep your clothes on.” Shane said quickly. “Unless they are wet.”

“I think they are wet, in my dreams.”

Shane rolled his eyes. He scuffled around in the trees, then came back holding a couple of long twigs. He handed one to Ilya and pulled him to sit down on one of the rocks by the fire.

“You need to take the little twiggy bits off.” He told him, leading by example. “And the bark.”

“Great, now I am whittling.” Ilya complained, but did as he was told. “I am lured out of America by a handsome man, and now I am sat on rock whittling in snow. This is why I do not celebrate Christmas.”

Shane let him grumble on, enjoying the sound of his voice.

“Show me your stick.” He said, when his own was done.

Ilya grinned coyly.

“Your whittling. Come on.”

Ilya laughed, then held out the stick he’d been peeling the bark off. Satisfied he’d done a good job, Shane reached into his backpack and pulled out four marshmallows. He skewered two on Ilya’s stick for him, then two on his own. When he looked back at Ilya, he was smiling wide, grumpiness long forgotten.

“We are cooking marshmallows!”

“Yeah.” Shane said, smiling back. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I have seen this on TV!”

Shane laughed along with Ilya’s joy. He held his marshmallow out into the flames, then reached over to Ilya to gently guide him into holding his stick a similar distance away.

“This is exciting.” Ilya told him, staring into the fire as they toasted.

He coached Ilya into toasting his marshmallows perfectly, then watched as he ate them off the stick, grinning wide and sticky. Shane ate his own more carefully.

It seemed that Ilya had a black hole inside of him that marshmallows fell directly into. He loaded his stick up again and again, toasting and eating on repeat. A few caught fire, but he ate them just the same. Shane had stopped after four, knowing he’d feel queasy if he pushed it.

He held his hands out in front of himself to warm them. When he turned his head, Ilya was watching.

“You look pretty.” Ilya told him. Shane blushed.

“I love you.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu.”

Shane didn’t have to ask what it meant. He smiled to himself and watched the fire. They sat in silence for a while.

“I will marry you, one day.” Ilya said.

“You think I will say yes?”

“I will convince you.”

Shane was already pretty convinced, which was ludicrous. It hadn’t even been six months yet. He leaned against Ilya’s side and watched as his marshmallow bubbled. “If we did it before you came out, then it would be safer for you.”

Ilya took the marshmallow out of the fire and waved it around to cool, then ate it in one bite.

“I will not marry you for legalities.”

Shane shrugged. “I know, but I’d like to use the legalities to look after you.” He took one of Ilya’s hands in his and pushed up the sleeve of his jacket just a bit, so he could run his fingers up and down his wrist. “I won’t marry you yet. I want to enjoy my boyfriend, first.”

“You tell me when.” Ilya said. He was watching Shane’s fingers on his wrist “I’ll buy that boring house for you whenever you want it.”

Chapter End Notes

You made it to the end!! Thank you so much for being here, it's been so much fun!! I have appreciated your kudos and comments so much - it's been so exciting waking up each morning and seeing what you've all had to say. I will miss it! :)

I wrote this with the intention of it being a 'Ilya gets loved so hard' fic, then I'd finish each chapter and be like.. oh no.. I kind of whipped Ilya around there. So I ended up writing my own secret little Ilya POV chapters, THEN i thought I'd put them all in a fic, THEN i decided I simply didn't have the patience for that. So I made this into a series and uploaded them all for you at once in a pt.2, if that's something you'd be interested in. I fear Ilya might be grieving just as much as he's being loved, but isn't that always the way.

Anyway, I appreciate you a lot, and hope you have a lovely week!