Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Rose Landry, Hayden Pike, Jackie Pike, Miles (Game Changers), Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Luca Haas, Evan Dykstra, Zane Boodram, Troy Barrett, Wyatt Hayes, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Svetlana Vetrova

Additional Tags:

Heated Rivalry AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Mild Language, falling in love on the train, Boys in Love, Boys Kissing, Multi POV, absolutely no ai, Falling in love on your commute, Shane and Ilya in every universe, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Missing wallet turned love story, Coffee Shop Dates, They're so cute I cry, down bad, Mutual Pining

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-24 Completed: 2026-08-24 Words: 45,557 Chapters: 8/8

Beautiful Stranger

Summary

"Beautiful stranger, sitting right there
Looked up at me and my dark curly hair
Looked back for a second, didn't want to be rude
I tend to fall in love on the tube"
-Laufey

Or, Shane and Ilya are daily commuters on the Millennium Line in Vancouver, BC. After they notice each other across the aisle, they become secretly obsessed with each other. A lost wallet might be the only thing that gets them to talk.

Notes

I originally had this rated as teen however there are some mild sex references later on so just to play it safe we are officially ‘mature’.

This idea came from the lovely berey on twitter (who btw is co-writing the fantastic 27 Suits Hollanov/27 Dresses AU) and this was such a buzzy concept i had to bring it to life

I have no serious knowledge of the Vancouver subway/metro system except for the Skytrain route i took once on vacation to get to my hotel near Canada Place, for arguments’ sake we are pretending their system is as expansive as NYC or something. I did use names of real metro stops that I looked up but at least one does not exist fr fr

Title is “Beautiful Stranger” by Laufey

I don’t think Jackie Pike had ever been given a maiden name in canon so I just gave her one idk

This is not beta-read either so please let me know if you find any mistakes or inconsistencies in my writing

This work may not be used to train AI

Chapter 1

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya become aware of each other.

Chapter Notes

Shane Hollander never imagined he’d be a public transit commuter. In high school, he dreamed of having his own car, driving with the windows down, his favorite playlist blasting as he cruised along the highway. All the space in the cab of the vehicle belonging to only himself, unshared, the smooth drive of the tires cushioning his ride on the open road. A place to mentally prepare for the workday ahead, and decompress at day’s end.

Yet here he sat, with a stranger’s elbow digging into his ribcage on the Millennium Line on his way to work. The train carriage is packed but quiet in the early hours. Fellow sleepy commuters are still waking up, likely checking work emails on their phones, and blowing into their too-hot travel coffee cups before taking a sip. The Vancouver skyline loomed ahead outside the train windows as they hurtled toward the wide patch of concrete and pavement and skyscrapers, universally symbolic of a playground for commerce and corporations no matter the city or country. Vancouver was no different, though its hundred-story structures had long been strongly overshadowed by nature with the coastal mountains that towered around them across the harbor. When the train got close enough, it dipped down into the underground and the city swallowed them.

This trip has been a key part of Shane’s daily schedule for the last year. He moved to the city to take over as the Human Resource Manager for the Vancouver Canucks business operations sector. City traffic turned out to be no joke and he started spending more time in the car sitting in stop-and-go rush hour jams than at home every evening. Fed up with it, he sold his car and purchased an annual metro pass for the SkyTrain. No more highway congestion, no more car payments, gas, insurance, maintenance. It was turning out to be a bigger benefit than he anticipated.

Despite the cramped interior of the train car, the ride was nice, the trains kept relatively clean and for the most part on time. People generally minded themselves, although the evening ride was usually more alive with chatter as other riders made phone calls or complimented someone’s outfit or accessory, or started a raucous chant for the Canucks if it was a game night. The train made Shane feel like less of a stranger in this new city, to be surrounded by people, woven into the vast tapestry of the community. He often found the same commuters sitting around him every day and even started offering a small smile and nod to them as they boarded and took their seats.

Occasionally if Shane worked a half-day, he was treated to a mostly empty train car on his way back home to Brentwood. Sometimes there were some interesting characters at the far end of the carriage, but mostly the other passengers at that time were college students heading to class at one of the local campuses. The weirdest spectacle he ever witnessed on his mid-day commute were a couple of apparent film students filming a project—one of the students in front of the camera wore little clothing apart from skin-tight leopard print shorts and a ship captain’s hat. He was grinding on the rider grip poles like it was a strip club to some provocative sounding song. Shane had rolled his eyes in amusement and went back to scrolling for a dinner recipe on his phone until he reached his stop.

On this particular day, nothing was out of the ordinary. It was a typical Monday morning commute to Rogers Arena. Shane stood from his seat in preparation to hop off at the Stadium-Chinatown stop, putting his AirPods back into the case. Once he was through the terminal and above-ground again, he crossed the winter-damp street toward the Costco (the closest Costco location to an NHL stadium according to a Reddit thread Shane stumbled upon long ago) and up the sidewalk to the staff entrance. A giant banner of Brock Boeser fluttered in the March breeze above him as he scanned his badge to unlock the door.

Upstairs in the part of the arena that housed the business offices, his coworkers were gathered around the break room table discussing their weekend and nursing their morning caffeine. Rose had accompanied the players to a local hospital visit, part of their community outreach, and posted a synopsis of the day on the team Instagram. She had more pictures and videos to edit this morning and compile into a video for the website. So, not so much of a weekend off for her. Luca had a couple friends arrive from Switzerland, and he picked them up from the airport. They would be his guests for the next two home games while they were in town. Apparently they got up to some shenanigans together at the local dive bar in his neighborhood, but then, isn’t that what dive bars are for? Hayden and JJ stayed in their respective apartments and played an unserious session of GTA V online against each other, and PUBG later when they got tired of GTA. Typical, for them.

Shane didn’t have much to share of his own weekend happenings. He meal prepped as he always did, watched a few out of market NHL games as well as the Canucks previous home game, did laundry and cleaned his condo. He always seemed to stay stuck inside his home like trapped royalty, hidden away in the tall tower. Hayden quipped a smart remark about Shane’s commitment to being a hermit, which wasn’t bright because Shane gave it right back to him for sitting inside playing video games all day. It was basically the same thing in Shane’s eyes, regardless of whether Hayden was talking to JJ through a headset or not.

After shoving his prepped lunch into the fridge, Shane trudged to his office. He flicked on the lights and powered his Keurig, filling the basin with a water thermos he brought from home. His laptop lit up at the nudge of a button and he plugged it into the docking station to work from the extended display. The calendar under his keyboard was littered with handwritten notes of upcoming appointments and team statistics for the push to the playoffs. While he didn’t work in hockey operations, he had a hockey brain. And working for an NHL team was a dream come true, to immerse himself in a pool of professionals working for the common goal of a successful hockey franchise.

He had an interview scheduled that day for a young woman who had applied to work in ticket sales. Jacqueline Szymanski. Or, “Jackie”, as she had noted. She had an impressive sales record on her resume after starting in hotels and Shane was eager to fill the position, hoping she was the right candidate based on the paper introduction alone. Arena security popped into Shane’s office a few hours later to let him know she had arrived and was waiting. She was fifteen minutes early—a green flag for sure.

Shane buzzed down to the ticket office after a few minutes to grab the head of ticketing, Miles, to sit in on the interview since the position was in his department. They each greeted Jackie with a friendly handshake, and dove in to the standard interview questions. She spoke of her sales performance, managing accounts and group sales, and how she makes personal connections with her clients which she finds helpful in upselling. How she manages conflict, or deescalates a frustrated customer interaction. Overall, both Shane and Miles were impressed and were ready to offer her the position on the spot. Not to seem like they were desperate, they told her they would be in contact before the end of the week. As she left the conference room and was led out to the main concourse, Hayden passed by in the hallway.

“Who is that?” he asked. His eyes popped out of his head in heart shapes like an old cartoon character.

“A hopeful for the ticket sales job,” Shane provided. He looked away from Hayden to the resume in his hand, and back up when he noticed Hayden was stuck like a statue, staring at the door she had walked out of.

“Well did she get the job?”

“Probably, yeah. Miles is calling her in a day or two to offer.”

“God, she’s so hot, man,” Hayden loudly sighed, mostly to himself.

“Don’t do anything that makes me have to fill out any paperwork, dude.” Shane gave him an amusingly stern look. He made a mental note to put Jackie in a training room far away from the merchandising office where Hayden sat. Maybe in another building altogether.

“Buddy, if I didn’t give you paperwork to fill out, you’d be out of a job,” Hayden jokingly contested. Shane chuckled and shook his head and retreated to the calm of his office.

The remainder of the day was uneventful, just as Shane liked it. No issues arose, he took his lunch break at the same time as always, and completed some boring clerical documents and reports for the upcoming month end. He locked up and fled the cold back to the Chinatown metro station for his evening ride. The saloon-style passenger gates swung open when he scanned his pass, and down the corridor he went to his usual waiting point for the train to pull up.

There was a good crowd already on his usual carriage when the doors slid open. Only two people got off at this stop. Shane craned his head to the next car down and there were a few more open seats, so he quickly made his way over before he missed the threshold for boarding. Scanning the available seats, he picked one between a frazzled looking young man and an older corporate woman with a too-tight bun in her hair, and threw his work bag into his lap before pulling out his glasses and jumping on his phone to scroll. The man on his left shifted and tapped his foot rapidly on the floor, making his knee graze against Shane’s leg in an obnoxious way. Shane pulled tighter into himself. If this guy wants personal space he should get a car, Shane thought.

Thankfully, the guy got off two stations later, and Shane only had a few left himself until he was home. Shane watched him with a dramatic sneer on his face as he disembarked. When he brought his eyes back to his phone he caught the gaze of another man across from him near the doors, about his age, grinning toward him after noticing Shane’s reaction to his rude seat neighbor. The man locked eyes with Shane and motioned to the departed passenger with his thumb and an exaggerated look of disbelief. Shane scoffed in agreement and they both returned their attention to their phones. The train jostled them as it took off again.

Shane’s eyes naturally drifted back up to the other man. He was striking; sharp jaw, sandy curls spilling over his forehead, full lips with a prominent cupid’s bow. Dark freckles peppered his face, one larger mole adorning his cheek. The way he held his face was distinctly not North American, his features were harder at rest than the softness he had displayed with his prior grin. Broad shoulders descended into long arms thick with muscle. Shane could tell even through the man’s sweater that he was chiseled, sculpted like marble. He was, by all accounts, beautiful.

Signs had been pointing, louder and stronger recently with Vegas-style neon flashers, that Shane was not straight. He’d been dating girls as long as it had become the “cool thing” to do in high school and beyond, but none of them had ever given him that feeling he’d read about or seen in movies, or heard his college buddies talking about when they moved past purely sex and settled into something more serious. He’d chalked it up to simply not finding the right girl yet. How could he feel that feeling if the girl wasn’t his soulmate?

Luca at work was queer, and Shane had only just begun to dive into the possibility that girls weren’t for him. It shouldn’t be a big deal, there are plenty of queer people in the world. But finding the courage to admit the truth not only out loud, but even just to himself, was scarier than anything he’d ever done. Hell, he picked up and moved across the country for a job, trading friends and family and trees and air and pavement that knew him by name for a city where he knew no one, on unfamiliar streets and rail lines, mountains and trails where the soles of his sneakers had not yet left an imprint in the soil to prove he’d been there. And that was a thousand percent less scary than this self discovery journey.

It was crazy to him to be ogling a strange man across the train car, but he was starting to become a new Shane here after a year in. Vancouver extended its welcoming hand with a chance to hold up a part of him that always existed in hockey while leading him to unearth the pieces of him that had long been buried.

Just a couple stops later at Renfrew the mystery man stood up to exit. Shane retracted his gaze to his phone in case the man looked back, not wanting to give away that he had been staring. The doors whirred open and closed just as fast and he was gone.

Maybe in another life, Shane would have been brave enough to move across the train and strike up a conversation with the beautiful stranger. Maybe he would have to switch here from his usual train car to have the opportunity to see him again.

Shane made it home within the next twenty minutes and the man’s face flashed in front of his eyes the entire evening. He didn’t even know which hockey game he had turned on during dinner. He couldn’t see anything except those piercing eyes and heart shaped lips.

—

Jackie started at the ticket office two Mondays later. Shane set her up with onboarding paperwork in the morning. Miles gave her the tour of the business offices and support offices in the afternoon to get the lay of the land and meet the team. Well, not the hockey team, but the business and operations team that she would be working closely with. JJ gave her his card with a phone extension in case she needed technical support during her day to day. Hayden bristled and complained to Shane about his lack of business cards. Shane had not received a request for them on his last check-in for office collateral replenishment, and he made sure to let him know this.

Shane went a step further and personally introduced Jackie to Hayden, laughing on the inside when Hayden froze up and inevitably forgot how to speak coherent words in a basic sentence. It was important that they knew each other professionally though, because ticketing often did surprise giveaways and collaborated with merchandising for lucky ticket buyers and season ticket members. He felt a little bad for the poor girl, because he knew Hayden. He would definitely be trying his hardest to win her over if she was single. Mentally, Shane prepared for some form of a workplace conduct complaint. Best case scenario was that he just witnessed their meet cute and they’d be married within a year.

Shane bought her lunch that day as a silent apology for Hayden’s loud crush on her.

Not only for that, but the Canucks were riding close to a playoff berth and there would be mayhem in the ticket office for playoff seats if they did make it. This girl was about to be put through the wringer if it worked out that way.

The train home began like any other commute. Shane waited on the platform and loaded himself and his work bag on as soon as the doors sprung open. Seconds before the door closed, the curly haired mystery man from a couple weeks prior burst through the needle-thin space in the nick of time and collapsed onto the nearest seat with a huff. The commotion made Shane look up, and the man was side-eyeing him with yet another grin as his chest heaved and he caught his breath. He must have missed his stop or was in a different part of town and scrambled here to make the departure.

It looked like he’d been running quite a bit. His curls were damp on the ends and plastered to his shiny sweaty forehead. Shane thought he came from the gym, but when he looked down and saw him in business casual, that didn’t seem right.

For a split second, Shane imagined the man breathing heavily like that on top of him in bed, pinning him down after a round of passionate, rough se- he rid that quickly from his mind with a hard shake of his head and furrowed his brow, returning attention to his phone. It didn’t stop the goosebumps from traveling down his limbs.

When had anyone ever made Shane freaky like that? Pull yourself together, dude.

The man left the train at Renfrew again and once again Shane did not find it in himself to talk to him.

—

One Wednesday morning, the curly haired angel burst onto the train in a similar rapid fashion at Renfrew with an iced coffee just about sloshing through the mouth of the lid. Some liquid still weaseled its way out and wetted his sweater sleeve. He wiped it away on his pants and sipped the excess off the top.

More often than not, the man seemed to be running behind, just barely making the train schedule. Once he was on the carriage, he stole glance after glance at Shane as he settled into his seat. It became a little game between them; looking at the other and averting as soon as they felt the heavy gaze land, blushes warming their cheeks from the obvious attention.

This also made Shane distance himself further and further from the idea of ever breaking the ice with him. It had been going on for so long now, he felt like something should have already happened if it was meant to. Now he was just a creep who only stared at the insanely attractive train commuter and ashamedly went home with the image of him burned into his memory.

🚈🚈🚈🚈

Vancouver was turning out to be a joy and a nightmare simultaneously for Ilya Rozanov. His childhood friend Svetlana had moved to the States several years before to study structural engineering. She’d always been a tough cookie, a complete badass that could hold her own against the boys. She accepted a job as a site manager for new construction at a property management company in British Columbia after graduation, and begged Ilya to come work with her in their marketing department where an entry-level position opened. So not really the same world—or in the same universe—as Sveta’s new job, but he was looking for an out from Moscow and this was his best prospect for a start.

So, a joy because he was free of the motherland’s and his father’s cold controlling hands, but a nightmare because he didn’t understand what the hell was going on in this new city. In this new country. His alarms were set wrong and he couldn’t get out the door on time. The coffee place down the block botched his order 6 times out of 10 and had to remake them. He was brand new to marketing despite always gravitating toward creative ventures and he felt like a fish out of water. Sveta promised him that the other managers there were chill and would support him. They were and they did, but he maintained a certain amount of imposter syndrome at his lack of education and experience.

Sveta had been driving him to work in the city for his first few months. Then, a new job site was announced and she was out near the airport every day for the ground-breaking and to manage the site contractors and building plans. She bought Ilya a metro pass to help him get to the office since she wouldn’t make it to both places on time every day and he didn’t have a drivers license. It was always a challenge getting Ilya to be on time as it was.

The one thing that seemingly could save Ilya from dropping into a full breakdown was a shy, handsome black-haired man that started riding on his train car. Ilya had eyed him up from afar one day, watching him peek into another carriage that was apparently full before moseying into Ilya’s car. He looked on with both amusement and sympathy as the man took his seat next to a known nuisance commuter, never keeping still or respecting the space of other riders in the tight quarters.

Okay, so it was pure amusement at first until his jaw almost dropped at how attractive the man was up closer. And his freckles. Speckled like paint splatter across his cheeks and nose in the most beautiful constellation. He decided he never needed to look into the night sky again because no arrangement of stars would ever compare to the masterpiece in front of him. And then… and then he put on a pair of glasses. That’s when the amusement really steered into full sympathy. This incredibly hot person was being subjected to this fellow riders’ nonsense. Ilya didn’t have an empty seat next to him to offer, otherwise….

He knew from experience that the nuisance commuter would be getting off the train shortly, and when he did, Ilya gestured to the gorgeous man, pointing behind him like “some people, am I right?”. The man blew out a puff of frustrated air and went back on his phone. Soon it was time for Ilya’s stop, and he reluctantly exited the train to head home.

God, that day Ilya hoped he’d be on the train again.

Troy was juggling a fat stack of lease applications when Ilya went to the office later that week, on a Thursday. The firm had purchased a half-finished luxury apartment building where the previous developers had gone bankrupt and needed a quick sale to get out of hemorrhaging more money they didn’t have. There was not much that Centaur Group needed to complete; the structure itself was finished and half of the electrical lines threaded throughout the building. All they needed was to finish electrical and plumbing, and then drywall, paint, and install the included furnishings. The company opened up applications to lease the units that would be available at the start of July. That’s when they anticipated to be fully done with the project, to lock in tenants and guarantee the revenue stream once the building was open. There was such a high demand for housing that applicants started flooding their inbox as soon as the link went live. Unfortunately a few handfuls were pranks applicants, or people who were oblivious to the fact they would never be considered because they didn’t meet the income requirements. It was Troy’s job to sift through them all and further vet the ones with larger potential, while continuing to schedule and attend in-person site visits for available units at their other properties.

The printed applications landed on the community table with a hefty thunk when Troy set them down. Ilya didn’t understand why they needed to print all that when the applications were already done digitally and loaded in a database, but asking questions like that was above his pay grade.

Cliff and Zane (or Bood as the latter was usually called around the office) strolled through the entry together moments later, jingling their key rings around their fingers and discussing something to do with a new commerce tenant in a strip mall. Wyatt sat quietly on his computer in the back corner likely reviewing new maintenance requests and delegating the projects to his team. He spoke the tickets aloud to himself while dragging his fingers through his mustache and made notes on his grid before assigning the tasks. Evan occupied his own walled office, feet kicked up on the desk, browsing a supply catalogue that no one ever signed up for and was all too frequently showing up in their mail deliveries. He should be narrowing down and ordering the cabinetry needed for the luxury apartment kitchens, but sure, comparing the different varieties of adhesive tape was interesting too.

“What’s up, Roz,” Cliff greeted with a handshake and half-hug. “I gotta say, you’ve been looking real dreamy this week for a guy who’s always running around in a frenzy. Anything new? Oh! You finally meet a girl?”

“Fuck off, Marlow,” Ilya shrugged him off, biting back a smile. The beautiful man from the train flashed through his mind. No sense in disclosing this to his colleague when he didn’t know anything more than a face. “Just sleeping better.”

“Yeah, sleep,” Cliff embellished, wagging his eyebrows. “I know when someone’s getting good sleep.” He used air quotations around the words good sleep. Ilya brushed him off again and ventured to his own desk and computer to pick up his latest project: designing full-window decals to advertise available rental space in the development Svetlana was overseeing. Super exciting stuff.

The hours dragged on. Once in a while the phone rang in the otherwise quiet office. Troy manned the phones and transferred a few of the calls. Some lady had rang them to complain about maintenance work that had not yet been taken care of. Ilya could hear her yelling through the receiver across the office and Troy winced at the shrill volume of her tirade, holding the phone away from his ear. She had reported the issue two days ago, and it wasn’t even in her unit. It was in the hallway, where a movers’ dolly had scraped away part of the baseboard and scratched the paint on the wall. It wasn’t exactly life or death, it didn’t diminish the quality of living within her own walls, and was definitely not high on the priority list. Troy did his best assuring it would be taken care of and got her off the line.

Ilya needed to finish up the last bit of his window banner template. The hands on his watch ticked closer to the arrival time of the train he needed to catch, otherwise he’d have to wait another thirty minutes if he missed it. By some miracle his design software didn’t crash out today and he saved the file before putting his computer on sleep mode for the night. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater down to brace for the spring chill. The sky was a crisp blue and sunny, which was deceiving compared to the actual air temperature. He jaywalked just about every street to get over to the train station and for once, boarded comfortably and settled into his seat.

At the Chinatown station, the onyx-haired, freckled cutie stepped into the car and assumed a free seat not too far from Ilya. Still across the aisle though, still a good vantage point to sit and melt in the sight of him. Butterflies tickled Ilya’s stomach every time the man would catch his gaze and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. This was new.

Ilya wasn’t even aware the train was at his stop. The recorded station announcements and the other passengers around him had all been drowned out by his tunnel vision, focused only on his train crush. The high-pitched beep of the doors finally passed through his eardrum and the digital marquee was starting to change over to the next stop at Rupert. Oh shit. He hoisted himself out of his goopy mushy brain and ran out the doors before they closed.

He hadn’t even known he was holding in a breath until he closed his apartment door behind him and the exhale shot out of him like a cannon. It was almost a leisurely day, until his brain pulled that little stunt and got trapped in the quicksand of the person that was the new subject of his dreams.

He yanked a kitchen chair out to deposit his work bag and began emptying his pockets to go and change into his sweats. Phone, keys, AirPods, and….

Fuck. Where was his wallet?

Oh fuck. Oh shit.

Urgently, he tore open his work bag in case he had tossed it in there for some reason. He always kept his wallet in his back pocket whenever he took the train to access his metro pass. Did he throw it in the bag after he sat down in the car subconsciously, too severely distracted by the beautiful stranger he was infatuated with? Oh god. His whole life was in that wallet.

Panic seeped up into his head and it started throbbing. Someone was going to have a field day with his credit cards. Some teenager was going to use his ID at the liquor store or dispensary or something more illicit and the cops would trace his real identity back to him, his work visa would crumble by association and he’d be sent back to Russia.

Fuck his life.

English failed him when he dialed Svetlana on the phone, moments away from tears spilling over. He hurled out an unintelligible string of Russian words, broken and disorganized in his frenzy. She answered with a “Woah, woah, Ilyusha, slow down. What happened?”

“I lost my wallet, Sveta! I got home from the train station and it’s gone.”

“Okay, calm down. We will fix this. Did you have it on the train?”

“I did, yes. I had my metro card in it.” Ilya paced the room, scrubbing his face and the tears that threatened to fall. His breath was rigid and uneven, pushing down the panic attack.

“Go back to the station and look. Actually, I am nearby, I didn’t make it home from work yet. You want me to come get you? We can look together.”

She was at his door within ten minutes, which was already too long to wait. Anything could have happened to the wallet as each additional second passed without recovery.

Ilya swiped them into the concourse of the metro and they scoured every surface that Ilya walked - or, well, ran - past after he hurriedly left the train between closing doors. They visited the security desk to see if anyone had turned in a wallet that evening. Nothing had been handed over, but the clerk took both of their information in case they happened upon anything during the night when the cleaning crews would be working.

At a loss, Ilya sank down on a bench outside the station with his head in his hands. Svetlana sat gingerly beside him and rubbed a hand up and down his spine, her burgundy coil curls falling into Ilya’s peripheral.

“What the fuck am I going to do?” Ilya sobbed into his palms.

“My angel, we will figure it out. You should call the police and file a report to start. And they still have to clean all the trains overnight, it might be found by tomorrow morning. I will help cancel your credit cards just to be safe.” She wiped a patch of wetness away from his lower eyelid with her thumb. “Call the police while we are still here and then we will go get something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” She gave him a stern look. “Okay, okay.”

🚈🚈🚈🚈

The mystery man watched Shane board the train car late on Thursday evening, already plopped in his usual seat by the far doors. Maybe it turned out to be a good day for him for once, because to Shane he looked less out of sorts than usual. Shane had gotten accustomed to seeing him in a rush, getting on the train with moments to spare, curls gone wild from running to the platform. The game of exchanging looks started up as the train rolled onward. The man was extra distracted by the end of it, because the doors opened at Renfrew and he didn’t move until the warning dings sounded for the doors to close. He up and fled suddenly without another glance in Shane’s direction.

At the Brentwood station, Shane slung his bag over his shoulder and stood, holding onto the rider grip on the ceiling, and scrolled a couple more times down his Facebook feed until the train came to a stop. When he locked his phone and reached to put it in his pocket, he noticed a tan leather square sitting on the floor of the carriage. It looked an awful lot like a wallet. He bent over and picked it up.

The leather opened into what was obviously a bi-fold wallet, holding a few cards in the slots. Mostly credit cards, but there was a stack of about a handful of old train ticket stubs from… Moscow? At least that’s what it looked like. The letters were all Cyrillic, some looking like backwards E’s and the number 3 and a weird X that also looked like a fancy asterisk. Behind the interior flap there was a mesh window slot with a British Columbia ID card. The mesh skewed the photo of the ID holder and Shane pulled the plastic card out. A work visa slid out with it and Shane fumbled with paper to make sure it didn’t fall away and get lost. It belonged to an “Ilya Rozanov”, Shane almost looked around the remaining train passengers to see if anyone looked like the person on the ID.

The owner wasn’t on the train anymore, because it was the hot man that always got off at Renfrew. The one Shane couldn’t shake from his mind. The one who bolted in a flash when he almost missed his stop.

The unmistakable curls, the stoney face (he recognized then as the Slavic stare), the enchanting heart shape of his lips. The photo is recent, identical to the person that’s wormed his way into Shane’s brain, and there is absolutely no doubt that this Ilya is the mystery many on his train route.

Chapter End Notes

Italics in quotes are Sveta/Ilya speaking Russian.

I wanted to keep these chapters short and sweet :)

Also boooo parasitic corporate landlords i just needed to give Ilya a job

Comments and kudos are always appreciated!

(did you spot the cameo in this chapter?😉)

Chapter 2

Chapter Summary

Ilya and Shane meet.

I had Chs 1-3 written before I started posting so I hope you enjoy this quick update! So soon what a treat😛

Chapter Notes

Shane sat on his couch, the wallet in his hands welded to his fingertips. Keeping the wallet not only safe, but returned to its rightful owner, was a heavy responsibility. Not something to take lightly considering whose it was. Especially with the important documents the wallet carried. He could only imagine how he would feel if he was in Ilya’s position.

Perhaps if the owner had been anyone else, Shane would have gone right to the local police station to turn it in and leave it to them to track down the individual. But he had been handed a golden ticket to finally approach this handsome stranger, by divine intervention or whatever the hell people called it. It was a little selfish, maybe, to hold onto this for the sake of meeting Ilya. And he feared coming off as creepy by showing up to his house, Ilya’s residential address clearly printed on the ID card.

Taking all that into account, the longer he held onto the item without the ability to notify Ilya of his wallet’s whereabouts would probably induce greater panic to the poor man who was probably tearing up the city for it. He should have acted with some sense of urgency, and he hadn’t.

Shit. He should have gone back on the train to Renfrew and waited to see if he ever came back to look around there.

First thing, he decided. First thing in the morning, he’d power on his work laptop and research this Ilya Rozanov. His work duties could wait in the morning. And it was getting late now anyways.

Shane willed himself to sleep by convincing himself that maybe Ilya hadn’t even noticed his wallet’s absence. It was the only way to soothe his haywire brain for a few hours of rest.

Ilya was not on the train the next morning. It hadn’t even crossed Shane’s mind that he might cross paths with him on their morning commute, but it hadn’t mattered anyways when the train took off from Renfrew with no sign of a golden-haired stud in the vicinity. If Shane couldn’t find out where to locate this guy after a little internet research today, he can always try the evening train.

Hayden popped his head into Shane’s doorway as he was waiting for his laptop to boot up with a mischievous grin.

“Guess who has two thumbs and is one step closer to scoring a date with the new ticket chick?”

“Hayden, clearly you’re talking about yourself, but please keep this out of my office,” Shane sighed. “I need to remain neutral in case this turns into a lawsuit.”

“Christ, dude. I’m not insane,” Hayden defended with a chuckle. “We’ve been chatting in passing and she seems interested. Anyways, what’s on your schedule today?”

God bless her, Shane thought in jest.

“Well, not much but I found- I mean, it’s packed. I have a packed schedule.” Shane already said too much. Knowing Hayden he’d glue himself to Shane’s side and loudmouth his way to Ilya first. “I was thinking about Monday’s schedule for some reason, I don’t know why I said that.”

“Hollander, what are you hiding?”

“Nothing. Please, close the door. I have… a conference call.”

Hayden closed the door behind him but remained standing in front of Shane’s desk. God, he was insufferable when he wanted to be nosy.

“Hayden. Leave. Then close the door.”

Hayden scoffed and threw the door open to clomp back to the merchandising offices.

When Shane was confident that Hayden was gone for real, he logged into his Facebook page on his laptop. In the blue search bar up top, he typed in the name Ilya Rozanov. Good thing results were location based, because he came up first on the results list. It saved some time sifting through the dozen other ‘Ilya Rozanov’s’ that also populated. Shane held his breath as he clicked on the profile.

The man’s profile picture was kind of a thirst trap. His face was cut off above the lips as if he wanted to maintain anonymity, but Shane would recognize that cupid’s bow in his sleep now. Peeking out from behind his neck were wisps of dark blonde curls. From the neck down to his waist at the bottom of the picture he was shirtless, just a gold chain resting along his chest with some type of cross pendant. Huge hands splayed out over his stomach. Hard lines of muscle defined his torso, offering Shane’s eyes a six-pack and the juiciest pectorals he’d ever seen. Freckles blemished his body and Shane traced each one to the vee line that left nothing to the imagination of where it led.

Yeah, he was glad he made Hayden leave the room.

Finally tearing his eyes away from that devastating image, Shane was disappointed to see that all the personal information was hidden on the profile, only viewable by friends. No birthday, no hometown, no education or work info. And they had no mutual friends.

He feared he had hit a dead end because people put fucking everything on their Facebook pages. That was the most information-heavy social media platform on the globe. Until his email lit up with a notification from LinkedIn. Corporate social media. The very place Shane might find a clue for finding Ilya so he could personally return his wallet.

The results on LinkedIn were a little more difficult to navigate than Facebook, considering they showed results of those mutual to your own connections first and then all others. Shane had no idea if any of his professional contacts would know this guy. The profile images on the results screen were also smaller so it took more effort to scour the results page for Ilya’s face. There were a lot of Ilya’s with curly hair, surprisingly.

Then boom. There he was. Crystal blue eyes, heart lips, gaze hardened and staring at the camera in a navy blue pinstriped suit. The company name showed on the results page as Centaur Group Property Management. Shane quickly closed LinkedIn before he clicked on the profile and Ilya got a notification that some rando was sleuthing his page, and googled the telephone number for Centaur Group. The office address came up so he jotted it down along with the corresponding phone number. He switched his search to ‘coffee shops near Centaur Group’ and picked one a block away as a meeting point if he could manage to get in contact with the man.

Shane plucked his laptop from the desk. He could work remotely for part of the day without anyone batting an eye. He headed out to the train station across the street and picked it up to the West End. Once above ground on the sidewalk again, he strode briskly over to the cafe and plugged the Centaur Group phone number into his cell.

Once he ordered and sat with his steaming latte, he pressed the green call button and waited for the call to connect.

“Centaur Group, this is Troy,” the man on the other line answered after a couple of rings. 

“Hi, um. I’m looking for Ilya Rozanov?” Shane said nervously, ending it as a question. What if Ilya no longer worked there but hadn’t updated his LinkedIn? He could guess his former workplace wouldn’t just disclose his whereabouts.

“I’ll see if he’s available,” Troy said, thankfully. “Who’s calling?”

“Oh. My name is Shane. Hollander.” He wasn’t sure why he bothered adding his last name. This Troy wouldn’t know who he was either way.

Troy didn’t put the call on hold or anything, he likely only put his hand over the mic and Shane could hear him yell across the room in a muted volume, allegedly to Ilya. “I think it’s one of those sales pricks for the printer supplies. Says his name is Shane Hollander. Yeah, he asked for you specifically! Yes, by name! Do you want me to get rid of him?” Man, what the hell. Have some decorum, Troy.

“Nyet, no, I will take it,” Shane could hear him say faintly in the background. With an accent. Holy….

There were some beeps through the receiver and then Shane was transferred to Ilya’s desk, he presumed.

“Yes, this is Ilya,” he huffed. He spoke with an accent, Russian if Shane had to guess based on his name alone. “We have enough paper and toner—”

“No, sorry.” What was Shane apologizing for? “I’m actually… I’m not a salesman. My name is Shane.”

“Shane, you just call to chat? I don’t know any Shane’s.” There was a bit of a bite to Ilya’s tone. But, the man had lost his wallet, it probably had not been a very good 12 hours.

However, the way he said Shane’s name was intoxicating. It was warm, despite Ilya’s obvious general annoyance for what he now probably assumed was a prank call, rolled off his tongue, thick and syrupy through his delicious accent. Shane shifted on the cafe chair and whacked his shin on the table leg, which fortunately brought him back to the mission. He rubbed up and down the sore spot on his leg under the table, continuing to speak after he hissed away the pain.

“I found your wallet. I was hoping to return it to you.”

Ilya’s breath caught through the line and then there was a loud thud. Did he drop the phone? There was some shuffling and profanities and then his voice was back.

“Gospodi pomiluj,” he whispered. Then louder, “Fuck, thank you! You have my wallet? Where are you? I will come literally anywhere. Fuck.”

“I think I’m nearby,” Shane lied. Obviously he was as close as he could be without knocking on their door. “I’m working out of Breka today. You know where that is?”

“Off Robson, yes?”

“That’s the one,” Shane replied.

“Five minutes,” Ilya said and he disconnected the call.

A wave of anxiety crossed Shane when the line went dead. Yeah, he’d seen Ilya on the train countless times but they were going to actually meet. Face to face. A formal introduction.

Part of him was nervous because what if Ilya just wanted the wallet back and then he dipped? Shane supposed he had that right, he didn’t owe anything to Shane other than a thank-you. That was really all this was, just the action of a good samaritan. Two people meeting for a singular purpose and parting ways again just as quickly. It was Shane that thought too deep about it and made up fake scenarios that more could come of it.

Shane tried to focus and opened his laptop to sort through some emails when the cafe door flew open. Ilya barged in and with his booming voice, shouted “Shane?” His eyes flicked up and met Ilya’s, whose look of worry softened to something more curious when he zoned in on the man he clearly recognized from the train. Shane lifted his hand and gave a small wave and gestured to the seat opposite him.

“You- you’re…,” Ilya said softly. He carefully lowered himself onto the chair as if it would buckle underneath him. “From the train.” His chest rose and fell, noticeably from running over here.

“Hi,” Shane said. He could feel the corners of his mouth turning up involuntarily. Ilya was mirroring him. “So, I have your wallet, but I need to see some ID to prove that it’s yours.”

Ilya’s eyes bugged out, looking down at his wallet on the table without moving the rest of his head. He was terrified.

“I- my ID is…,” he said frantically. Ilya’s ID was in the wallet, and Shane had the wallet. Shane could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out what to do, thinking Shane was serious. His eyes returned to Shane where he noticed his playful smile grew even bigger and he puffed out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, so you are full of jokes,” Ilya quipped lightly. “You think you are funny?”

“Okay, that was kind of cruel of me, sorry,” Shane laughed. “Here.” He passed the wallet across the table.

Ilya reached for it and their hands brushed together, fingers sliding between fingers on the handover. Shane felt a spark that shot straight to his core, down his spine. It was even better than their fleeting meeting of eyes on their commutes every day. For a moment they just stared at each other. The way Ilya’s face changed yet again into something he might place as desire made Shane believe he felt it too.

“Do you want a coffee?” Ilya nodded with a soft smile and Shane rose to go back to the counter.

It was two and a half hours before Shane and Ilya noticed how much time had passed. Ilya needed to get back to his office to continue his current project. There was no firm deadline, but something always came up that he needed to clear his plate for so it was best to stay ahead. Shane had some missed Teams calls and Slack messages that informed him he was needed to be a witness for a write-up and nobody could find him. He would surely get shit when he returned but this was worth it for how the morning turned out.

“I will see you on the train?” Ilya asked. Shane had bought him a pastry at the counter to further apologize for scaring him for his phony ID prank and Ilya crinkled the paper bag the pain au chocolat was nestled in as they stood up from their table.

“Yeah, see you on the train.” Shane smiled. His arm reached out against his will and patted Ilya on the bicep. He didn’t know what else to do. Certainly not because he wanted to cop a feel of the man’s muscles. Not that. He kind of wanted to hug the man but in a situation like this felt that Ilya would be the initiator. You know, for Shane’s kindness. But Ilya winked before turning toward the door and in a strange way that was even more devastating than briefly wrapping the man up in his arms.

Back at the offices in Rogers Arena, Luca brought one of his junior concession managers into Shane’s office. It was the second month in a row they hadn’t submitted their inventory and payroll to Luca on time. The inventory they could manage a late submission for, but payroll? People needed to get paid. They couldn’t let that slide. Shane was half listening, mind obviously somewhere else. He left it behind at Breka, in the seat across from Ilya.

After witnessing the write-up and signing off on all the related paperwork Shane had absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the day. Nothing new even came in to save him from boredom. He would leave early if not for the promise of seeing Ilya on the train.

Also, since when did he adopt such a one-track mind? Every single thought led back to Ilya. Related to something involving Ilya. He feared he was a goner.

🚈🚈🚈🚈

Breka had been a delightful addition to Ilya’s morning. Unexpected. He would never have guessed after the night he had that his wallet would be recovered so fast, particularly after receiving no word from the metro security. He especially never would have guessed that the most beautiful man he’d ever seen had found it. Or that he’d ask him to stay for coffee.

Ilya was floating.

If he had known Shane was the mystery man from the train he would have taken some time to tame his curls before stepping inside the cafe. He must have looked windblown halfway to Sunday after jetting across the couple city blocks between work and the café. He just kicked himself into turbo speed after hearing someone had his wallet to give back. And then his world turned upside down. In the best way possible.

Cliff clocked his dreamy mood seconds after he walked back in the door.

“Yo, Roz, you can only deny you have a girl for so long,” he called. “It’s all over your face. You’re blushing.”

“What? No, never in my life have I blushed,” Ilya maintained with a most convincing scowl. “Russians do not do this. There is no girl.”

“Sure, man. Whatever you say. That’s why you’ve been gone for hours.”

“Was getting my wallet back,” Ilya grumbled and sat at his computer.

He managed a little progress on his rental space flyers, adding a couple images of store floor plan mockups from the stock photo database. This project kept getting pushed back further and further for other little items that came up. Like those damn window decals he was growing especially tired of. He submitted them and the CEO sent them back with some notes to tweak a few things. Eventually he hit a wall and couldn’t do anything more with his design template. Troy was quietly highlighting more lease applications at the front desk. Ilya pushed back from his desk and crossed the room to his colleague.

“Hey, that guy that called for me earlier?” Troy nodded while keeping his focus down on the stack of papers. “Do you remember his last name?”

“Uhhh, let me think. Shane, right?”

“Troy, you have memory of an elephant, come on.”

“Settle down. Shane Hol… what did he say? Hollander? Nylander? Something -lander. He only said it once. Sue me.”

“Ah you are good-for-nothing.” Troy shot him a dirty look and then marked something on his current application with red pen. “Thanks anyways.”

Ilya sat at his computer again, staring down the internet browser icon until his eyes started to dry from not blinking. He tapped his fingers on the desk top, clicked his tongue and opened a new tab to Google. Typing ‘Shane’ into the search bar, he decided where to go from there. The guy’s surname definitely wasn’t Nylander, Ilya recognized it from an NHL player on another team, and crossed that off his mental list. Troy started saying ‘Hollander’, and that was the most complete other name he spit out. It was worth a shot.

A LinkedIn profile popped up right away with the very Shane he was looking for. Ilya switched his results to photos. A professional headshot appeared from Shane’s Vancouver Canucks employee profile. He enlarged it and lost himself in the image. Shane was so pretty. Prettier in person, but this was nice. After an unknown amount of time had passed, Ilya felt like a weirdo, tracking down pictures of his hero on the internet and he closed out of the entire browser. Then, he opened it back up again and cleared his search history. He couldn’t do this again.

It was time to punch out and Ilya returned his computer to sleep mode until tomorrow. Cliff got Bood teasing him now about his imaginary girl. Ilya waved them off and walked to the train with his hands in his pockets.

Instead of his usual favorite end seat by the doors, Ilya found a lucky stretch of empty seats in the middle of the car and sat at the center. There were a couple stops between here and Chinatown. He put all his good energy out into the air that no one would sit next to him before then. Each stop was agonizingly long, a stream of commuters stepping on and off and filling any empty seat they could find. Ilya placed his bag on one of the seats beside him. If anyone else did that he’d judge them harshly—your bag doesn’t need its own seat, other people have to sit there. But he had an endgame.

At Chinatown he pulled his bag back into his lap when the doors opened. Shane stepped on at the far end and immediately looked to Ilya’s usual seat, looking disheartened when he saw someone else occupying it. He turned on his heel to come further into the train and landed on Ilya with an open seat next to him. Ilya gestured with his head, inviting Shane to sit. The other man looked more than happy to oblige.

“Hi,” Shane said through a grin. His cheeks looked rosy and warm. Their shoulders brushed against each other in the cramped seats. Neither were eager to entertain the concept of personal space with the other.

“How was the rest of your day?” Ilya asked as the train lurched forward. Shane swayed into his side. Ilya found himself taking a deep inhale when he was near, met with a crisp, icy, citrusy aroma that wafted into him, somehow exactly like he imagined Shane to smell.

“Slow. Dead, even. I probably should have gone home. I could have, but…,” Shane trailed off.

“But, what?”

“Oh. Um.” Shane nervously pulled at his eyebrow and scrubbed a knuckle over his eyelid. “I told you I’d see you on the train.”

Ilya’s eyes softened, his own grin widened. “You suffer through boring hours, doing nothing, to ride the train with me? I would have just gone home.”

“Okay, asshole,” Shane laughed. “I’m gonna go find another empty seat.” He faked standing up to walk down to the other end of the carriage.

“No, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ilya softly mocked in apology, pulling on Shane’s coat sleeve. “Stay. I’m glad you enjoy boring for my sake.”

“Was the rest of your day was better?” Shane asked. He put on a more serious front. “I can’t imagine how insane I’d go if I lost my wallet.”

“Yes, much better.” Ilya knocked Shane’s knee lightly with his own. “Thank you, again. You save my entire life.”

Talking to Shane was so easy. Natural. They picked up right where they left off from the cafe. The freckled man was big on asking questions, cracking jokes Ilya would never expect to come out of his mouth, and going on tangents about the NHL. Before Ilya knew it the train had reached his stop and he reluctantly stood to disembark.

“See you?”

“Yeah, I’ll see ya. Goodnight, Ilya.”

“Goodnight, Shane.”

Ilya looked back when he was on the platform and Shane’s eyes followed.

🚈🚈🚈🚈

Ilya rode the train with Shane most every morning and evening through the remainder of that week and the next. Shane so enjoyed this new commute. Well, it was the same route and the same faces, but he had someone to talk to now. A person he was becoming quite fond of. Settling on the seat a little closer to each other every time, smiles a little brighter and moods lifted from the moment their eyes met every day. Ilya acted like he enjoyed Shane’s company, so it was odd when he didn’t ride the train at all for a couple of weeks in a row following.

Shane was worried at the beginning, until he decided he was thinking too much again. Ilya’s hours could have shifted, maybe he was at a satellite office, maybe his company sent him on a work trip. Regardless, Shane looked around the train with lonely eyes once Ilya’s absence felt more permanent, an ache in his chest that wouldn’t cease. 

The Canucks ended their season with no playoff berth earned, and Shane was busy wrapping up work files for the seasonal arena employees until they would come back in October. The empty seat next to him on the evening train on the day the playoff elimination had been sealed was another blow—his team would have no chance at the Cup this year and Shane was still painfully aware of the missing hot Russian he used to sit beside. The seat technically wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t filled with the body he was used to getting tucked into.

A few mornings later, Shane actually awoke with a good, promising feeling. He even picked up two coffees on his way over to his metro station. He filed away Ilya’s coffee order from their first meeting and planned to use it for his benefit. Shane even pulled the old bag-on-the-seat trick to hold a spot for his new acquaintance he hoped would reappear.

Because that’s what they were. He couldn’t call them friends, exactly. They didn’t exchange contact information, they didn’t hang out. They only saw each other on the train, which had been few and far between. Shane hoped that would change.

Ilya scrambled onto the train as the doors beeped in warning and Shane’s heart leapt. He was also overjoyed to see no coffee in Ilya’s hand. Shane tucked his own coffee cup between his thighs so he could pick up his bag for Ilya to sit.

“Morning,” Ilya said groggily. He offered the sleepiest smile to Shane. It warmed Shane enough to melt.

“Hey.” Shane forgot what he was doing for a second and just drank Ilya in. He was adorable, captivating.

Oh yeah. Drink. Right.

“I got you this,” he stated, handing over the other coffee cup to Ilya. Beneath the sunniest golden curls that draped over his face, Ilya’s eyes brightened at the sight of the treat. He gleefully took the beverage and wrapped his lips around the lid to sip. Shane’s jaw dropped at how sinfully beautiful they looked sucking the drink from the cup.

“What?” Ilya asked quizzically. Shane shifted his attention to his own drink.

“Nothing.”

“No, you were staring!” Ilya prodded. “Is okay, Shane. I know I am very sexy.” He flashed his teeth garishly.

“Shut up,” Shane hissed, with absolutely no bite.

“I think you like.”

Shane wished he could admit that yes, he does. Ilya was just being a nice person now that they were familiar with each other, ribbing like they could be buddies; surely he wasn’t into him. He simply hummed and playfully bumped Ilya’s shoulder, and Ilya smiled and placed a hand on Shane’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. It lingered there for a long moment. They sipped their coffees while the train carried them along.

He could have sworn he felt Ilya scooch even closer to him. Unless it was the rickety motion of the train that compressed them together, Ilya was flush up against him by the time they reached Shane’s stop. Somewhere along the line too, Ilya slung his arm around the back of the seat behind Shane as they chatted and drank their coffees. Ilya smiled and nodded along to Shane’s story until the train jerked to a harder slow than usual. Jesus, did they get a new conductor or something? Shane fell in toward Ilya and caught himself with a hand on the Russian’s leg, and Ilya gripped his shoulder to stabilize him. They were closer yet and Shane’s heart beat up into his throat when he felt Ilya’s warm breath behind his ear, senses flooding likely with Ilya’s warm cinnamon and spice cologne. A shiver coursed through his body that he couldn’t quite disguise. He cleared his throat and stood when the train slowed further in a much calmer fashion.

“Thank you for coffee,” Ilya said. He clinked their paper cups together as if they were about to take a shot at a bar.

“Sure, yeah- of course,” Shane replied, flustered. “Have a good day, Ilya.”

“You too. See you after?”

“Yeah… yeah. See you after.”

Shane felt the ghost of Ilya’s breath on his neck and his hands on him for the rest of the day. He stared absently at his screen, daydreaming of Ilya’s hands going other places on his body, his breath speaking things to him he’d never admit wanting in daylight. Their proximity was doing dangerous things to him. Shane’s entire body language would incriminate him in a second if anyone were to walk through his door at any time.

And Rose did.

“Shaney,” she sing-songed. “How’s it- woah, you okay?” She froze when she saw Shane in his down-bad state. Shane clamped his eyes shut to snap himself out of it and turned his attention to Rose.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. You need something?”

“So a girl can’t even come visit her favorite person in the office without needing something?” she teased, leaning against the doorjamb. Shane scrubbed a hand across his forehead, pushing his hair back.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. How’s your day?” She ignored him.

“Shane Hollander, you’re distracted. Who is it?” Rose eyed him down curiously.

“I’m not- I’m not distracted. And what do you mean “who”? I was… trying to… decide my next meal prep.” He met her stare, his statement dry and without confidence. She tutted.

“You meal prep every week and you’ve never once had this look of… whatever this is,” she provided. “We’ve sat together and I’ve helped you with your menu grid. You and your charts and tables….” She sighed. “Does this have anything to do with whoever you ditched the office for the other week? Playing hooky for a couple hours?”

Something in his face gave it away, because Rose’s eyes sparkled with recognition.

“Rose, it’s no one. I barely know him.”

“A-HA!” Rose pointed her finger at Shane and whipped around to close his office door. She plopped down in the seat in front of his desk. “I knew it!”

Shane groaned, rubbing his temples, and he let his head slam down lightly on the desk.

“I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up about it,” Shane whined, his voice flattened by the paper calendar he was resting on.

Rose, never the one to let something go regarding crushes and love and romance, sat and eagerly awaited Shane to crack. And Shane eventually did, because he liked and trusted Rose a lot and gauged a long time ago that she was probably the only person in the building who could give him sound advice. Hayden was especially useless. Luca might be a good listening ear but the kid was young and quiet. Shane didn’t know him well enough yet to drop in and dump feelings out.

As Shane started at the very beginning and delved into the recent physical closeness with Ilya whenever they did make the train together, Rose’s smile grew wider. The wallet portion of the story made her squeal with delight and kick her legs out, but then she screamed because after all their “eye-fucking” in the beginning (that’s what she called it) HOW on Earth did the wallet not instantly get them together? It was fate! She threw herself back to hang off the side of the chair dramatically when Shane said he was sure Ilya didn’t feel the same things he was feeling.

“Oh, he absolutely does,” Rose insisted. “He literally changed his train seat to sit next to you and he’s getting handsy with you? He wants it.”

“Oh my god…,” Shane grumbled.

“Just ask him out! You don’t have to do anything grand but I bet he’ll say yes.”

—

Shane swore he was on the usual train car. He swept his eyes back and forth down the benches—Ilya should have already been on the train by the time it reached Shane’s station. He wasn’t on a different timetable either. 4:55 PM, same as every day. Ilya was nowhere to be seen.

The sliding doors closed before Shane could exit and try the next car over. He plunked himself down on an empty seat before he would lose his balance when the train lurched forward. It was hard to not be disappointed that the one person he wanted to see was not here. As the gears of his brain started turning, he settled on the assumption that Ilya just got caught up with something at work and didn’t make it out on time. Missing the train was not out of character after all.

Another two weeks went by that found Shane riding the train alone. He always looked for Ilya to step on when the doors opened at Renfrew, and scanned the car at the end of the day when he boarded to head home. One of the mornings he had picked up an extra coffee again but when Ilya wasn’t on his commute, Shane just gave it to Rose when he got to work. She hugged him with a sorry frown.

It got to a point where Shane missed seeing Ilya so much that he began opening his Facebook page day multiple times a day until shame took over and he gruffly closed the tab. Fear started to creep up that he missed his chance to shoot his shot. Yeah, he could message Ilya on Facebook but…. This was something he had been determined to do in person since that day Rose shook the truth out of him.

For the first time, Shane dreaded taking the train. He’d prefer sitting in piles of traffic on Highway 1, he’d take it any day over a train commute without Ilya.

Chapter End Notes

ilya you have to get on the trainnnnnnn

fyi there is no train route to the area of the west end i wanted (the furthest is burrard) so again, we are stretching the real world for the plot. thank you for coming on this journey

also oomf on twitter let me know that there technically is a transfer they should be taking between the millennium and expo line where stadium-chinatown is so just in case anyone familiar with the skytrain system is wondering, i eliminated transfers to help it flow better

Gospodi pomiluj - Lord have mercy

Chapter 3

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya get closer.

Chapter Notes

This chapter uses a work skin!

Ilya stood on the platform of Stadium-Chinatown just before 7:30 AM on a Monday, scrolling on his phone. He had two coffees in one hand, balanced on top of his palm. It was the earliest he’d made it up and out the door in… well, ever. Voluntarily.

He had only ridden the train a little more than a handful of times since he recovered his wallet from Shane, and hadn’t seen him in totality in a couple weeks. Bad timing, snoozed alarms, late days with the shitty design software on his computer that recently liked to crash his device more often than not, it all kept him from making his commute times. Especially after he told Shane on their last morning commute together that he’d see him after work and then never showed. Fed up with it all, left early from a birthday dinner for Bood on Sunday night to go to bed two hours ahead of schedule so he would be awake and alert for an earlier train. He’d have to make it up to Bood but Shane was at the top of his list for redemption. Ilya even took the train to his regular stop so he could hit Breka and snag two drinks. He made it back before he would expect Shane.

In front of him, at 7:52 AM, the Millennium Line train coasted into the station and hissed to a stop. Ilya scanned over the heads in the car and found Shane already standing, waiting for the sliding doors. His jet black bangs were combed loosely to the side and he was looking down at his phone, glasses on. He was in a Canucks-branded sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up. No coffee in hand. The doors slid open and a stream of people poured out. Shane clicked the side of his phone and dropped it into his pocket as he stepped onto the platform.

Ilya placed himself in Shane’s line of sight, planting himself to the tile floor. Shane scanned the walkway ahead and froze when he locked in on Ilya’s form, his face brightening into something spectacular. Ilya was beaming too, it had been too long.

Despite that, Shane walked to him slowly, unsure if maybe Ilya was a mirage, a figment of his imagination after weeks apart.

“You are wearing your glasses,” Ilya commented, smitten. Shane’s mouth made an ‘O’ shape and he started to take them off.

“I just do for reading, mostly. Was reading an article on the train.”

“No, put them back on please,” Ilya said. Shane obliged immediately. “Perfect.” He was so beautiful.

“It’s, um. It’s nice to see you, Ilya,” Shane began, his expression soft. “I kinda… missed you.” Ilya felt his heart hammering out of his chest, but he chuckled.

“Kind of?”

“Fine,” Shane giggled, looking up to the ceiling while his cheeks reddened. His freckles popped amidst the blush, they were a work of art. “I missed you. I was worried you, like, got a different job somewhere else or something.”

“No, still here. Just run late a lot. I missed you too, Shane.” He paused, looking somber. “Can I walk you to work? I got you coffee,” Ilya said, lifting the extra cup in his hand.

“Of course,” Shane said. “Thank you.” His eyes widened when he gratefully took the cup, then closed in delight when he took the first sip. “Fuck that’s good. Glad I forgot mine this morning, then.” Ilya contentedly sipped his own drink too.

The walk was already very brief. Shane practically worked on top of the station entrance, but Ilya noticed the slow pace he was taking to make the walk last longer and was secretly glad for it. They used the time to catch up with each other about their last couple of weeks apart. As their arms swayed, the backs of their hands lightly grazed, enough for Ilya to absorb the spark and light up. Every part of Ilya wanted to reach out and scoop Shane’s palm into his, or at the very least loop their fingers together. Then Shane came to a hard stop and turned to face Ilya when they were outside the Canucks staff entrance.

“You’ll be on the train later?” Shane asked sweetly. “It’s a lot more fun with you.”

“Yes. Promise.” Ilya smiled. “Actually, can I have your number? Then I can warn you if I will not be there. You know, doctor appointment, vacation, and then you will not be so sad.”

“Is that really your attempt to get my number?” Shane laughed genuinely, heartily. “I would have just given it to you, you know. And I’d still be sad anyways.”

“Ah, no, you are too pretty to be sad. We cannot have this. New plan: I will be on train every day, in fact I will live on train. And when people ask ‘Ilya, why do you cancel your appointment? Ilya, why you do not use PTO?’ I will tell them it is because my Shane is very sad without me.” Ilya mimed people talking with his hands as he spoke with a pout and Shane rolled his eyes. They were glittering.

“You’re an asshole,” Shane said through his amused smile.

“Okay so, phone? Give.”

Shane unlocked and handed over his phone, Ilya did the same. They eagerly exchanged numbers and before departing, Shane clinked their coffees together like Ilya had on the train last time.

“See you later, have a good day Ilya,” Shane called after Ilya turned back toward the train station with his bottom lip between his teeth, smiling stupidly. He would hop back on the next available car to go uptown to work.

“Ah, you too, but it will be better at 4:55.” Ilya swiveled toward Shane with a smirk. “I will save you a seat.”

The world around Ilya was sharper, carrying a different energy, now that he had this man’s number saved in his phone. The only other time he had felt this way was taking his last taxi ride to the airport in Moscow when he moved to Canada. It was like the air came to life, like it sensed these new beginnings, these tiny little extraordinary moments, and he breathed a little easier. Anything felt possible.

And Shane had missed him. Shane had been worried about him, concerned that Ilya’s life had changed so drastically that their metro route was no longer shared. That their daily commutes had ceased and Ilya was just a fleeting part of his story, just like every other passenger on the train. Drifting in for a moment and out just as quickly, lives overlapping and getting off at separate stops.

All it was, was a phone number. And it changed everything for Ilya. It seemed like it was just as monumental to Shane.

The metro was humming as Ilya descended the stairs to the platform. He always liked to people-watch other commuters, but now that he got the attention of the one metro rider that really mattered he didn’t care to keep that hobby going. Nobody else would be as kind, as interesting, or as beautiful.

The train rattled to a stop at the West End and Ilya made quick work of getting to his office building. While his computer was coming back to life (even though its quality of life was poor and should be put out of its misery), he opened a new text message. He noticed that Shane put a heart next to his name in the phone.

“Roz, there’s no way you can sit there with the most down bad smile on your face and tell me you’re not flirting with some poor girl,” Cliff boomed from the front desk.

“Yes, I can tell you this and it would be the truth,” Ilya said plainly. “I am talking to a man.”

“Oh hell yeah, Roz! Good for you,” Cliff responded happily. Right away when he started this job, Ilya had been open with the team about why he had abruptly left Russia, because naturally everyone had questions. Sveta assured him they were more than accepting but he had to test it for himself if he was going to stick around. “Where’d you meet?”

“The metro. He found my wallet when I lost it. I like him very much.” Ilya felt a blush wash over his face, for real, and he smiled down at his hands. “And yes, I am blushing, Cliff. This is only time you will ever see this.”

“Right on, man. I won’t tell anyone what I saw.” Cliff smacked his hand twice on Ilya’s desk and winked. He left for the back office where he was reviewing budget reports with Wyatt and Evan. Although Cliff tended to ask the same irritating question over and over until he got an answer, at least he had no mind to prod any further once he was satisfied.

Ilya so badly wanted to pick up his phone and text Shane again, but he chewed his bottom lip and locked in. This project wasn’t going to finish itself.

🚈🚈🚈🚈

“Ohh Breka! You had time to go there this morning?” Rose exclaimed when Shane pushed through the doors to their corridor of offices. “I didn’t think there was one on your way in. I would have had you get me one!”

“Morning to you too, Rose,” Shane drawled. He fished his office key out of his pocket and swung the door open. 

“Morning, Shane,” she answered, feigning annoyance. Shane flipped the light switch on and Rose tailed after him.

“There isn’t one on my way,” Shane offered, finally dropping some bait. He busied himself with setting up his desk for the long day ahead. “It was given to me.”

“Oh?” Her eyes grew ten sizes. “Did Ilya come back from the dead?”

Shane had lamented to Rose when Ilya stopped showing up for the train for a while, finally revealing the name of his crush to her in a moment of despair. She happily sipped the coffee Shane thrust into her hands on that day until she learned the drink was meant for someone else and she finished it less enthusiastically. Shane knew he wasn’t “stood up”, but for arguments’ sake it felt like he had been at the time. Rose, ever the optimist, did her best to convince Shane that there were a hundred different scenarios and reasons why Ilya had been absent from his commute. It helped him feel better for a spell, but then when he was back on the train alone every morning and evening it all came crashing down again.

He wished he had gotten his number sooner, at least he would have been able to reach out and check in. Make sure Ilya was okay.

The fact that he Ilya’s number now was an insane thought.

Rose fell into telling Shane about everything she had to do that day. Rather than actually doing it. She was brainstorming content ideas for the next season, following TikTok trends and Twitter memes and finding fun interactive questions or skits for the team. Her office had become a war zone, walls littered with post-its she jotted down any thought that passed through her mind on, scrap papers with more scribbled notes, inspo screenshots from other teams and other sports leagues printed out and thumbtacked to every cork board she had. The process was sending her headfirst into a wall to where she needed to walk away for a bit, but the tasks still loomed.

Just after explaining a viral audio clip she wanted some players to lip-sync next year, Shane’s phone buzzed on the desk.

“Is that him?” Rose inquired, the opposite of nonchalantly. Very much not calm, cool, and collected. She gripped the front of Shane’s desk and peered over the top of his phone to be nosy. “What did he say?”

“‘Testing’,” Shane said, puzzled. Rose barked out a laugh.

“What does that mean? You guys literally traded phones.”

Shane typed a quick message into his screen and waited. It buzzed within seconds. Rose whirled around to the back of Shane’s desk to look over his shoulder. He turned in his chair to shield his screen from her.

“Come on!” Rose complained. “At least tell me.” Shane swatted her away lazily and continued typing, locked in on his screen, a somewhat intense look washed across his face.

A few messages later a grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Okay if there’s a reason you’re smiling like an idiot and not telling me what’s going on I have to assume you’re sexting.”

“Shut up!” He blushed and dropped the phone screen-down on the desk. “He told me to stop texting him. I was distracting from his work.”

“He texted you first!”

“I know!”

“Oh he likes you.” She peered down at Shane, a knowing look on her face. “I’ll leave you alone for now but I want updates when you finally ask him out! And I need to see this guy, see what the hype’s about.”

“Whatever.” Rose tossed her auburn hair behind her shoulder and left the office, humming in satisfaction.

A little while later, Shane received an email from Rose. On the subject line, “You”. He opened it. The only content in the message body was the Brooklyn 99 meme where one of the characters is holding a puppy. She customized a fucking meme. The text read “I’ve only had Ilya for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in the room and then myself”. She wrote “Ilya” over the face of the puppy, and “Shane” over the face of the character. Leave it to social media. She really was fed up with doing her own work. Shane replied “Lol”.

The workday, for the first time in weeks, was pleasant for Shane. He was productive, he could concentrate, his mood was up. He conquered everything on his to-do list and even got ahead of the game. There was a big, handsome, Russian reason for that. Really good stuff for a Monday.

As Shane was packing up, his phone buzzed repetitively on top of the desk, screen coming to life.

Shane’s heart jumped from Ilya’s final emojis. The guy was a window, giving Shane access to his feelings through those goofy little symbols. Shane should be so upfront. Years of struggling to flirt with and date women had sent him straight to panic by default whenever he tried to express himself.

But this was Ilya. This was different.

Fuck that.

Yeah, it was corny. It made Shane giddy. He realized then that he hadn’t actually said the words to Ilya, only indirectly through things like the last text he sent and a couple of emojis. So he unlocked his phone and added:

Now he had time to kill. He didn’t know how long. Getting himself involved in something was kind of out of the question. He could take a long walk around the city, or pop into some stores downtown, but he didn’t want to get caught too far away from the train line if Ilya said he’d be ready soon.

Ilya surprised him at his own train stop this morning. Shane could return the favor. He locked up and darted out before Rose could hold him up with her probable laundry list of questions. She had all day to think of ways to extract information from Shane. He didn’t want to know what she came up with.

Waiting at the opposite side of the train platform after work was weird. Shane hardly had reason to go uptown most of the time. The ride was quick to the West End, and off the train he parked himself on a bench in the concourse. Shane’s phone only had one measly bar of signal underground; he hoped he’d be able to get the text when Ilya got here. He watched the droves of people milling about the terminal, some coming some going. Everyone here for a purpose. Heading home, starting the evening shift, going out for dinner. Meeting a loved one.

Perhaps he had descended into a bit of a daydream, because after who knows how long a shadow flashed through his peripheral. Shane straightened up in his seat and looked to his left where it had come from. Instantly, he was beaming.

“Hi Shane,” Ilya said. His dopey grin was too much. “I was not expecting to see you here.”

“At the train station?” Shane joked. After all, it was pretty much the only place they’d ever seen each other.

“Not this one,” Ilya answered. “Unless arena grew legs and walked uptown.” Shane chuckled.

“I wanted to take the long way home,” Shane said, focusing on Ilya’s eyes and the way they shifted between his. “And there’s someone I want to sit next to on the way.” Ilya’s expression softened.

“Yes, same. I think my seat buddy will be here soon so we’ll talk later, yes? I do not want them to think I found someone better.” Ilya said, squinting his eyes like he was looking far in the distance. Shane froze a bit, falling for it until Ilya stood up and extended his hand out to him. “Oh, wait I think he is here now.”

Shane bit his lower lip to stop from grinning like an idiot. “You’re an asshole.”

“Well, come on! Train will not wait for us.”

Shane took his hand and hoisted himself off the bench. Ilya didn’t let go. He gave it a squeeze and tugged Shane along to two waiting seats on the the train.

Every part of Shane sparked to life.

🚈🚈🚈🚈

The train ride home was everything Ilya had been longing for. After a frustrating series of hiccups, he made the decision to change his own life instead of waiting for life to change for him and stand himself in front of Shane, not to be missed again—and it paid off. Shane boarded the car with him, hand in hand, tucked together on the plastic seats. For a moment Ilya was lost for words and just soaked in the warmth of Shane’s body. The train was starting to become stuffier already from the transition into warmer spring weather outside, combined with the body heat of everyone around them, but Ilya had never been more comfortable.

The curve of Ilya’s hand molded perfectly to the plane of Shane’s leg. He had it all to himself for an extra ten minutes because of Shane’s surprise route change. An extra ten minutes of Shane’s laughter ringing through the noise of the train, his eyes sparkling under the fluorescent runner lights on the ceiling, outshining every other passenger in the carriage, his nose scrunching and looking impossibly even more beautiful, freckles dancing across his cheeks. He was perfect.

Ilya kicked himself for letting all those weeks go by and doing nothing but steal glances at this man from across an aisle. He could have had this the whole damn time.

The Renfrew station came too soon anyways and Ilya pried himself from the seat, watching from the platform as Shane waved and the train rolled onward.

His phone was heavy in his hand while leftover pasta warmed in the microwave for dinner. Shane was due to message him when he made it home. Curiously his phone rang rather than sound a text alert. He flipped the screen over: Svetlana. Grumbling, he accepted the call.

“Ilyusha!”

“Sveta?” he answered irritably.

“You’ve hardly seen me in nearly a month and this is how you greet me?”

“I was waiting for a message. I thought this would be them.” Ilya wedged the phone in the crevice of his neck and pulled his dinner from the appliance. When he checked it was hot enough, he dumped a pile of parmesan on the top and grabbed a fork.

“From who?”

“A new friend of mine. That’s all I will say. What are you calling about?”

“Wow,” Svetlana laughed through the line. “Ilyusha you must be smitten with whoever this is. You never keep secrets from me.”

“Maybe.” He bit back a grin. “I do miss you though.”

“There, was that so hard? So I am working from the office for the rest of the week. Our other permits got delayed and the contractors can’t continue until we have them. There’s always some bullshit. Anyways, I will come pick you up in the morning just like old times!”

Ilya’s stomach lurched. While Svetlana did buy him the metro pass and he felt a certain obligation to give her some of his time as repayment (which wouldn’t be nearly enough to thank her), he couldn’t pass on commuting with Shane. Especially not after Ilya just re-entered his orbit and things looked to have potential to go somewhere. Ilya would have to make it up to her some other time. Definitely not on a work day. Because, you know. He was silent for about a minute. 

“Ilyusha, did the call drop?”

“No… I am here.”

“So I am picking you up tomorrow?”

“Sveta, I think- I am going to take the metro.”

“You’re kidding. You would rather take the train than ride in a nice car with your best friend?”

“Sveta…,” Ilya sighed heavily. He popped a small bite of rapidly cooling pasta into his mouth. There was only so much he could omit from the conversation without Svetlana taking it personally. “My friend takes the train, I would like to ride with him. And you and I, we will hang out in the office when I get there. I will buy you lunch, yes?” That should appease her, he hoped.

“Ah, so this is the friend you speak of so elusively? I understand, Ilyusha. I’m chopped liver now compared to him.”

“No, you are not, Sveta,” Ilya defended with a laugh. “You know you are the most important person to me. But your throne may be stolen very soon. I like him a lot,” he added in good humor. Svetlana barked out a laugh on the other end.

“Okay, see you tomorrow Ilyusha.”

Several messages from Shane were waiting when the call disconnected.

Shane was settled on the train, juggling two coffees and his work bag when Ilya stepped on the next morning. His smile was a little bigger yet—radiant—seeing Ilya actually make the train. Like yesterday had been somewhat of a dream, too good to be true. He looked too damn good for someone going to work, hiding away in an office all day. Warmer mid-spring temperatures meant ditching sweaters for shorter sleeves, and Ilya was delighted by the sight of the toned arms sticking out of Shane’s Canucks-branded polo. Shane’s legs were hidden by dark wash jeans but Ilya could imagine what was underneath. Ilya wore his own company polo and cropped khakis. It looked like Shane was checking him out as he approached.

After Ilya sat by his side, Shane offered the extra beverage. Ilya rearranged himself with his own work bag and slung an arm over Shane’s shoulders. Shane took that as an invitation to cozy up exceptionally closer to Ilya, whose insides were rampant with thrilling roller coaster flips.

Sipping coffee on the morning train next to Shane—with someone like Shane in his arms—while the sun came up was never in Ilya’s wildest dreams when he moved to Canada. Svetlana had unassumingly given him the greatest gift with this metro pass, and he would make it worth every penny for as long as Shane would be on the metro with him (even if the penny was out of commission).

The announcement sounded for the upcoming stop at Stadium-Chinatown. Other commuters for this stop began to stir, gathering their belongings and putting phones in pockets. Shane arranged his work bag and threw the strap over his shoulder. Ilya felt its leather belt graze the top of his fingers where they dangled over Shane’s chest. He slung his own bag onto his shoulder, which drew a confused hum out of Shane.

“Are you getting off here?” Shane inquired. He adjusted the strap on his shoulder and his fingers brushed Ilya’s.

“Da, yes. I will walk you. Is okay?”

“I mean, of course it is. But you have to get to work too.” Shane looked conflicted. His expressive brown boba eyes gleamed while the train rattled along the underground track, the safety lights on the cement walls of the tunnel lighting him up one by one as they flew by. The tunnel quickly opened up into the larger concourse and loading platform, the carriage slowing with a muffled screech.

“If entire company burns down because I am five minutes late, then they were running company very wrong,” Ilya assured lightheartedly. That brought the smile back to Shane’s devastatingly pretty face, which in turn drew a very soft one out of Ilya. “Plus you one up me with coffee, so I must get even.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“Ah, but you see it is. Same thing happened yesterday, no? You said this,” and Ilya whipped out his phone, going into their texts from the night before. ““Level the playing field”. I have, what you call, receipts?” Shane laughed out loud.

“You’re annoying.” He did not mean it in the slightest.

At that, the doors parted and Shane and Ilya followed the steady stream of people off the train, fighting somewhat through a few people on the platform who insisted they get on right this second before everyone leaving could go.  Ilya wrapped a hand around Shane’s bicep to stick together until the crowd dispersed to different stairwells and elevators.

The morning sun cast bright, stark shadows over Rogers Arena. Shane’s workplace was dwarfed by the much larger soccer field next door, which painted much of the street in darkness. The two hopped up on the sidewalk near the Canucks staff door.

“I guess we’re even now,” Shane began. He shuffled his feet on the cement walk.

“Da. But I will be ahead again soon.”

“Whatever you say.” Shane laughed. “I got lucky, getting you on the train two days in a row.”

“Same.”

They stood awkwardly, neither knowing what to say next because after everything the could say, eventually they would get to ‘goodbye’. Ilya wished he could have five more minutes to succeed every other five more minutes he was starting to long for. A never-ending stream of ‘five more minutes’ with Shane. Ilya was becoming somewhat of a glutton.

“Have a good day, and I will see you later?” Ilya asked, like he had to double-check Shane’s plans to get home. In case anything changed.

“You too, Ilya. And you will see me later,” Shane confirmed.

“Not soon enough,” Ilya mimicked from their texts.

“Not soon enough.”

Ilya clasped onto Shane’s wrist and stepped closer. He planted a kiss on Shane’s cheek.

“Bye,” Ilya said, just above a whisper. When he backed up a few steps to leave, Shane’s jaw hung open slightly, his eyes hooded, expression drunk. Their fingertips brushed as Ilya let go, sparking with such an intensity in the brief contact that they could have powered the city.

Ilya got his one-up on Shane.

He couldn’t look back after he started his trek back to the metro. If he did, Shane would no doubt be late for work, too.

Finally and successfully uptown, Ilya toyed with his lower lip as he jaywalked to his office building where Svetlana was waiting for him. He tried to put on his usual stoic front, but feeling Shane’s soft skin against his mouth less than a half hour ago was twisting him into some lover boy nobody apparently recognized. Svetlana called him out on it immediately, letting the whole office in on Ilya’s massive anonymous crush.

“You look like that and you only kissed his cheek?” Troy said, both amused and perplexed.

“He is so gone,” Bood added.

“Man, Roz, if he’s someone special, don’t let him go,” Cliff chimed in. Svetlana was slouched over her desk giggling, watching Ilya’s blush redden into a fire.

“I have big project, deadline is soon,” Ilya deflected, shielding his face by spinning around to look for something in his file cabinet. “Please let me work.” Cliff clapped once, loudly.

“Alright, folks, let’s all be productive today.” He winked at Ilya once the rest groaned and busied themselves. Ilya glanced back and nodded a silent thank you.

They weren’t being obnoxious about it by any means. His colleagues were harmless. Ilya just really needed to focus on something that was not Shane to make it until the late afternoon.

Chapter End Notes

Italics between Ilya and Svetlana again are them speaking Russian :)

I went through hell and back trying to code these text messages because they kept sizing up looking like a damn ipad. Shane and Ilya are NOT ipad kids please kindly stop messing with me, codes

Chapter 4

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya go on a date <3

Chapter Notes

This chapter uses a work skin!

This is my longest chapter so far, I have been trying to keep these short and sweet but I can never write enough words about these two:)

Shane let a teeth-clattering shiver loose at the phantom mark of Ilya’s lips that remained on his cheek like a brand from a hot iron. They had brushed over his peach fuzz and despite the rising spring-into-summer temperatures it shot tremors through his limbs like the air was below freezing. And then Ilya had whispered “bye” and waltzed back toward the metro, leaving him paralyzed with… whatever this feeling was. Fluttery. Dizzy. Floaty.

Abandoned on the sidewalk by the hottest man in Vancouver- no, in Canada. No, in the world. Not really abandoned though, because Ilya had responsibilities to be (semi) timely for. He did need to get going. As did Shane. Ilya had just… walked away, so cooly after pulling a stunt like that, like an action movie star striding away confidently as a bomb detonated behind them.

Once Shane came to, it hit him that he now had to get inside and start his day. However that would be possible.

The hallways inside were dim and quiet. During the offseason, there were always less people around unless they were meeting in the conference room and preparing for the combine or the draft over the summer. Some staff opted to work from home. Or, if the arena was hosting some other event, the building would come alive again in the days ahead to get everything ready. Shane preferred keeping home and work to separate spaces, so he continued to come in. And he liked taking the train. Particularly in recent months, he loved taking the train.

The mostly empty offices also meant that few people were here to witness his crisis post-Ilya Rozanov cheek kiss. Shane set his coffee on his desk and dropped his computer bag to the floor. He sank into his chair, hand raised to hover over the spot on his cheek and stared absently at the black computer monitor in front of him. He didn’t dare to actually touch his cheek for fear of losing memory of Ilya’s velvety lips on that patch of skin. Shane was feeling insane about it.

Rose entered his office—ten minutes? Two? Thirty? An hour later?—with a knowing grin plastered to her face. She looked like she had secrets. She definitely had secrets. Shane was confident it was news about Hayden and his relentless quest to get Jackie interested in him. He hadn’t seen Hayden since the week before to get any updates, so yeah, maybe Rose knew something.

It wasn’t until Rose squealed in delight that Shane withdrew from his spaced out state. He cleared his throat and corrected his posture, awaiting her story or whatever it was that brought her in here. His mind hadn’t fully left the sidewalk outside yet.

“Soooo…,” she began, loaded with intrigue. “How was your morning?”

Shane was still so out of himself, oblivious that her tone was poking at him. He thought she was just beginning a morning chat before diving into the good stuff.

“It was fine, I don’t know. Did my run, got coffee. You?” Rose leapt over his response, nothing but a hurdle in her way to the finish line.

“Your man is dropping you off at work now?” Her Cheshire cat smile stretched further across her face. Shane blinked harshly and furrowed his brow, eyes lifting to meet hers.

“Wait you saw that?” Shane asked, flummoxed. His voice pitched higher at the end.

“I mean, not on purpose! I was walking upstairs and passed the windows that look over the staff entrance, and…,” she explained. “And I saw two people. One looked like you, so I wanted to see if it was. It’s not like you were doing anything scandalous!”

“Uh-huh.” Shane couldn’t mask his pink cheeks as he visualized Ilya leaning into him again. Couldn’t bite back his smile this time. “Sure. I know you were chomping at the bit to get a glimpse. You haven’t been very subtle.”

“Well, anyways,” Rose continued, “I noticed you didn’t deny he was your man. If that’s Ilya, you hit the fucking jackpot. Are you… together?”

Shane didn’t need to contemplate her question for long because the answer was simple.

“No. We’re just-”

“Lovers?” Rose interrupted.

“God, no! Jesus, Rose. That’s gross,” Shane blurted. “We just started texting, talking on the train. Getting closer, I guess.” He pulled on his eyebrow as an idle, nervous response and rolled the hair that came out between his fingers.

“You both looked pretty close when he was planting one on you.” Rose reached a hand through the gap below Shane’s computer monitor and gave his hand a squeeze after he lowered his forehead onto the desktop. “Look, you obviously like him, if the way you act about him is any clue. You need to just listen to me, because I’m smart, and go for it. But more importantly, I just wanted to gloat that I finally saw THE Ilya Rozanov.”

“Go back to your office, Rose,” Shane said without any bite. Rose’s grinned softened as she stood up. They exchanged a telling look before she turned mischievous again.

“And one more thing: I watched THE Ilya Rozanov plant a big juicy SMOOCH on my shy little Shane’s cheek!” Shane crumpled a scrap paper from his desktop and threw it at her in one swift motion.

“Get the hell out of here!” And Shane was laughing, good and heartily.

He opened his phone.

Shane really let his head slam down on the desk this time. He took a few more deep steadying breaths, Ilya’s voice appearing in his head with the same instruction he sent over text, before lifting his phone again to type.

Shane had no reason to get worked up over this friend of Ilya’s. He thought he would take a leap and see if Ilya wanted to spend time beyond their commute together. And just because Ilya was busy tonight didn’t mean he was turning Shane down. The beginning of their exchange had tickled him, so it just dampened the high he was riding a little bit. He had to remind himself that Ilya was still very interested in him. Shane read back in the messages to Ilya’s offer to kiss him, to really kiss him, and basically “court” him to win his favor (although he already had it if you asked Shane) and felt… better. That, at least, was the work-friendly way to describe it.

The workday was slow, only one small pocket of time to look forward to before his night staying in. With normally all the patience in the world, now that Ilya revealed his intentions Shane found himself begging time to move along so he could get there. However many hours, days, weeks, months it would take. Hopefully Ilya’s touch, pressed up against him on the train later, would be enough to satiate him. There was nothing like it that Shane had experienced before, and he could only dream of what a kiss would do to him. He hadn’t gotten even close to that kind of high with the girls in his past.

Thinking back, perhaps Shane had not been nervous to move across the country from his tiny hometown outside of Ottawa to the should-be-frightening big city of Vancouver, because a part deep within him knew something good was waiting for him. Something—or someone, rather—with a less conventional entrance into his life that you usually only see in movies, for the plot. Girl drops keys (in this case, boy with wallet), boy picks keys up and runs after girl to give keys back, touching hands and falling in love at first sight. This wasn’t the movies, and falling in love worked a little differently most of the time, but the sparks were there from the fade-in of their opening scene and were more noticeable as time went on and more frequent. Shane realized then that he didn’t want the time to rush ahead. Movies were always too short, and he wanted every moment until their end credits to last, the sands of time, of their story, to drip leisurely like molasses instead of fitting all the good parts into a brief hour and a half montage.

Was Shane falling in love? Maybe it was too soon for him to really tell, but it felt a lot like it.

🚈🚈🚈🚈

The week at work had tested Ilya. Pushed him to his absolute limit. His computer was fighting him, Svetlana—being back in the office (albeit temporarily)—kept distracting him, and he was tiring of the projects assigned to him. There was no challenge, other than the computer itself taking a shit every other hour, but it was all the company was giving him for now, treating it like an extended probationary period. He was hoping to talk to Cliff soon about shadowing Troy, if any opportunities were available to become a leasing agent, or literally anything else. After so many times of restarting his computer he ran out of patience. He was getting nothing done.

At the end of each day Ilya tried to take his best mood back to the metro. Shane lifted his spirits naturally, but he didn’t want to bring his work troubles out of the office to begin with. Walking to the station in the sun and fresh air (as fresh as a city could provide) helped that transition, and any remaining stress melted away at the sight of scrunched up freckles and a smile as soon as they stepped onboard. The two had hit their stride and made the train every day of the week together—a new personal best—which meant Ilya had more reasons to smile at the beginning and end of the day.

On Friday, Ilya held it together as long as he possibly could. His computer conked out and force shut down when he was trying to do a backup of his files, and it wiped his entire day of progress, he had come to find out when it powered back on. Too many hours, just gone. Cliff was busy and Bood was out of the office, and he wasn’t positive he could talk to any person directly without losing his composure. He sent both of his superiors an email kindly requesting a new device or to have IT come and do some serious overhaul on the outdated system.

Clocking out couldn’t come soon enough. The rest of the office had emptied out for the most part, only Evan was still in the back somewhere and Wyatt was due to return to log the completed daily maintenance tickets from him and his team. Ilya was so mentally drained when he finally escaped that he almost got clipped by a bicyclist while crossing the street and, honest to god, thought he didn’t have his wallet on him for a moment. Very fortunately, he located it in the pocket of his blazer before he got too far.

The moment Ilya dropped onto the seat of the train car, he loosened his bowtie and threaded a hand through his hair, spraying his mop of curls every which way. A frustrated sigh streamed from his lips, trying to level himself out before the train would stop at Chinatown. The chatter of the other riders was almost welcoming compared to the treacherous quiet of the property management office. Although there was only one voice Ilya wanted to hear.

Shane must have been reading something on his phone while waiting for the train because his glasses were on when he stepped into the carriage. His soft, cheery face faded when he saw the state of Ilya sitting there and rushed to sit beside him. Ilya must have looked particularly concerningly disheveled, to match his inner turmoil. Throwing his bag down between their feet, Shane cupped a hand on Ilya’s cheek and the other raised up to push back a few ringlets of hair into order. Ilya stared down at the floor of the train.

“Hey, are you okay?” Shane asked calmly, edges laced with worry. Ilya could feel his eyes on him.

“Yes, but no,” Ilya responded after a few seconds of pause. “Just….”

“Rough day?”

“That is putting it mild,” Ilya said.

“Was it work? You want to talk about it?” Ilya nodded and followed it with a shake of his head. Shane nodded back even though Ilya still wasn’t looking at him.

At the bottom of his sightline, Ilya caught Shane’s hand slide in to hold his, and gave it a comforting squeeze. He cozied up to Ilya’s side and sat quietly, checking frequently that he was good with another brief squeeze. Eventually Shane pulled Ilya’s hand into his lap and clasped it with both of his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Ilya’s head tilted and came to rest on Shane’s shoulder.

He heard Shane hum, and then a soft kiss was placed at the crown of Ilya’s head.

Halfway to Renfrew, Ilya decided he had no reason to mope any longer, not when Shane was here, not when Shane was giving exactly what he needed, which was just himself. There were probably things Shane wanted to talk about from his day but he put that on hold just to be present and unwavering in the company of Ilya’s troubles. To make sure Ilya left the train in better spirits than he’d arrived on it.

It felt silly, to be so worked up about work, about a job he didn’t really like so much but took because he had an in and it was convenient. Then again, the struggles may have very well been worth it because of what he had gained outside of its walls, on the commuter train that fell along the same route of someone very important to him. Someday, when his work experience had some meat on its bones, he’d like to look for something else, as long as he didn’t have to deviate his route. But that was neither here nor there at present.

Sitting here with Shane beside him was a one in a million chance he got and really he wouldn’t change a thing. He wouldn’t go back and trade a shitty job and a shittier computer for anything else because he may have missed this very thing that became the best parts of his day. Now the time with Shane stretched a little wider since they’d started texting. It was time he moved it beyond that, even. Time he expanded the boundaries of Shane’s presence in his life.

Ilya picked his head up from Shane’s shoulder and finally looked over to him. He found a fragile smile and worried eyes staring back at him.

“You finally give me kiss,” Ilya said gently. “Now we are even again my Shanya.” Shane laughed bashfully and the worry drained from his eyes in exchange for his usual sparkle.

“Do you feel better, then?”

“Da. I do. Thank you.”

“You should get your mind off work,” Shane began. He closed his eyes, taking a deep settling breath. When they opened again, he was locked in on Ilya and turned soft and sincere. “Do you want to go out tonight? …With me? We could just take a walk, get dinner, I don’t know. Anything you want.”

Ilya’s smile took over his entire face. The world stopped at the edges of Shane’s bright and hopeful expression, the natural commotion of the train ceasing to exist outside of the two of them. He and Shane could have been the only people on that train car for all he knew.

“You are asking me out, Shanya?”

“Yeah, I- kinda, I guess,” Shane bumbled nervously. Ilya raised an eyebrow. Then, Shane continued more confidently, “No, I am. I want to take you out. If you want.”

“Yes, I want. If I recall though, I was supposed to be doing the sweeping off your feet,” Ilya joked. His heart was swimming in his throat though, he could not believe this was finally happening.

“Guess you have to catch up then. Luckily you have the rest of the night.”

Ilya chuckled and extracted his hand from Shane’s to wrap tighter around the man’s shoulders, pulling him close. He pursed his lips to kiss Shane’s temple, inhaling the scent of eucalyptus in his hair, and it was everything.

Ilya never had the energy to make it the waterfront in the city since moving to Vancouver. When he was fresh off the plane from Moscow, every announcement and piece of signage spoken and written in English was overwhelming to the near point of tears, and he was lucky to have Svetlana around to drive him to work at the start. He would not have been able to navigate the metro on his own back then. But then he was so exhausted getting home from work every day that he didn’t feel like leaving his apartment again to go explore anything.

He always thought that being at the water’s edge was serene, easy. There was no pressure just to bask in front of the smooth surface of the ocean or the harbor or wherever he found himself in his youth, at the grandness and vastness of it, the breeze dancing through his curls, weaving through his limbs as he stood on the shore. Sea birds circling overhead, occasionally a fish disrupting the calm as it surfaced with a muted whoosh, the lapping of the small tide at his feet.

It’s where he chose to go with Shane that evening. He understood that the waterfront in a city would sound somewhat different than the scenes he could picture from his childhood going to the seaside. The area surrounding this harbor would have constant traffic noise, sea planes, boats, people and other activity everywhere, but none of that would even matter because he would be there with Shane. So they planned to walk, take in the sights aboveground for a change, find somewhere to have dinner.

Shane had been keeping him updated at home, planning their departures so Shane would leave his condo first and Ilya would head out shortly after. They’d meet up around the same time at Renfrew with this strategy, and Shane would wait at the station until Ilya made it there.

Ilya changed into a black v-neck and jeans, maybe to show off a little of his chest and his shiny gold necklace maybe to draw Shane’s eyes down to see the chest he was showing off. He did work hard for his body, and the sculpted lines of his pecs weren’t going to look at themselves. Shane had eyes, and judging by Ilya’s first-hand witness to how Shane looked at him in just his work clothes, he’d probably like it. He tamed his curls just enough to look put-together and headed out the door, locking up behind him.

The walk back to the station took about 10 minutes, and in that time Ilya worked himself up to feeling so buoyant and fluttery he thought he might lift off the ground like the house from Up. He was going on a date with Shane Hollander, his knight in shining armor who appeared at one of his darkest hours, who saved him from almost certain legal trouble should literally anyone else have found his wallet, the face that he pictured when he closed his eyes and the person he found himself craving more and more with every passing commute together. It was only fitting that their first date would involve the metro (as long as they overlooked the fact that neither had their own car as an option anyways). If anything, riding the train would be more intimate, Ilya thought, neither needing to pay attention to traffic or the lines on the road, they could just cozy up to each other and never look away if that’s what they wanted.

Sure as the sun, Shane was standing near the back of the platform when Ilya got into the terminal. He was looking down at his phone, also changed out of work attire in favor of dark jeans, a snug white scoop-neck tee and a tan leather jacket. His hair wasn’t styled any differently, still combed neatly and bangs floating above his forehead. He looked so fucking good. Ilya texted him while he was still a good distance away and Shane hadn’t looked up yet.

Shane’s head whipped up so fast he was surprised he didn’t hear bones crack. His eyes swept the vicinity and Ilya realized this wasn’t his regular stop, he didn’t know where Ilya entered from. When his search drifted back over near Ilya, they locked in on each other and Ilya gave a wave. Shane’s face exploded with glee, his eyes raking down Ilya’s figure until his jaw hung slack. He paced quickly toward Ilya.

“Shit, Ilya, you look fucking amazing.” Shane was beside himself, taking in everything Ilya had banked on when he put on this very shirt. Ilya looked to the ground sheepishly from the compliment before lifting his gaze back to Shane.

“You look really good too, Shane. Fuck. This is what I am missing when you wear baggy Canucks zip-up and polo?” Ilya looped a hand around Shane’s waist and pulled him close for a kiss on the temple.

“Jesus, I could say the same about you,” Shane said. He trailed a finger up Ilya’s side, setting him ablaze, almost afraid to touch him but needing to at the same time. “But this is weird, huh? To be out here, not going to work for a change?”

“Yes, is different. But I like it. I am very glad to be here with you.” Ilya reached a hand out just as the next inbound train was arriving. Shane took hold of it. “Should we go?”

The carriage was sparsely occupied compared to the peak commuting hours they were used to. They easily found seats side by side and sat for the train to depart. Ilya pulled Shane’s hand into his lap, wrapping it up in both of his like Shane had done for him earlier. Neither could take their eyes off each other, neither could stop smiling, neither cared much for personal space, their bodies pressed to each other despite the extra room in the car.

When the train stopped at Granville, the two exited and made their way to street-level. The evening sun streaked between the buildings, a light wind coasting through the streets, picking up at their backs. The waterfront was only a few blocks away.

“Will you be too warm? With your coat?,” Ilya asked as they went along at a steady pace. “Is nice out, like 19 degrees right now.”

“I thought it might get breezier by the water, it’s just in case I get a chill.”

At crosswalks they waited for the signals to change, toying with the fingers of the other, chatting easily. Shane eventually took his coat off when the sun hit them past the cutaway of city structures. Ilya offered to take it, part of his gentlemanly duties, and draped it over his arm. The air temperature definitely felt warmer than what the actual reading was, and it could have also been due to their closeness, keeping them more than comfortable.

They decided to lap around Canada Place, catching the tail end of a ship gliding in the harbor beyond Stanley Park, headed to the ocean. The mountains across the harbor were aglow, capped by massive puffy clouds, and the walk didn’t last very long at all. Shane stopped at the end of the pier and stared out at the water.

“Do you like Vancouver so far?” Shane asked. He leaned on the pier railing facing Ilya, who pulled up alongside him.

“Is nice enough. Better than Moscow.” Ilya studied the ripples in the water, eyes narrowing and melancholy. Shane took his hand again, linking their fingers together.

“What made you leave?”

“Mmh, my father. He wanted me to follow in his steps, and my brother’s. To join Russian police. It is a coward’s job centered around cruelty, hateful laws made by weak men there.” Ilya sighed. “I did not want that. I got out before he could confiscate my passport.

“And me being… me,” Ilya said, gesturing to himself vaguely, “I was not safe there. In Russia… they do not like anything but man and woman together-”

“Being gay,” Shane finished.

“Bisexual, for me. But, yes. They do not view those any differently.” Ilya looked down at their joined hands.

“Were you ever in any danger?”

“No, but even without control of my father, I think sexuality… um… when it is not fair,” he struggled to find the word he needed.

“Discrimination?” Shane offered.

“Yes, that. Even with that alone I think I would have left. Maybe not so soon, but eventually.”

“Do you miss it there?”

“Only pieces. I always like the old palaces, the cathedral. Very fancy buildings, in many colors. And my mother, I would visit her often, and I cannot do that anymore.” Ilya’s lips tightened, his jaw tensed. Shane noticed and stepped closer.

“Did your mother live close to you?”

“Well-,” Ilya started. Just the thought hurt, the idea of never sitting at his mother’s grave again, never talking to her while he could feel her presence there anymore. It still wounded him deeply, only a several months removed from the final visit of his life. His lip trembled, and he tried to focus on the water ahead but a tear pooled and spilled down his cheek. It glittered as it streaked along his face in the golden light of the evening sun.

“Hey, I’m sorry… you don’t have to answer that,” Shane said softly and suddenly, realizing the words that could come next. He brushed away Ilya’s tear with his free thumb. “I didn’t know… I’m sorry.” Ilya picked up the cross pendant on his necklace and rubbed it between his fingers.

“Is okay.”

“You know, this was supposed to be a fun night and I ruined it with all these dark questions,” Shane half-joked, trying to lighten the mood but clearly feeling remorse for the nature of his questions, though they were born innocently of a genuine curiosity. Ilya let out a wet laugh and sniffled. He held Shane close with an arm wrapped around his hip.

“Yes, you make me cry on first date, I cannot believe this! So mean,” Ilya said dramatically. Shane chuckled and lightly shoved his shoulder. “Another day, I will tell you about my mother. I want to know about you, my Shanya.”

“Let’s keep walking. Ask me anything,” Shane said. Ilya lifted his hand up and kissed his knuckles as they turned back.

Ilya wanted to know about Shane’s childhood, for a start. Where he grew up, the places he liked to ride his bike to, the ponds his dad took him fishing at, what his parents liked to make for family dinners. Found out he liked hockey a lot, since he was old enough to walk and have skates put on, but playing was only for fun and he always focused on his studies. Yes, the pay of a professional athlete would have been nice if he was good enough and took it seriously and made it to the big leagues, but he didn’t care for the idea of traveling half the year and never getting fully settled somewhere. He got into music a little in school and played the French horn, because playing music was proven to benefit the body and mind among other things, and it was a good challenge to level up to more advanced pieces of music. He had good, supportive parents the whole way that let him take charge of his interests as long as he committed and wasn’t wishy washy. Only once he had quit at something because it made him so miserable he would get panic attacks, when he tried to join his local scout troop and the kids were cruel to him at an overnight weekend camp simply for being half Japanese. He came away from it stronger, after he worked through the insecurities that had been loosely embedded by hurtful words, easy enough to pluck away over time, and was instilled in him to be proud of his heritage and ethnicity.

Shane checked his watch after a while of wandering along the harbor walk. The sun was starting to hide in the pines of Stanley Park, the heat in the air fading but not between the two men.

“Let’s go get dinner?”

It became apparent that Shane had somewhere in mind. He led Ilya back into the city streets, guiding him from one block to the next with a sureness that let Ilya know he wasn’t hoping to just casually stumble upon just any random eatery. They landed outside a building that had a sculpture of a cow hovering over the entrance. Shane opened the door for Ilya and then rushed ahead to the host stand, and they were soon sat at a table for two. The waiter came and went with some ice waters.

The menu unfolded to a selection of beers, cocktails, and upscale pub items. Ilya wasn’t sure if any pub food qualified as upscale but it seemed fancy compared to the places he usually went out to eat, on the rare occasion he did.

“I made us a reservation when I was still at home,” Shane mentioned. “Get anything you want.”

🚈🚈🚈🚈

Across the table, Ilya sifted through the menu, seemingly indecisive. Shane told him he could order whatever he wanted, he wondered if Ilya didn’t like what they served or if he just hadn’t expected Shane to take care of it. Maybe he should have asked Ilya what he liked before he booked the restaurant, to be fair. Ilya sprawled out under the table and worried his top lip between his teeth as he pondered the options and Shane grew antsy.

He should try to break the ice. For the first time since before the lost wallet, he felt like there was ice.

“What looks good to you?” Shane asked. He flicked his gaze up to Ilya curiously.

“You, but is not listed anywhere on this,” Ilya cracked, grinning, pointing in a faux exasperation at the inside of the menu.

“Stop, you’re so corny,” Shane huffed, grinning back. Admittedly and secretly it did make his stomach flip. “I’m being serious.”

“Ah, I think steak is nice, maybe kimchi pizza.”

“Yeah, the pizza actually looks really good. Do you want to do the kimchi and another one? Then we could try some of each.”

“I would do that. You want to pick the other? I think I would like any, honestly,” Ilya said as he scanned down the other pizzas on the list.

“How about the goat cheese one? Or the regular, the margherita one?”

“Hollander, margherita? Most boring kind?” Ilya teased.

“In defense of myself, you said you’d eat any of them!”

The waiter came back as they were in their tennis match of teasing each other about pizza toppings. In the end, Ilya happily agreed that the margherita pizza sounded great. Shane made sure Ilya got exactly whatever else he wanted too without guilt that he was footing the bill. Shane assured him that everything was his treat tonight.

A couple of beers were set in front of them, along with a dish of calamari to split before the pizzas.

“Can I ask you something? May be personal so is okay if you do not want to answer.” Ilya looked shy, unsure across the table.

“Yeah, no go ahead. I said you can ask me anything.”

“So, what was it like when you came out?” Ilya asked. Shane pursed his lip, brow furrowed, and sighed before speaking.

“Oh. Um. I actually haven’t come out, officially.” Ilya aimed a surprised face at him as he crunched on a strip of calamari.

“Oh?”

“Like, I think the people in my life have probably guessed as much, and everyone’s been really great to me. I’m lucky. But I battled with myself about who I was for a while, and I think by the time everyone else figured it out, I didn’t really feel like I needed to.” Shane picked at the edge of his beer glass. “I didn’t really want to make a whole big thing of it. I’m kind of reserved, don’t want to be the focus of attention.”

Ilya laughed.

“Yes, that would bring attention, only if you have a party and pop a balloon with rainbow confetti. Big gay reveal, like gender reveal?”

“Oh my god, you know what I mean.” Shane rolled his eyes.

“When did you figure it out?”

“I don’t think it was until I moved here, to be honest. I started noticing guys more, but still kind of avoiding it. When I definitely knew, it was when I first noticed you on the train.”

“So you are saying you are gay?”

“Yes, Ilya. I’m gay,” Shane acknowledged, sighing contentedly.

“Gay for me?” He pointed to himself, sporting his signature toothy grin. Ilya was having too much fun with him.

“Fuck you,” Shane laughed. Ilya pointed again, waiting. “Alright, yes, you got it out of me.” He reached over the table and grabbed Ilya’s hand, resting them together on the surface.

When the food arrived and their beers were refreshed, Ilya had looped his foot around Shane’s leg underneath the table after they had to let go of their hands to eat. They dug right in, going for their own choices first before trying the other. Ilya was vocal, making  exaggerated moans for how much he was enjoying his pizza, insisting Shane try it. He held a piece out and made Shane take a bite from his hand, looking like he enjoyed the sight a little too much.

The night was going absolutely perfectly. Shane couldn’t believe this was the same Ilya from the train just a few hours earlier after work. He flipped from the quiet, frayed, frustrated Ilya to happy, goofy, fun Ilya like night and day. Shane wanted this night to make Ilya happy, but also to push them ahead, in the hopes of becoming something together. It was still crazy that they had gotten to this point, having dinner together, on a date together, ribbing each other and learning more about the other, after weeks of only stealing glances across the train car at the beginning, both too terrified to make a move. Shane hadn’t felt the pull to anyone else until he laid eyes on Ilya months ago. The pull was shifted to full throttle magnetism when he handed back the lost wallet, and then his whole world opened up. Shane never stood a chance against falling for him.

Ilya was fun to talk to, easy to be around, now that they had more time outside of their brief commute. He knew a night like tonight would be his downfall, because he’d only crave Ilya more when he wasn’t around. These little pockets of time would never be enough with him. He could fixate for hours on the sharpness of his jawline that softened at the first sign of a smile, the flirty glint in his eyes, the strong curve of his mouth that Shane so desperately wanted on his, he was art in human form. Could imagine Ilya’s arms wrapped around him, legs tangled, hands knotted. Shane needed it.

Dusk had broken, the air cooler when they left the restaurant. Ilya helped Shane back into his jacket and they joined hands again immediately. The street lamps had started lighting up, casting a yellow glow on them as they walked back to the waterfront on their way to the train. The sound of nightfall took over the harbor, seaplanes grounded for the evening and only the crisp slosh of the water against the bottom of the pier filling their ears.   Their pace was slow, at a crawl, stealing whatever time remained of the evening.

In front of the metro entrance, Ilya stepped in front of Shane and faced him, bringing them to a halt.

“I know we have whole train ride ahead of us,” Ilya began. “But thank you for tonight. All of it.” He looked down at their joined hands and rubbed Shane’s knuckles.

“Of course, Ilya,” he said softly. “I want to make you happy. I hope I did.”

“You could hit me with car and I would be happy, say thank you, I think,” Ilya joked. Shane barked out a laugh and dropped his forehead to Ilya’s shoulder.

“Don’t say that, I wouldn’t do that. Good thing I sold my car a long time ago.”

“Seriously, Shane. You make me so happy. I do not need much of anything, as long as you are with me. It is crazy how much I feel, I feel insane when I see you. And I think….” Ilya paused, taking a large enough breath that his chest puffed out and pushed Shane away slightly. He traced his fingers behind Shane’s ear, coming to rest at the base of his neck. “I think I would like to kiss you.”

Shane’s eyes widened, falling to his mouth. A lopsided grin pulled at his face.

“You think you’ve wooed me enough yet?” Shane asked softly, meeting his blue-eyed gaze again.

“I guess I cannot wait any longer, Hollander.”

“Well then kiss me, Rozanov,” Shane said. He barely got the words out and then Ilya was gently pressing his lips against Shane’s.

Chapter End Notes

“cutieful” is cutie + beautiful (if it wasn’t obvious lol). i feel like ilya is still getting a handle on north american slang and just makes up his own if he doesn't know what he wants to express and also because i felt like making him say that

“oooohh when you’re goin’ on a date, you put on a shirt, then you ride the train to the daaaaate” - rod kimble but if he used public transport

idk is hot rod too niche?

Господи/gospodi - god/my god

anyways posted this before i get busy packing and gone to camp for the weekend so enjoy :) i appreciate everyone for reading and i will try to write/edit while i am gone and respond to any comments when i get back!

Chapter 5

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya take a hike.

This chapter uses a work skin!

Chapter Notes

If Shane had thought the cheek kiss was so incredibly paralyzing, it paled in comparison to Ilya’s full, soft lips consuming him in this moment. He cupped Ilya’s cheeks to pull him ever closer, deepening the kiss while his body buzzed relentlessly, sparks shooting through his limbs and heat racing up his spine. Their mouths moved in sync, fitting together seamlessly, laying claim. Shane could feel Ilya’s heart thump thump thumping like crazy, smacking the inside of his chest with vigor.

They were reluctant to separate, but the need to breathe became too great, both rendered completely helpless to getting lost in each other. Ilya stepped away, peeling off of Shane after their mouths had been practically fused together. Neither said a word, just longingly gazed into eyes before they leaned in again, the hunger greater after the brief time apart. Shane could feel Ilya’s tongue licking at him and he opened up, gave it residence and sucked it eagerly. He tasted of the lager from the restaurant, hoppy and savory. It was sensory bliss, tantalizing, Ilya completely enveloping him, smelling, touching, tasting, hearing his small gasps and moans as they kept on, he wanted all of it.

“Ilya, I think we missed our train,” Shane said breathlessly when they pulled apart again, however not concerned in the slightest. There would be another one. Ilya wrapped him up and trailed kisses up and down his neck.

“I don’t care, Shanyechka,” Ilya mumbled against his skin. “There will be another. We can miss that one too.”

“We have to get home before they run the last trains, Ilya,” he reasoned, met with a rumbling groan from the Russian. Shane wondered if home would ever be a placed they shared. Ilya felt more like home than any address he had ever resided at. An address was just a street, a number, a skillfully assembled pile of wood and stone. It was up to the people you shared that space with, the ones you came home to, that made it special, made it worth coming back time and again. It wasn’t hard to envision Ilya waiting behind the front door, sitting on the couch, accompanying Shane within a singular set of walls. Was he getting ahead of himself? Oh well.

A pause.

“You keep saying my name funny.” As much as Shane wanted to stay in this moment, he needed to distract Ilya as much as himself and get them back on track. And this seemed to work.

“Is like a nickname, in Russia we give them to people we are close to. Like, affection. Big feelings.” Ilya leaned away, beaming, red like a strawberry. “You are Shanya, or can be Shanyechka too.”

“What are you? I want one for you.”

“My friend Sveta calls me Ilyusha, or you can say Ilyushka.”

“Ilyushka,” Shane repeated slowly, pronouncing each syllable. He couldn’t keep from smiling as it rolled off his tongue. “Yeah.”

Shane whispered “Ilyushka” once more on top of Ilya’s lips before kissing him again, Ilya breathed “Shanyechka” into his mouth. Shane’s head was spinning. So much for the distraction.

“Do we have to go,” Ilya complained once they finally started down the stairs into the metro concourse. He pouted and cradled himself against Shane’s arm. The white lights illuminating the concourse were stark and offensive to their eyes after the warm hues of the sunset in the sky outside. They probably could have lived the rest of their lives in the soft light on that harbor walk if given the opportunity.

It hadn’t been until they both came to realize that the next day was Saturday that they finally got moving along. Of course they were going to meet up again, they had all weekend. The train home would be good quality time to come up with a game plan. And hopefully the time wouldn’t be wasted making out with each other, although who could blame them if they did? They simply liked it too much. Definitely not time wasted.

The train was virtually empty except for them when they boarded. The long bench was open, Ilya sat down and when Shane settled in next to him, he was coaxed to rest on Ilya’s chest. It would have been better suited for a couch, or a bed—much cozier—but Shane kicked his feet up on the empty seating beside him and relaxed anyways. Ilya’s fingers threaded through his hair, scratching his head ever so gently while the train rattled through the tunnel. All Shane could do was close his eyes and enjoy it.

Comfort never felt so far away once Shane was behind the closed door back in his condo. And they were only twenty minutes across town. After Ilya left him with a parting kiss for his own apartment at Renfrew, the vacant expanse of the train car felt a thousand times more desolate. The creaking seats echoed, rumbling tracks shook him like a mechanical bull, every chime and announcement for the next stops were meaningless, hollow noises. The world had made sense with Ilya at his side. Shane supposed that should be a good thing, that Ilya wasn’t some insignificant passerby to him, that he changed his chemical balance so significantly since coming into Shane’s life that the moments he was alone were more noticeable rather than the usual fleeting and mundane routine.

His mind drifted, considered whether Ilya was experiencing the same drop whenever they were apart now. Shane could assume, very confidently, that they were the same amount of crazy for each other.

It would only be a short time until they would meet for breakfast, venture out to the art museum, and Shane could fall asleep with that promise. They could have easily decided to spend the night together but didn’t want to check off every box on the list of things to do with your crush in one night, wanting to leave something else to work up to, to earn and enjoy unhurried.

Sleep was supposed to come easy. He had just set his alarm and laid the phone on the nightstand when it buzzed.

Shane fiddled around with his phone a little bit more and put his phone back on the nightstand, switching off off his lamp in the same stretch, and closed his eyes. The silence was short-lived yet again when the phone vibrated after a few minutes. His face illuminated in the pitch black bedroom, squinting at his messages yet again.

Shane’s face ached from his dumbass grin by the time he let the screen go dark again. His heart was beating so rapidly, and the sheer quantity of god damn butterflies that had been released in his stomach would have landed him in an ambulance if there was no flirty exchange and sexy Russian behind it. Luckily he knew the cause and it was no medical emergency.

It was causing a sleep emergency though, because his entire body was buzzing now. The longer he could not settle into anything resembling sleep, the more worried he got that he’d sleep so heavily whenever he finally did knock out that he’d miss alarms—all four that he set—and miss breakfast. Miss Ilya. Shane conceded to his restlessness and popped half of a melatonin, and hoped dreams would come soon.

—

Shane had heard of the expression “too much of a good thing”, when he was younger and his mom told him he to stop sneaking pieces of fudge that they had picked up on a family road trip after stopping at a country market and bakery. He had bemoaned that it was simply too yummy when his mom hid the box on the high shelf of the kitchen cabinet, out of reach, and she told him “Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing, Shane. You’ll get a stomach ache.”

He learned to enjoy things in moderation after that, be it food or TV, books or sweets, and he found he enjoyed stuff more because he wasn’t rushing to have everything all at once.

It never felt that way with Ilya. Suddenly the lesson from Shane’s childhood blew away in the wind, a balloon on a ribbon that he was instructed to hold on tight to and was now lost to the atmosphere. ‘Obsessed’ felt like a strong word, but they couldn’t get enough of each other as their connection grew. Sitting together in the morning and afternoon on their commutes was now a daily occurrence—yes, daily—was never enough time anymore.

Things had been going steady for the last few months. They took each other out on dates constantly, either discovering something new to do or enjoying the growing list of favorite places they had come to find. After their second date to breakfast and the art museum, they returned again the couple of times a new show started exhibiting. And they always took the train whenever they could, although some things were far off the path of the metro lines so they reluctantly called for a ride share. It just wasn’t the same.

The texting was non-stop when they weren’t together. It became a diary of their plans, their flirting, disgustingly sappy collections of English letters that Shane sent under the table during meetings, selfies that they took together, links for recipes to make the nights they stayed in, sharing new latte flavors from the cafés they picked up from.

Spending the night together was a new development. Shane knew that Ilya knew, or at least assumed, from their first date and small conversations following that, that he hadn’t been with a man before, probably didn’t want to push it, was content with what they had going to wait for Shane to say the word. Finding the moment or the word to say was another battle. He could tell Ilya knew what he was trying to get at when he finally attempted to ask for it, humiliatingly not able to form the question outside of his thoughts. So Ilya cast the line, hooked and reeled him in and after, Shane couldn’t remember why that had been so hard for him to say in the first place.

Shane woke on a Saturday morning in early August naked and cloaked in body heat. Smooth, soft skin at his back. Wrapped in thick arms. A chin tucked into the crook of his neck, warm puffs of breath cascading over his shoulder. He reached behind his head and found a patch of thick curly hair. The body stirred and hummed as he tugged gently on the hair, letting the ends fall away between his fingers. Shane relaxed into the body as the arms tightened around his waist.

There was a dull ache below his lower back, perhaps a reminder of the night before, a temporary souvenir. One that he’d like to be a repeat customer for.

Lying in bed now, Shane knew he was done for.

🚈🚈🚈🚈

Ilya came back to life with the scent of sex and eucalyptus shampoo filling his lungs. His arms clutched something hard— too hard to be his pillow or bunched up comforter. His legs were tangled in a mess of sheets and limbs and ankles rested on boney mounds of feet. When his eyes peeled open, short black hair and millions of freckles that crested over a cheek greeted him.

Shane.

Shane in his bed, the silky warm skin of his back flush against Ilya’s chest, muscles relaxed and body pliant. Shane’s glasses were on the nightstand beyond them, folded liked they belonged there on top of a Russian book from Ilya’s shelf. He had put them on and opened the book pretending to read from it when Ilya came out of the kitchen, trying to look sexy because Ilya had made it known more than once what those glasses did to him just from seeing them on the street. Ilya would have pounced on him either way, but it turned him into a whole different animal.

After stretching back to tug on Ilya’s hair, as if checking that he was real, Shane rolled over to face him. His hair from the front was sticking up in some places and matted down and in frizzed tufts in others, the freckles on his sleepy skin absolutely radiant in the streaks of morning light coming through the blinds. The light turned his eyes more golden brown than cocoa, eyelashes fluttering lazily as they met each other’s gaze. Shane would absolutely disagree and probably physically fight him on this, but he was the most beautiful Ilya had ever seen him right now in this moment. That said a lot, considering his glasses were not on his face.

Ilya leaned in to kiss his cheekbone and then the tip of his nose. He made a tired satisfied noise.

“Good morning,” Shane croaked, voice not completely back yet after rest. And for other reasons. Ilya’s skated his fingertips up and down his sides, feeling the emergence of goosebumps in their wake with each pass.

“Good morning,” Ilya whispered back. Both grew giddy and giggly as they held their stares, internally trying to play catch-up with how they found themselves this morning.

Ilya could sense his face softening after a minute or so, Shane’s eyes drawing in to something curious at the shift.

“You are very beautiful like this,” Ilya spoke quietly, thumb brushing up Shane’s neck and chin, landing on his cheek.

“Definitely not,” Shane scoffed, shying his eyes away. “I probably have bedhead and my skin is gross and my-”

“Shhh,” Ilya hushed. “You are perfect.”

Because Shane was still Shane whether his hair was combed, face washed, teeth brushed, fully clothed or naked and sprawled out in bed. He was still Shane whether he wanted a beer or just a water with lemon at their favorite restaurant. He was still Shane whether his opinions on the Canucks upcoming season changed by the hour or whether they planned on playing mini golf together on a random Saturday but Shane thought a walk in the park sounded better on the day of. He was everything Ilya ever wanted and hoped to have in his life, but hadn’t known what form that want would take until Shane stepped into his train car back in March.

“You are, too,” Shane murmured, and buried his face in the spot below Ilya’s chin. Ilya nosed his unruly hair and planted the side of his mouth to his head.

They laid there long enough that Shane’s body went heavy and lax, sleeping again, wrapped in Ilya’s cocoon. Ilya weaseled his arm out from underneath him once it started to go numb and staticky, careful not to disturb him, and blindly searched for his phone on the table behind him. He opened UberEats and filled up a cart with a few items from Tim Hortons. The café was only around the block but there was no way he was getting up from this right now. Still, it was too soon when his apartment buzzer sounded.

“Malysh, let’s have breakfast,” Ilya said, poking Shane across his cheeks, causing his face to scrunch up cutely, and he stirred.

“Mnnfh,” Shane grumbled. “I’m comfy.” Ilya traced figure-eights lightly over his back, which wasn’t helping him return to earth in any capacity, so he tried a new approach and stretched down to squeeze a handful of Shane’s ass. His eyes sprung open and he squirmed within Ilya’s grasp.

“Hey!”

Rolling out of bed, Ilya threw on some sweats, deciding to go commando. He plucked a baggy shirt and sweats from his closet for Shane and draped them across the end of the bed. The buzzer went off again and Ilya muttered a complaint under his breath, heading to the door. By the time he got there, the delivery had been set on the welcome mat and the person had left. He scooped everything up and brought it inside, arranging his spread on the kitchen table while Shane got dressed. Two coffees, two bagel sandwiches, and a box of Timbits to share.

A shadow slunk up the hallway, beating Shane to the room before his body arrived. He must have wet his hair in the bathroom, fixing it into something more tame, because well, to put it plainly, it looked wet, and not at all how it was when Ilya had left him in the bedroom. Shane padded over and Ilya waved him along to the couch when he had his food.

“Finally you are up, Shanyechka. I have spent hours all morning making this,” Ilya joked. He took his bagel sandwich out of the crinkly parchment bag once he sat down on the opposite site of the couch facing Shane, chomping a hefty bite out of it. It was a small couch, their knees had to be drawn up because of their tall frames, but their toes still met in the middle.

“Well I appreciate you went through all this trouble for me,” Shane said, going along with it. “But I wonder who I was sleeping with if you were out here making bagels and donuts.”

“Okay, you caught me, I cheated at breakfast,” Ilya surrendered, holding his hands in the air, an exaggerated look of defeat taking over.

“What?!” Shane said in feigned shock, laughing at how corny this was. He loved it. “You mean you’re not,” he paused to hold up his own food packaging, “Tim Horton?”

“Is just, I walked all the way to the door to get this and wanted you to appreciate my effort,” Ilya complained with great theatrics.

“Yes, the long excruciating walk to the door, how very noble of you,” Shane said, grinning. “Your sacrifice does not go unnoticed.”

“Maybe you give me foot massage later,” Ilya began, extending his foot closer to Shane, making him shriek in protest. He wiggled his toes. “They have been across many kilometers, over ice and stone and fire, all so you could be fed.”

“Get that the hell away from me, Rozanov!” Shane was fully laughing, swatting his foot back. Ilya lowered his foot between the back of the couch and Shane’s leg. It was immediately pinned there by Shane’s elbow for protection from further assault.

The scene was so sickeningly domestic to Ilya. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Shane as they quietly munched on crumbly donut holes and the rest of their bagels after that. They fit each other like gloves, bantering and flirting and just living, complementary of each other in all the right ways. There was never a need to fill all their time with something for the sake of filling it, just being together was enough. It was hard not to imagine the rest of his life looking just like this.

About an hour later, both had showered (together, because water conservation was newly high on the list of priorities—though it seemed counterproductive given it took longer to bathe together than it would have individually, something they turned a blind eye to), and they changed into hiking gear. They had done some lighter trails once in a while over the summer, when Shane suggested the Grouse Grind after their most recent outing. While working for the Canucks, Shane had seen the team take the training camp roster out there, Rose included obviously for the social media content, as what he said she described as “cruel and unusual torture for someone that uses a phone for a living”. Ilya had not heard of the hike so Shane read him the summary from a Vancouver trails website and he was immediately onboard for the challenge. Shane looked at him like he didn’t fully understand the intensity of it, but they were both in good shape and at least it was only one-way.

The forecast was clear and had been in the days prior, so there was no fear of a slippery, muddy climb. Ilya laced up his boots while Shane collected some trail snacks from his pantry and filled water bottles.

Grouse Mountain was across the harbor, just outside of North Vancouver. There was no train outside of the peninsula, but of course they took the train as far as it could go and hitched a ride share the rest of the way. The other option was the bus line however the hour-long commute that came with the bus quickly cast aside that idea. As they cruised over the Lions Gate Bridge in their driver’s SUV, the mountain came into view.

As expected, the entrance to the trail was busy, thanks to the more than ideal weather early in the day, and the fact that it was the weekend. Ilya and Shane got to work with a few stretches. When they finally stood at the mouth of the climb and looked up the incline they exchanged nervous glances, like maybe fooling around in the shower that morning was not such a hot idea right before putting their legs and knees and joints through this strenuous task “for fun”. Fortunately it was not a race, although Ilya thought he might goad Shane into little challenges along the way for personal reward to make things interesting, but that was before seeing the height they had to reach and the grade of the ascent.

It only took a few strides past the gate to make it under tree cover, the sun off their backs a welcome prospect for the roughly two-hour journey. Wooden plank steps led them ahead and the entire view above their heads was nothing but lush greenery, the canopy of the mountain giants masking nearly all of the blue sky above.

Not even ten minutes into the climb, Ilya’s breath was already coming harder, his lungs expanding wider, reaching for maximum capacity in response to the exertion. Shane was huffing beside him too, watching the path in front of him to avoid missing a step or tripping on a stray tree root. A silent exchange between them led to slowing their pace just slightly. Occasionally some faster hikers, either more experienced or naive to this point, called them to pass and they stepped aside to give way, happy to catch their breath and shake their limbs out, drink some water. The path twisted onward.

Halfway up they stopped for a proper rest. It had taken them about an hour so far. Both took a couple handfuls of nut mix and crackers from the snack bag Shane packed to refuel, sloppily squirted water from their bottles into their mouths, letting some of the cool liquid drip down their chins to refresh. Despite the shade, sweat gathered at the necklines of their shirts. Ilya stripped of his tank top and tied it around his head to keep the sweat out of his eyes, and Shane lost interest in the small shared spread, looking at Ilya like he was the snack instead. And with the beading water gushing down his glistening bare chest, which was still puffing out while he caught his breath, Shane’s gaze turned darker, more wanting, lips parted, like Ilya was a fucking oasis in the desert. To avoid any physical actions that would be frowned upon in public, Ilya let Shane take the lead as they rejoined the path for the second half, but not before a quick kiss and encouraging slap on the ass that he knew would make Shane insane.

Their muscles were starting to protest even more after starting up again, the aches and fatigue deepening in their bones and through their knees, which held their weight on the shower floor just hours ago. Ilya understood it now, what Rose had said to Shane about doing this trek, and she for sure had it worse, she had to keep up with professional athletes. He and Shane are surely far behind where that group would have been by now.

Three quarters of the way up, they stopped again for water. The view of the city was starting to break through remaining umbrella of the tree cover, hinting at the elevation they’ve reached so far. Shane’s hair was sopping wet, sweat dripping off his bangs while he bent over, resting his hands on his knees and pulling deep breaths into his lungs.

At the top of the mountain, the tree cover broke and the crystal clear blue sky welcomed them. Dirt from the path merged into a rugged clearing of stone and grass. A chalet structure stood on the other side of the peak with descending cables and a constant stream of gondolas to take hikers back down to the bottom. Shane stepped off to the side and dropped himself into the plush grass, splaying out like a starfish. Ilya collapsed chest-down between his legs, rising and falling in motion with Shane’s breaths that were in sync with his own.

“This fucking mountain…,” Shane gasped, “is no joke.” Ilya nodded against his stomach, still too out of breath to speak.

They laid there for a few minutes, legs like jelly when they finally did get up. Ilya hoisted Shane off the ground as a thank-you for letting him use him like a pillow, and also for drenching Shane’s shirt with his face sweat during their cool-down before he hopped to his feet. Ilya pulled him close, pinning his arms to his side.

“Don’t kiss me, you’re all gross,” Shane complained, leaning away when Ilya tried to teasingly wipe some extra perspiration on him. Ilya had tried to fake him out by puckering up, acting like he wanted a kiss at the start but Shane saw right through his little trick.

“But winner gets a kiss,” Ilya said and tried him again, giggly like a maniac.

“What? We weren’t racing!” Shane exclaimed, still ducking from him. He began to laugh, the noises peppered with tiny shrieks. “You let me walk ahead!”

“Kiss is consolation prize, too!”

Shane wiggled his way free and took off, Ilya following close behind. Neither got far with their lethargic bodies. Once again, Ilya enclosed his arms around Shane when he caught up and planted a loud, exaggerated kiss to Shane’s cheek while they giggled like kids playing tag in a schoolyard.

“Ilya!”

He gazed down at Shane with a sparkling, mischievous heat. Gloriously, the look was returned by the black haired boy, the stars in his eyes mirroring the speckles adorning his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Shane kissed him for real, languid and breathy, smiling into it, the sweat no longer a concern worth holding off for.

Ilya unraveled himself from around Shane and took his hand, guiding him to the wooden lookout platform. Vancouver stretched out far below them, looking more like a miniature landscape by a hobbyist, a play toy, than an actual living breathing metropolis. The sun broke into a million tiny fragments on the surface of the harbor, bouncing in the wake of small boats that moved around. Ilya rooted his feet behind Shane, pressed against him and dangling arms invited lazy fingers to loop and intertwine, swinging at their sides. He kissed the nape of Shane’s neck under the noon sun.

The view below them was so breathtaking. But it was nothing like this man in his arms. Shane was so perfect and completed so much of Ilya that he hadn’t known was ever missing until those missing pieces sat across from him on a subway train. Every moment he’d spent with Shane was so many things: gratifying, challenging, exciting, and so incredibly fortuitous and rewarding, but really the list was infinite, longer and deeper than the grasp Ilya had on the English language. There should be more words in both languages he spoke to properly do Shane justice, but it would never be enough and he would have to live with the unfinished sole edition of the Dictionary of Shane Hollander for all his life.

At the very least he could convey all the words he lacked the vocabulary for in other ways. Ilya already knew he looked at Shane like he was the only person in the room, he didn’t need anyone to tell him or to look in a mirror because he felt it, and he wondered if Shane saw it too. He hoped Shane saw it. There was an easy way to start, but there was so much more Ilya wanted to do so that Shane couldn’t ignore the magnitude of how much he-

“I love you.”

Shane leaned into him at the same time he let the words loose into the air, and Ilya froze, the same thing still on the tip of his tongue. This was far from the picture perfect moment he’d envisioned— enveloped in sweat, his stupid tank top still tied on him like a sweatband, post-rigorous hike and already breathless before this knocked the rest of the air from his lungs. Really, it was the most honest, unquestioning time for such a declaration. They were disgusting, sticky, probably smelly, and Shane loved him anyway. There was no candlelight, no bouquet of flowers, no flashy expensive junk to help drive the point home, because frankly they didn’t need any of that, just Shane saying it purely and organically as they existed in the present on this mountaintop.

“Shane…,” he mustered, voice breaking.

“Baby?” Shane craned his neck and cautiously eyed him.

“Oh my god, Shane,” Ilya wept. “I love you.” He stepped to Shane’s front and crashed their mouths together fervently, urgently, needing every fiber of Shane to feel this as loudly as it had been spoken. “I’m so in love with you.”

Chapter End Notes

8/14
i forgot to add notes when i originally posted this chapter, i was in such a hurry after editing and had to pack to take a small road trip

the canucks really take their development camp to the grouse grind, not the actual training camp but it's kind of iconic, like hey welcome to the team now climb this mountain for fun

shane and ilya you WILL melt my heart every single time amen god bless, the only higher power i believe in

Chapter 6

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya go on a double date.

Chapter Notes

This chapter uses a work skin!

🚈🚈🚈🚈

Opening day for the Canucks was proving enough to make the whole city come back to life. Was the team expected to be very good? Not really. But hockey ran through the people’s blood like water ran through Canada’s rivers and everyone started out the season hopeful that the team would surprise them. The train was packed by the time Ilya got on at Renfrew, and Shane couldn’t hold a seat for him for very long before passengers gave him the stink-eye at his work bag hogging a seat.

Their conversation was very entertaining, Shane grinning like an idiot at his screen and looking across the aisle to see Ilya with the same expression as he begged to sit on his boyfriend’s lap during their commute. Shane couldn’t recall the train being so loaded the previous year at this time, but he also wasn’t looking to save a seat for anyone then so it didn’t really matter where he plunked himself down. After Ilya was expressly told “no”, he flashed Shane the puppy eyes and a melodramatic pout, as if he could convince Shane to change his mind about the seating arrangements.

It’d been shy of about two months since that day on Grouse Mountain when they shared their declarations of love while sweaty and filthy and simply perfect in each other’s eyes. The climb to the top had been so physically demanding that by the end of the night when they tried to fuck, the ache that was settling deep within their legs limited them only to a very lazy make-out session and some skilled handwork, because their arms were perfectly fine in comparison. And they knew they would make it up to each other in time. There had been no hurry that night though. The idea of finality had been realized, a vision of permanency, a promise of many tomorrows now that this was real, the be-all and end-all, their love tethering the rest of them after their hearts cast lines and hooked together, and they took their sweet, sweet time. There was no need to rush, only the need for each other in every way, for always.

Since, Ilya had scheduled some time (primarily to properly mentally prepare), and opened up to Shane about his mother’s death. Shane loved him, and he wanted Shane to know all of him, his past, his struggles, his hopes, his dreams. He didn’t want secrets or for Shane to be in the dark, or anything else that could come between them, just honesty and emotional openness that they could tackle as a unit. Anything he could say, good or bad, was never something that could make Shane love him any less, he was assured. It was a hard conversation nonetheless, having to relive that day of his childhood and the struggles that followed. The news of Ilya’s mother hit Shane hard. He never wanted Ilya to endure a sorrow like that again, though he knew it would always walk with him, and his love shone fiercer, breaking through the shadows of Ilya’s pain as he comforted him.

When the train reached Chinatown Ilya sprung out of his seat and followed Shane off, out into the concourse, hand seeking refuge in hand after a tumultuous and lonely train ride five meters away from the love of his life.

“Oh my god, Hollander, that was most horrible ride of my life,” Ilya exclaimed, falling against Shane’s shoulder for support. Shane caught him and held him upright. He was one hundred percent fine. “You must never leave me like that again. I could have been kidnapped!”

“Ilya,” Shane began, rolling his eyes with mirth. “You are a six foot tall buff Russian man. No one is planning on kidnapping you, I promise. And you took the metro alone for quite a while before I was around.”

“Noooo, Shanyechka, I need my very hot, very strong Canadian boyfriend to protect me,” he whined. “At very least you could fight someone to get my seat back next time.”

“You know what, sure. I will fight someone for you, Ilya,” Shane jested in concession. He jabbed Ilya lightly in the ribs as they walked. “You’re worth it.”

“God that will be so sexy, thank you, I love you!” Ilya peppered kisses all over his cheek, loudly, smacking his lips with each release.

He was such a clown. Shane loved him so much.

The hot summer days had quickly dwindled to the crisp briskness of autumn, leaves already crunching and blowing around in the streets. Dew from the night was still drying up, dampness hung in the air but Shane and Ilya kept toasty warm clinging to each other. Rogers Arena loomed overhead, the building emitting a different electricity, like it could sense the return of the fans and everyone else that made it hum later that evening.

Ilya started walking Shane to work a few weeks back. Partially because Ilya wanted to, but also onlookers on the train seemed like they were tiring of seeing them shove their tongues down their throats at the crack of dawn before Shane got off at his stop. Plus it was nice to have the extra time together. Once winter came, the outdoors may be less friendly but they would still take advantage if they could. If they had to kiss goodbye on the train every once in a while everyone else would just have to get used to it.

The morning dose of tongue was coming hot and fast when Hayden cleared his throat behind them on the sidewalk.

“Why?” was all Hayden could ask. “I try to start my day on a good note, I try to look forward to seeing my girlfriend when I get to work and I have to walk through the two of you sucking face like the apocalypse is upon us.”

“Hi Hayden,” Shane said, too pleased with himself.

“Maybe your girlfriend does not like you that much,” Ilya chimed in just to irk him. “Or she would be out here parading you around too. She is probably inside trying to get phone numbers from team right now, there are many good options in there.” Shane swatted at him.

“Always a pleasure, Rozanov,” Hayden grumbled. “Jackie likes me just fine, thank you.”

“Somehow,” Ilya muttered sarcastically, and Shane scolded him under his breath.

After Ilya got in one extra sloppy kiss in front of Hayden both to Shane’s shock and for good measure, he said goodbye and left for the office.

“I don’t know how you deal with him, man,” Hayden sighed when they scanned themselves into the staff entry. “His sense of humor is really… different.”

“He’s fine, Hayd. You need to get to know each other.”

“Yeah, you would say he’s fine after getting your soul sucked out of you.”

“You’re just really easy to rile up,” Shane laughed. “He’s harmless.”

“Ughhhh, you sound like Jackie” Hayden groaned. He hesitated for a moment, Shane could tell he had something else to say. “Well… she said it would be nice for the four of us to do a double date sometime. I’m not thrilled with the idea of Rozanov being there but I’ll do it. For her. And you, because I owe you forever for not cockblocking me with HR policies.”

“I’m kind of… dating… Ilya? So he’d have to be there, that’s how a double date works, just F.Y.I.. And, to be fair, there were no rules against workplace relationships, I just encouraged you to be responsible so that I didn’t have to drown in paperwork,” Shane said. “And so Jackie was more likely to give your ass a chance.” Hayden rolled his eyes theatrically. “But I think a double date sounds nice. Jackie’s always so far away in the box office that I hardly ever see her. Let’s do it.”

“If Ilya already has plans I’m okay with you just being our third wheel,” Hayden called as they split to different sides of the hallway. “How about this Saturday?”

“He’ll be available,” Shane assured confidently. “Text me with the plan.”

🚈🚈🚈🚈

There was a pep in Ilya’s step as he walked into the office. He was going to the Canucks game with Shane that evening, would possibly receive a risqué phone call on his lunch break (fuck, he had to find somewhere private for that), and in front of him sat a sleek new computer with a shiny foil gift ribbon on top. Brand new tower, two new high-res monitors, and to sweeten the pot: a small gift basket of coffee pods for the office Keurig and mini chocolate bars.

Finally!

After weeks of begging, months of complaining, and suffering for his entire tenure, he finally got a new computer. It was astounding to him how a company would stick someone in marketing, especially in the digital age, on such a shitty, defunct piece of equipment. The thing had been on its last legs when he started, and how it ever lasted this long was nothing short of a miracle, although it should have been put out of its misery long ago.

“Hey, Roz,” Cliff called as he ventured over. He motioned to the computer. “Snazzy, huh? I really had to give it to Wiebe to get this rush ordered. Couldn’t keep watching you inch closer to actually murdering someone. I don’t have time to go to court.”

“You did this for me? Thank you, Cliff,” Ilya said airily, a little in disbelief. Or, rather, a lot.

“You got it, man! The coffee and shit is from Bood and I. Just couldn’t believe in a job that literally is computers, you had the worst one in the building. I think it was from the 90s.” Ilya chuckled.

“I will give my thanks to Bood, too. I… thank you.”

Cliff smacked his hand on the desk twice and went back to his office. Ilya did the honors or turning the computer on, it purred and came to life. His files had been converted to the newest software, neatly organized on the desktop. Programs opened in an instant, there was no lag, no freezing, no warnings of updates that couldn’t be installed because the OS was too outdated. What a breath of fresh air. He emailed himself one of the more tame photos of him and Shane from his phone and made it the computer’s wallpaper, heart thrumming when he took a few moments to look at the image in the crystal clear resolution before jumping into his project. Ever a broken record, Ilya thought to himself how beautiful Shane Hollander was, always.

When was lunch break again? Soon, he hoped.

—

Saturday came as fast as Ilya’s new work computer had been running. Work was objectively more tolerable throughout the rest of the week as a result, now that he wasn’t walking in the door already dreading the bullshit his tech would put him through anymore. Shane stayed over on Friday night, Ilya begged, but didn’t need to put in too much effort, claiming he needed some “pre-relief” before being forced to spend almost an entire day with Hayden. They put on a movie—neither could remember because they didn’t give it one lick of their attention—and laid on the couch chest to chest, kissing slowly until they fell asleep.

Okay, so they did a little more than that.

Ilya did accept that he was a little dramatic about spending time with Hayden. He knew Shane’s friend and coworker just a little from a small handful of outings. He had never been treated unfairly by Hayden, although the guy sometimes joked that Shane could have done better than picking up a random guy from the metro. Never had he said it with genuine insult, and Ilya always laughed along. However whenever Ilya tried to poke back Hayden got all defensive, unable to take a joke, and closed off for a little while. He might not understand Ilya’s Slavic sense of humor, Shane reasoned to him. Which could very well be true. Hayden was kind of a goof, whereas Ilya could be silly but deadpanned, dark and dry, more often than not. Generally though, it set the table for misinterpretation and just put the whole dynamic off. Ilya wanted to tell him to quit dishing it out if he couldn’t take it but he thought better than actually pissing off the guy.

Other than that, they did okay together, surprising as it might seem. They could share the air and laugh and chat amongst each other. Ilya was seldom the jealous type, at least around Hayden (since he wasn’t anywhere close to a threat to his relationship, not even a sniff) and could share Shane, otherwise happy to gossip with Jackie while Shane and Hayden talked shop, because conversations always made it back to work and hockey. Jackie was very curious about Russia as well, and he enjoyed going down memory lane (the happier side) with her.

On the morning of the double date, Ilya had yet to find out where they were supposed to be going, and he was antsy. Not so much that he needed to know, just curious, wanted to feel a little more included in the plans other than just showing up. He was especially clingy that morning with Shane who was attempting to make them breakfast in Ilya’s kitchen, hoping to sweeten him up to get any clues.

“Mmh what is chef’s special today,” Ilya crooned, stepping to Shane’s back and crossing his arms around his waist. Shane’s hair was flattened in the back in an odd pattern from slumber, the tips of his ears warm, neck and cheeks flushing to match. Ilya’s lips found his neck and came to rest there for a moment. Batter sizzled in a frying pan in front of them.

“Pancakes, blueberries for me and Reese’s chips for you,” Shane said, leaning into him. Ilya’s tongue slithered out and licked a stripe from the base of his neck up to his earlobe. Shane swatted at him weakly.

“Is there anything else on menu?”

“No,” Shane mustered, voice cracking. His eyes had fluttered shut but he was struggling to maintain composure. Ilya let his hand coast south and palmed Shane through the front of his briefs.

“Not even sausage?”

“Fuck off, I’m going to burn them.” Ilya giggled and gave his hips a squeeze. He let his hands come to rest on the crest of the bone, the hem of Shane’s shirt draped over his fingers.

“Okay. I will be best audience you have ever had. You will not know I am here.”

Immediately, he betrayed his statement and dipped his finger in the wet batter on top of the uncooked flapjack, bringing it to his mouth. On the way his finger took a detour and swiped Shane’s cheek, leaving a streak of batter in its path amongst the barely-there stubble.

“Oh no, how did that happen?”

“I’m in love with a pain in the ass,” Shane groaned as he tried to flip the cakes over in the pan. Ilya could have easily made a comment about being a different type of pain in the ass, but the moment was turning sweet. He instead rounded Shane and let his tongue clean up the residue, laving against his stubbly sandpaper skin, delicious drags that already tasted faintly of vanilla and the peanut butter chips that were mixed into the batter. He finished each lick off with a kiss, slow and wet.

The pancakes got pretty brown by the time they left the skillet, but maple syrup would save the flavor of the more scorched parts. Ilya went so far as to cut some of the other berries in his fridge to silently apologize for being a terribly wonderful distraction, topping them with a mound of whipped cream on the plate. Shane scooped half of the dollop off his fruit and shook it off onto Ilya’s plate. The whipped cream sort of of defeated the freshness of the fruit, especially when the natural sweetness of the fruit needed to cut some of the savory close-to-burnt cook of the pancakes.

“We have to be ready to go by one this afternoon,” Shane said between bites of blueberry pancake. His cheeks puffed like a chipmunk as he moved his food inside his mouth to speak, lips held tight through the statement and hand masking his mouth.

“And I still cannot know where we are going? Is already bad enough I am sharing our day together with Pike.” Ilya cut a pancake with the side of his fork and stabbed the piece onto the prongs.

“Ilya- actually, no. Get it all out of your system now,” he said to the Hayden complaint.

“No Shane,” Ilya whined. “If I have no comic relief later I will die.”

“You won’t die, and you promised you’d be nice.”

“I did not promise, I do not remember this,” Ilya tutted before finally taking his bite. Shane raised his eyebrows, a look that said Don’t test me, I have the texts to prove it. “Ugh fine, but please just tell me one thing about the day.”

“We’re taking the metro to Coquitlam.”

“Okay, so we take metro, just like every other day. Not news.”

“You said one thing. That’s the thing.” The corner of Shane’s mouth curled up, knowing he was being a smart ass, mouth full of pancake once again.

“I am in love with terrible comedian,” Ilya huffed with a smile he couldn’t shoo, a glob of syrup stuck at the corner of his mouth.

Nearly all the dishes had taken their place on the drying mat next to the sink about thirty minutes later. Ilya left the large skillet and the mixing bowl from the batter soaking in the basin, he would worry about them later. He toweled his hands dry and found Shane on the couch scrolling his phone, hand mindlessly rubbing over his full stomach, bloated from the sugar. That was the love of his life. That, he was certain.

For a moment, Ilya committed the sight to memory, as normal as it looked to the untrained eye. There was nothing truly extraordinary about this scene, and yet there was. It was entirely extraordinary, absolutely unreal how his life had woven itself into the image set before him over the better part of a year. Shane fit into his life like he’d always belonged there, the needle and thread found at last, to pull the seams tight and secure on the fabric of Ilya’s soul and make a home in his heart.

He crossed the living room and crowded Shane from above, caging him against the back cushion.

“Gimme kiss,” he said. Shane’s eyes flicked up and he pursed his lips, reaching up to meet Ilya’s waiting ones. The first was chaste, quick, and not enough. Ilya leaned back down to steal one deeper, tongue sliding inside, taking all he could get.

“You taste like maple.”

“I hope so. I would be very concerned if I ate pancakes and tasted like big juicy steak after,” Ilya joked.

They spent a while lazing around on the couch, and when noon drew nearer they showered and got ready to go out. The walk to the Renfrew station was chilly despite the sun, the only other sign of autumn being the small heaps of crumpled orange leaves that had collected against the street curbs. Ilya kept warm in a new sweater and pressed against Shane’s side, toque capped over his curls. At the station Shane cozied his cheek into the round of Ilya’s shoulder, absorbing his body heat and inhaling the scent of his spiced cologne.

“Have you ever been to Coquitlam?” Shane asked on the platform. “They have a massive frog there.”

“What do you mean, massive frog? It just does not leave? Does not hop away?” Ilya glanced sideways down at Shane’s face curiously, trying to decipher what he meant, what kind of gigantic frog species lived in Vancouver and had settled in one spot like a human, and for such a marvel of nature why he had not heard of it before.

“No, it’s a sculpture, like public art. It’s outside the train station there.” Yeah, that made more sense. What a silly thought, a massive frog living amongst the residents of Coquitlam.

“No way. We will see it?” The train pulled in just then, and they inched closer to board.

“We should have time,” Shane replied. Ilya hummed, a closed-mouth smile spreading across his face, and they boarded the train hand in hand.

There were no seats next to each other, only singles. They opted to stand, hanging on to each other and the rider grip poles, blushing and grinning and looking disgustingly cute in their close proximity. Ilya arched his eyebrows and nodded to a single seat suggestively, to which Shane unfairly muttered “You’re still not sitting in my lap, Ilya”, and Ilya moaned in complaint. The train lurched forward, beginning their trek to Coquitlam, sailing past road traffic, between buildings, through the pines, away from the mountains and their regular stomping grounds. Eventually the tracks rose off the ground onto the elevated portion of the Millennium Line and they really felt like they were flying. Until, of course, they slowed for each stop along the way.

Ilya hopped down the stairs of the Lafarge Lake-Douglas station two at a time, mountains far off in the distance now, and landed at the edge of the giant frog in the ground. His smile faded slightly and he looked at it puzzlingly.

“Why is this half a frog?”

“What do you mean?” Shane said, slowing behind him.

“You said this is big frog, I only see half of frog. Other half is underground?”

Ilya pointed at the frog with wild hands, in disbelief at how Shane was missing the fact that the only head and back of the frog were visible, the rest submerged into the pad of concrete surrounding it.

“Did they forget to finish frog?” Ilya asked again, astounded. All Shane could do was laugh at him.

“No, it was made like that on purpose,” he stated. Ilya gawked at him, shifting his stare between Shane and the sculpture. “It’s like, symbolic. I think it has something to do with the resurgence of nature in the area. So it’s supposed to look like it’s sitting in the water.”

“Ah, well you lied to me then. You said there is frog here, is only half frog.”

“I didn’t lie! It’s still a frog, Ilya.”

Ilya crouched down next to the frog’s face that emerged from the cement puddle.

“I will free you from your confines,” he whispered to the inanimate object. “I will talk to mayor or whoever I have to, hold letter writing campaign, march in the streets, to carve you out of there.”

Shane overheard Ilya’s declaration to the frog sculpture and keeled over laughing.

“Come on, freak. Hayden’s waiting to pick us up.”

🚈🚈🚈🚈

The group sat down around a small table at a pottery studio, the couples across from each other, Jackie thankfully on Ilya’s side of the table. At least Shane was thankful for this so Ilya couldn’t mess with Hayden while painting. Each selected a plain ceramic piece to paint. Shane and Ilya agreed to each make plates for their dinner dates at home, and Shane had to steer Ilya away from both a dragon and a puppy sitting on the shelf of available pieces. He told Ilya if they had extra time he could get another thing to paint.

They all got to chatting as soon as they picked out their glaze colors to paint with, Jackie asking about Ilya’s job and what was new in general since they last got together. Jackie worked on painting a chicken with some polka dots and Hayden had a small saucer and bowl he was just painting stripes on. Shane kept watching Ilya steal sad jealous glances at the chicken and hoped with all his might that they would have time for Ilya to make a second piece. He was working quickly, it was looking likely that he could. Shane was planning to write a message on the back and the silhouettes of some mountains on his own plate after putting time into a geometric border around the rim so he would need some extra time anyways.

“I just still can’t believe they would make Hughes the captain,” Hayden said while touching up his stripes. “That guy is so flat, like tremendous d-man but he doesn’t, to me, have that bite you need to be a captain. You need a guy that inspires outside of his play and he just doesn’t do that for me, at least he just seems so quiet and bland.”

“No, you’re definitely on to something,” Shane agreed. He had a sponge and was dabbing green around the floor of his scene, to look like foliage. “The guy looks like he’s in the middle of shock and panic eighty percent of the time. Maybe that’s just his face, I don’t know. But I look at the roster and other than Miller there’s like, no one else I could see fitting that bill. But Miller’s such a hothead, I can’t see that having worked out.”

“You guys sound like you’re podcaster bros,” Jackie chimed in amusedly from across the table, barely looking up from her colorful chicken. Ilya snorted. “Is that all you know how to talk about?”

Shane and Hayden looked at each other, trying to fight their grins.

“Hey, we just got through the entire offseason without-” Hayden defended before getting cut off.

“You barely made it through offseason without talking about hockey, and you were a mess during free agency, I remember,” Jackie threw in, a sly grin on her as she worked her paintbrush. “You almost rescheduled our one date because you were so distraught about Ekman-Larsson leaving and that the Canucks weren’t going after Tarasenko.”

“Daaamn, Hayden, you would really reschedule a date on our sweet Jackie because of hockey? Over free agency, not even actual game?” Ilya said. Hayden rolled his eyes. “Jackie I will be submitting your name for sainthood because you must be one to put up with him.”

“Alright, Rozanov,” Hayden snipped, his amusement starting to fade. Shane lightly tapped Ilya on the leg under the table.

“No, seriously you two are very good together, Shane and I are happy to be included in your couple stuff,” Ilya said, a cop-out of sorts to get Hayden out of the funk. “My plate is finished, I will be right back.” He slid away from the table and returned to the shelf of blank canvas ceramic pieces.

When Ilya sat back down, he had neither one of the animals he had seen originally. He set down a frog on the table, looking up at Shane through his eyelashes with a smile plastered across his face.

“Shanyechka, when you finish your plate will you help me paint frog? This is full frog by the way, none of your half frog lies,” Ilya teased, as if Shane hadn’t noticed this frog did in fact have legs compared to the sculpture at the metro terminal.

“I’d love to paint the full frog with you, baby,” Shane said, emphasizing ‘full’ to acknowledge the anatomical completeness of the ceramic figure. Hayden silently made a gag face at the pet name and Shane saw it from his peripheral, elbowing him. “I might be a few more minutes though so start and I’ll hop in when I’m done.”

Ilya began painting some abstract design on half of the frog, leaving the other half empty for Shane. It warmed his heart watching Ilya’s concentrated face, bottom lip tucked behind his teeth and brow furrowed to get his lines and shapes perfect, and then he realized he needed to get a move on his plate so he could finish and do his half of the frog.

A few minutes and a few strokes later, Shane stared down at his finished plate. At the last second he painted a gray line across the bottom in front of the mountains and tried to make a little white train on it. It was passable, a professional artist he was not. Ilya noticed him set the paintbrush down.

“Can I see?”

Shane nodded and passed the plate to Ilya’s waiting hand. Ilya’s face did the hard look of concentration again, taking in all the details.

“Flip it over,” Shane hinted. Ilya turned it to the back.

His lips moved, forming the words as he was reading them on the underside of the plate but not saying them aloud. His eyes rose to Shane’s, watching him in wait, with a hopeful smile.

Ilya, will you make our two train stations one?

“Are you asking…”

“Move in with me?”

“Shane…” Ilya blinked, wide-eyed. Shane reached out his hand, and Ilya gently took his fingers before Shane squeezed him with reassurance. “Of course, fuck… I love you. Let’s move in together.”

“I love you.”

Ilya set the plate down carefully and rose at the same time Shane did, meeting at the side of the table and slotting their lips together. They kept it PG, considerately.

“Oh my god you guys!” Jackie squealed, clapping her hands. “How exciting!”

—

Shane breathed a sigh of relief as he and Ilya walked with fingers intertwined into the gastropub a few blocks away from the pottery studio. They trailed behind Hayden and Jackie, already at the host stand putting their names in for a table, having stayed behind the car kissing sloppily until they remembered where they were. They couldn’t ditch for as badly as they wanted hands on each other, plus there was an entire train ride to wait on to get to either one of their places.

Ilya was going to be moving in with him.

For all the ways Ilya made Shane at ease, asking him to move in was the most nervous he’d been. There was not a scenario where Ilya would have said no, he predicted, but the butterflies settled in all the same, rattling around his ribcage until he heard confirmation out loud and not just in his mind.

Jackie was so excited for them, and really Hayden was too, but he played it off to stay consistent with his schtick of being annoying about Ilya. Shane could see the twinkle in his eye though, his friend was happy for them.

Shane ended up painting the frog in a similar style to Ilya’s but in different colors, so it looked unified but also reflected them individually. It was so cute that Ilya found the frog when he went back for his second piece, so they would always remember this day and where they were when they moved another step up along the ladder of their relationship. He couldn’t wait to take this next big step in their lives; how lucky was he to get to love Ilya and have Ilya love him back?

They left the ceramics at the studio to receive their final bake in the kiln, and in a few weeks they would be ready to be collected and taken home. Home. Shane was already visualizing a clear spot on his shelf for them to bring their frog ceramic into their home. Where they would sit on their couch and cuddle and kiss and watch their TV and cook and clean and sleep in their bed. Where Ilya would steal Shane’s clothes (which he already did) and Shane would steal Ilya’s but they wouldn’t get lost in closets and drawers kilometers across town, they would wash in the same machine and return to the same closets and drawers together.

Where they would leave the house at the same time and board the same train at Brentwood.

So it was great practice, a preview, when the night with Hayden and Jackie came to an end, to board the train from Coquitlam together and speed off towards home.

Chapter End Notes

i wrote a lot of this from my hotel room in pittsburgh before i went to a concert, you're welcome

it was raining so that was my excuse to write and i've also been to pittsburgh dozens of times. besides that the streets were filled with red sox fans and i needed to escape the horrors

Chapter 7

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya get stuck on the train.

Chapter Notes

A link if you care to listen while you read this one :)

There comes a time in one’s life where what started as a dream, a vision, a puzzle with scattered fragmented pieces, starts to assemble and take shape, the buildup to a happily ever after. The storybooks all tell of this, and while real life doesn’t always match the glittering wonderment of a fairytale from start to finish, love itself gets pretty close to that. 

Good love comes imperfectly, with peaks and valleys, pure bliss and its fair share of healthy disagreements. The lows come back to highs like the tide, sweeping up anyone in its path and letting them drift calmly, joyously, making all the collective moments in between worth it. It’s a battle leading to victory for each side, no surrender, just all-encompassing love as the grand prize.

Living together was the point in the jigsaw where it was starting to look like the complete picture from the box, just a few holes and gaps here and there. Occasionally the puzzle sat, waiting, below an argument about where this piece should go, I think this one matches over here, until finally a conclusion was reached to set the piece snugly into position. Good progress.

Ilya was released early from his lease when he very soon found another tenant to take over. It was bittersweet, leaving this place. His apartment was the first place he lived (apart from Svetlana’s before he could apply for tenancy) when he first came over to North America, the first place he could go to comfortably be himself without ridicule from his broken family, the first place he and Shane became intimate. It was the first place that felt like home before he knew what home could be.

He looked on at the empty floors and walls while Shane held his waist from behind, sniffling faintly in the tiny one-bedroom apartment that even such a small noise echoed through the barren space. Shane nuzzled his neck and squeezed his hips, placing soft kisses down the slope of his shoulder. The memories of this place wouldn’t leave when he walked out the door, they’d forever be with him, and he’d walk into Shane’s condo—their condo—to create a million more.

A lot of his things that he didn’t need to take with him he’d sold or donated. Shane had a fully stocked place and they didn’t anticipate needing duplicates of blenders, toasters, shelves or couches. Or beds. They only needed one of those. Anything else he couldn’t part with were either necessities like clothes or sentimental items like an upholstered armchair which Sveta helped him source from Facebook Marketplace, that had reminded him of his mother’s favorite reading chair from his old family home in Russia. Shane would make space for anything Ilya wanted though. He didn’t want Ilya to feel like he was moving into Shane’s place, he wanted Ilya to feel like he was simply adding to their space, together.

A small moving truck had been rented, and it was strange to Ilya to be in a road vehicle rather than the train. He probably could have moved everything via the train if not for the armchair, but then he remembered they’d have to lug all the other cases and boxes around the streets from the Brentwood station to the condo and that didn’t sound so fun. Not to mention the back and forth taking multiple trips on the train, because he certainly couldn’t monopolize the train as his personal PODS container. So a truck was helpful, and it allowed them to pull right up to their door.

Just for the ceremony, they dragged Ilya’s truck full of personal effects to the ceramics studio in Coquitlam to collect their fired works: the plates and the frog. It was a little out of the way but they already paid for the day’s rental, might as well get their money’s worth of it. Ilya liked the way Shane looked in the driver’s seat, profile flanked by the mountains to the North and the wind gusting through his hair from the open windows of the cab, one hand on the wheel and the other laced together with Ilya’s. Maybe he could see a car in their future, taking a long romantic drive somewhere. It would certainly open up their world, could take them places the SkyTrain did not reach. And Shane just looked that damn good behind the wheel. Ilya hoped to be able to get his drivers license someday too. But that was something for later. The train was theirs for now, and would probably always be special for what it did for them. They’d ride it out as long as they could, literally.

The vibrant, glossy painted frog sat in Ilya’s lap for the entire drive back home, carefully guarded by the palm of his hand. Shane assumed his same position at the wheel, latched on to Ilya’s hand between them. At the last red light before hitting the highway, he gazed tenderly over at Ilya, a soft excitement settling in his expression. He lifted Ilya’s hand to his lips, touching down with a firm press on his knuckles. Ilya felt his neck warm up to his cheeks, the buzzy feeling it lit in him still not getting old.

“Ready to go home?”

“Yes,” Ilya said, even though being with Shane was home enough, he was ready to be home. Ready to be in a home filled with love of the most genuine kind for the first time since he was twelve. Ready to climb into bed and wrap his arms around Shane without planning a time to return to an empty apartment the next day. Ready to see Shane in all hours of the light, all the shades of his moods, good and bad, and for Shane to see him in all those ways too.

They cruised along easily, air breezing throughout the cab. Traffic was light much of the way, though even if it had been bumper to bumper, Ilya was certain nothing could sour this feeling, their anticipation. The energy in the truck was sparkling, both more than ready for the big moment. Shane turned into his condominium complex and put the truck into park in front of their door with the hazards on. The ceramic frog was left in the passenger seat while they unloaded the bed of the truck.

It didn’t take long for boxes to get stacked in the living room, in the bedroom, piles of clothes finding empty hangers in the closet and lips finding each other as much as possible at every turn. Ilya wanted to unpack as much as he needed right away, the rest of his things would find their places in the coming days as he settled in. Cardboard boxes got broken down in the late afternoon and stuffed into the recycling bin outside.

Finally, the ceramics were grabbed from the cab when the rental company came to collect the truck. Shane took the plates to the cupboard and then met Ilya by his built-ins next to the TV. He had cleared a space near some of his books so the frog could sit and become a focal point among the other decor items, the first physical object symbolizing that this home was theirs. And Ilya lifted it to the shelf to take its place, the final brick laid in the foundation.

“Welcome home,” Shane said. His eyes drifted to Ilya, wet in the corners, with almost a tentativeness to his breath, a disbelief flashing across his face that Ilya was here, permanently. He fell speechless after.

Ilya soaked it in for a moment before bringing a hand up to Shane’s cheek. He rubbed his thumb in a soothing circle just ahead of Shane’s ear and closed the distance, mouths crashing frantically. Shane’s hands roamed to Ilya’s face to deepen the kiss, oxygen now the least important thing in the room. They trailed down and gripped Ilya’s shirt to tug him back to the couch. Along the hurried walk backwards they almost knocked the lamp on the side table over, so lost in each other they could destroy the place if they tried, two bulls in a china shop. Ilya spun them around until his legs hit the couch and Shane toppled over him onto the cushions, laughing at the shock of it until their lips slotted together again. Shane’s weight was firm on him. He could stay this way forever.

“Hi,” Shane broke the silence first, wide brown eyes drowning Ilya in admiration.

“Hi,” Ilya said back, grinning. He bit the side of his bottom lip, which made Shane grin back and give him another toothy peck.

“Is this normal behavior for roommates?” Shane asked, teasing.

“Only for roommates who are madly in love,” Ilya reasoned. “Which certainly is not us, so what do we do now?”

“Maybe we should fall in love,” Shane suggested, playing along. “It would be weird if we’re just kissing for no reason.”

“I agree,” Ilya breathed into Shane’s mouth, and then licked into him. “Good idea.”

“Oh my god, wait, I think I’m in love with you,” Shane expressed airily. Their mouths connected again.

“Good, because I am in love with you too. For very first time,” Ilya uttered. And again.

Suddenly Shane’s stomach growled, a ferocious noise to break up their pocket of silly flirty quiet. Shane barked out a laugh and his head fell into the crook of Ilya’s neck. Ilya’s laughter rumbled through his chest and jostled his boyfriend around on top of him.

“Think we should have dinner?”

Between the packing and driving and unpacking, neither had the energy left to cook, so they ordered from Shane’s favorite Italian place in town. Before long they were eating pasta (stealing bites from each other, of course), surrounded by the few boxes that were left to be emptied another day.

The first night was the start of new routines, kissing while their breath still tasted like garlic and tomato sauce, and rolling around under the covers. Legs tangled, hair mussed, skin on skin like they were starved for it. Shane laid out the comforter Ilya brought from his old place on the bed, the cucumber green color bringing some familiarity into this room he almost felt like he was invading until Shane loosened him up with words of reassurance and pure elation.

This was his too, now. Ilya belonged here.

He dozed off for the first of many many nights ahead with his arms wrapped tightly around Shane. Alarm set for work. Work now beginning from the Brentwood SkyTrain station. And the puzzle pieces had never felt more in place, never more like the whole picture than right now.

🚈🚈🚈🚈

Shane awoke in the dark bedroom to familiar arms wound around his frame, the garlic from their pasta still lingering from a sleeping Ilya’s open mouth behind him, too strong for a toothbrush and mouthwash to erase in one night. But, he’d happily take morning garlic breath any day of the week if he got to wake up like this every day. He’d even foregone his usual morning workout to just lay here and be held. The day before had been a whirlwind, and it took him a few seconds to remind himself that Ilya lived with him now. Ilya was here to stay. The Russian stirred against his back and exhaled a long hot breath when he stiffened outward in a stretch.

“G’d morning,” Ilya said sleepily. “Moya lyubov.” His arms took possession again and squeezed Shane’s abdomen. It sent a quake through his body, as if Ilya released an electric current straight into his bones.

“Good morning baby,” Shane said just as Ilya was planting a chaste kiss to his earlobe. “Want to call off work and stay here all day.”

“Yes, same, but everyone will know what we are up to if we do. Conveniently sick the day after moving in together.” Ilya chuckled at the end of that thought.

Ilya’s work knew because he had submitted change of address forms to HR and payroll with a very specific effective date of yesterday, and Shane’s colleagues knew because he told everyone the big news, regrettably. A wrench in the plans they didn’t know they would have but probably should have had the foresight for.

So up they rose to be contributing members of society instead of playing hooky to be bed goblins.

It was a little bit of a clumsy morning. They had never discussed how the morning would look when they both had to get ready for work at the same time. Showering together was kind of out of the question, considering they’d never be on time another day in their careers if they gave in to the opportunity that presented. Especially if they wanted to laze about in bed for a few minutes longer first, which they knew they’d do, and then had to share the bathroom, taking their pent up needs after cuddling into the spray of the water. They knocked elbows, stubbed toes walking around each other in the ensuite, the warm water in the shower didn’t last as long.

While it wasn’t necessarily bad, nothing was going smoothly.

Oh well, Shane thought. The first time a newborn foal tries to stand, its legs always buckle and it tumbles to the ground, but eventually it will learn to stand on its own gangly legs and get stronger and grow into a majestic creature. He and Ilya will get the hang of it, how they both flow together in this new togetherness. Shane was more grateful that he had a morning of mishaps with the person he loved instead of a lonely morning spent waiting to see Ilya for a limited twenty minutes on the train. One hard day wouldn’t spoil this life they were building, and Shane wouldn’t consider this hard anyways. Just an adjustment.

He left the bedroom after toweling off his hair to the smell of eggs wafting up the hall. Which reminded him they needed to go grocery shopping. He tried to keep snacks here for Ilya in the past but now every meal needed to be made for two, and he was pretty sure he didn’t have enough to last the week. Ilya found some spinach wraps in the fridge and rolled two breakfast burritos up to go, complete with chopped ham and cheddar. Shane was so lucky, and he thanked Ilya with a quick kiss and a verbal acknowledgement. They each took a bite shortly before walking out the door, and Shane led them to his favorite café on the way to the station to pick up their coffees.

Getting onboard the train car together offered them a decent pick of seats. Ilya looked like he won the lottery as he pressed his thigh closer to Shane’s and scarfed down his breakfast, sips of coffee in between to wash it down. No sooner did he finish was he linking arms with Shane and threading their fingers together for the ride. Shane’s heart fluttered and he leaned closer, Ilya planting his lips to his temple. It was wonderfully overwhelming, how in love he was. If he ever tired of this feeling, he was in trouble.

The workday brought congratulatory pats on the back and hugs from Shane’s colleagues who knew of Ilya. His elation was hard to mask, not that he wanted to, and the sentiment was returned, widespread. Rose and JJ brought him a little housewarming basket (or move-in-warming? was that a thing?) with some wine and fixings for a charcuterie board, Hayden feigned a begrudging congrats, lackluster as per his schtick. Though Hayden followed it with a wink and a slap on his shoulder, a sign he knew his friend was genuinely happy for him.

Shane wouldn’t have expected this reaction for a simple move-in. Everyone was treating it like an engagement, and maybe it might as well be given everyone knew how he and Ilya felt for each other, only the rings were absent. A giddiness built itself up in his gut that so many close to him believed in them like that, and he of course could envision that step for them in the future too, but with the move-in being so fresh he wanted this feeling now to last, to not rush to the next milestone. Hell, Ilya wasn’t even a citizen yet, just here on a sponsorship and a work visa. That was something else they had to navigate before any talks of marriage. For now all he desired was to savor this, be present, soak in the warmth of Ilya being near, being his, being loved.

Like most days, he was productive, only now as he worked through his daily tasks there was a new feeling humming under his skin he couldn’t put a name to, at least not one that would ever do this justice. An assurance perhaps enveloping him like a warm bath, that he was headed home to companionship, a cozy warm body, a full heart, however strangely foreign the concept still was in his brain. It was all he could think about, like he had to keep convincing himself it was real. Clocking out was something he was really looking forward to today.

The gift basket crinkled in his fist on the walk to the train station. Shane couldn’t wait to dive into it with Ilya, clinking a couple wine glasses together in celebration when they got home. Or save it for the weekend and have it for lunch. He did have a nice wheel of brie already at home he could bake with some of the pepper jelly that was in the basket. Or maybe they could have it for dinner that evening, since he reminded himself that groceries were still a necessity. So many possibilities!

He’d find out soon what the game plan would be because the train coasted in and Ilya was waiting for him behind the sliding doors.

🚈🚈🚈🚈

“My Ilyusha, I can’t believe you are growing up! You don’t need me to take care of you anymore,” Svetlana mock complained when she sat down at Ilya’s desk that afternoon. She had to run back to the office for some papers needed at the work site but Ilya suspected she just wanted to metaphorically pinch his cheeks and baby talk him like his mother-figure. “Seems like only yesterday you were sprouting forth from my arms into your first apartment and now you are in love and shacking up with your man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ilya returned, embarrassed and blushing at her sentiment, waving her off even though no one else knew Russian in the office. “I will be just as proud when it is your turn.”

“You’re sure I can’t have him?” she asked, turning a photo of Shane around on the desk. “He is so very handsome.”

“Yes,” Ilya chided. “I am sure. He is also so very gay. He’s already tried your type.”

“Men are always so disappointing,” Svetlana scoffed, without much seriousness. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with a pinch of her fingers.

“I can’t say I’ve had that experience.” Ilya grinned and Svetlana rolled her eyes with a chuckle before her jaw dropped at the next part. “Anyways, how about Cliff? He’s chiseled and manly, also employed and successful.” He was alluding to the last man she went on a Tinder date with who invited her home for the night, only to find his parents sitting on the couch watching Jeopardy! when they walked in the door. To say she high-tailed it out of there was no exaggeration.

“I am not fooling around with a coworker!”

“Why not?! It’s like you don’t even work here. You are always at the project sites, and he is a good man.” Svetlana shot him a look but didn’t argue further, dropping it to focus on Shane again. Ilya took that as a small win, if he planted the seed.

“You have big plans this evening? First full day of living together,” Svetlana said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Don’t be gross, Sveta. But yes, we probably will fuck. Then dinner. And fuck again and-”

“You are talking about sex in the workplace? I’m going to file a complaint,” Svetlana joked. She stood swiftly from her chair and lifted her fist like she was going to go knock on the HR rep’s door.

“Don’t you have a bunch of contractors to babysit?”

-

Ilya’s brow furrowed into intrigue when Shane crackled his way onto the metro with a big cellophane-covered basket in his grasp. Shane placed the basket under their seat with his work bag, greeting Ilya with a short kiss and he sat down beside him.

“Courtesy of Rose and JJ,” Shane informed him. “May need to be dinner tonight, we need to go grocery shopping.” Ilya rubbed against his kneecap with a thumb.

“Ah, can no longer live the life of a bachelor, goodbye cup noodles for one,” Ilya sang.

“You know I don’t eat cup noodles!”

“Not anymore,” Ilya laughed, and bumped his shoulder against Shane’s. “Should we make shopping list now, or do you want to see what we still have at home?”

The train lurched out of the station into the tunnel as Shane agreed to start the list now while they had time to kill, and they could cross-check the pantry at home later. Ilya pulled his notes app up on his phone, tapping away to write everything from chicken to bagels to salad blends, and everything in between for snacking, baking mixes for desserts, condiments and spices. And, one frozen pizza, Ilya’s guilty pleasure, for a night when they just wanted to take it easy, lay together on the couch with a movie.

They glided smoothly along the tracks, slowing prematurely of Renfrew. No one had noticed it at first except for Ilya and the other Renfrew commuters. Ilya still had the muscle memory, if you could call it that, that the spot where the train came to a stop was not normal. It was a calm deceleration, nothing to cause alarm like a screeching halt, but the trees surrounding the rail line gave it away to everyone else that they were in fact not at the next station.

People stood, looking through the windows to see if there was anything nearby causing a stoppage, or if the train simply malfunctioned. There was nothing but trees that the eye could see out either side of the carriage, the sky red from the earlier autumn sunset. A good few minutes passed before a PA announcement sounded in the car. It was a real person behind the message, not automated or pre-recorded. The train attendant must have gotten into the control booth in the other car, a woman’s voice came through tinny from the speakers in the train.

“SkyTrain riders, we’ve been notified that there has been a blockage on the track ahead. Service is suspended until emergency crews can safely clear the blockage. We will be organizing some buses to complete the route and further announcements will be made when the buses have arrived. We ask in the meantime that everyone remain seated. Thank you for your patience.”

“Shit,” Shane said when the announcement ended. Immediately the entire train began murmuring about what could have caused the tracks to get blocked. Some around them called friends or family to let them know they were running behind and to let them know if they heard anything about the incident. “I hope no one got hurt.”

Fellow passengers took to their phones, likely checking any site or social media that existed for news to have hit the web, too nosy for their own good, the need for instant gratification too great. All needed bragging rights to know what happened ahead of them on the track. It was understandable that people would be curious, invested in knowing because they needed to get home to take care of family, pets, get to late appointments or second jobs.

For Shane and Ilya, they had nowhere to be in a hurry, the only place that was calling them was home. Yeah, it would be nice to jump into bed but the bed was not running off anywhere if they ran behind. They decided that when (and if, let’s be real) the buses arrived they would stay on the train unless there was enough seats for everyone before them, just in case another passenger needed to get home for a more important reason.

And being on the train was kind of their thing.

So what? They could go grocery shopping at 10 PM, when the aisles were quiet and the lights dimmed, only them and the lonely cashier in the store. Dancing by the ketchup and kissing next to the freezer cases of ice cream. Ilya was pretty sure he could weasel his way inside Shane’s shirt and burrow there, clinging to him while he decided which granola he wanted. Neither would have to be worried about making a spectacle, their public PDA would be between them, God and the store’s security cameras.

As they sat quietly within the bubble of hushed comments and mildly agitated metro riders, Ilya let the romance of grocery shopping with his love cloud his mind and wondered what other mundane pieces of daily living they were going to get themselves up to in the future. He wanted to stand in line holding hands with Shane while they returned some lousy shirt at a department store. Walk through the display rooms at Ikea a thousand times and test the couches, the chairs, the kitchens. Take the car through the car wash and make out while the soapy suds cascaded down the windows (another reason they ought to get a car eventually). Decorate a tree at the holidays.

Ilya mindlessly trailed a finger up and down the outside of Shane’s thigh while his heart bloomed, Shane’s head resting on the sturdy round of his shoulder. The time of the stalled route hit the forty-five minute mark, so not super crazy, at least not in their perspective.

He loved these opportunities to mold together with Shane. Times when time itself forced them to slow down. The last day they had time like this that he could remember was on the gondola down from Grouse Mountain, except the countdown clock was a little more exact with how long that would last. With this, though they were only on the train and still going home together, the uncertainty of how long they would be stuck here, whether they would make one of the few buses coming, was the furthest thought from Ilya’s mind. Sitting here with Shane during this little commuting hiccup was the best time spent.

“Ladies and gentleman, we have two buses on the way,” the grainy train attendants voice chimed back in. “ETA is about twenty minutes and another bus about ten minutes after that. They are fifty-person coach buses, and we will be loading the buses by train carriage; please stay in your car until you are told to debark. The buses will make return trips as needed. We will be moving the train ahead to the grounded tracks to safely debark passengers when the bus arrives. Please stay seated during the relocation. Thank you again for your patience.”

“That was quicker than I expected,” Shane commented. Though, he didn’t budge, content to stay huddled against Ilya and his feather touches. Ilya hummed in agreement. The car hushed again for several minutes when someone sitting across the aisle muttered something loudly enough that Ilya tuned his ear in.

“The police scanner page says a driver lost control of their car,” a woman stated. “It slid down the embankment toward the rail line and stalled there. Crews are actively working on pulling the car out and the SkyTrain engineers will need to check the integrity of the tracks that it hit before Millennium Line service resumes. Other SkyTrain lines are unaffected.” Some more chatter sounded around them, people got phone calls from those they knew, checking on them if they had heard of the stoppage. Others, unbothered like Shane and Ilya, went back to scrolling idly while they waited.

Finally, an announcement was made that the buses were minutes away. The train inched forward off of the raised part of the line. Folks stood up and gathered near the doors, no different than at a gate in an airport when waiting for the boarding group before they’re called. Ilya and Shane stayed put, and soon enough they saw the carriage in front of them open with a steady stream of people debarking, guided up the grass to the street where the buses obviously had to be. The doors to their car slid open next and the huddled masses stepped out, leaving them with about three other people remaining in their seats at the far end of the train, smart to let the mad rush go first.

“What should we do now while we wait?” Ilya asked, a risqué tone laced in his voice, cheeky grin curling his lips. Shane lifted his head from rest and scoffed.

“Whatever you’re thinking, not that,” Shane replied, albeit grinning, knowing where Ilya’s mind was. “There’s still people here and there’s also CCTV. We only have about ten more minutes and that’s not enough time anyways.” Shane winked at him, Ilya’s signature move.

“I do not need ten minutes to do what I want to do,” Ilya said. He gave Shane two slow winks back.

“You’re awful.”

“Not what your dick would say about me.” Ilya wiggled his eyebrows. Shane’s eyes bulged and he became pink.

“Ilya!” Shane gave him a shove the intensity of a butterfly landing on a flower and burst out laughing, flopping onto Ilya’s chest.

“We could listen to music,” Ilya suggested when his own laughter stopped rumbling under his ribs.

“Yeah?”

Popping his AirPods out of the case, Ilya handed one to Shane and shoved the other into his own ear. He heard the chime of the Bluetooth connection and scrolled through his song library. On the list was a song he’d saved many moons ago, stumbling upon it serendipitously after he first caught Shane’s stare across the train. The memory of it had gotten lost in the whirlwind of life, week after week after week passing with more important things to be pursued. Ilya pushed his thumb down on the screen to select the track, “Beautiful Stranger” by Laufey. The song opened with the dreamy lull of a guitar, the vocalist humming her way into the first verse.

Beautiful stranger, sitting right there

Looked up at me and my dark curly hair

Looked back for a second, didn’t want to be rude

I tend to fall in love on the tube

Shane settled his head into the crook of Ilya’s neck, sighing happily to the soothing, heartwarming mood of the song. Ilya picked up Shane’s hand, raised it and pursed his lips against his fingertips, his chest tightening as he let the lyrics sink deep below his skin and take hold. He stood.

“Dance with me?” he asked, hand still lazily looped with Shane’s fingers, extended to where his boyfriend sat. Shane nodded, smiling lovingly and with a tiny bit of surprise twinkling in his eyes. Ilya hoisted him up off the seat, arm around his waist and their other hands clasped. He stepped closer to Shane and pulled him in, leading him to step in time and sway on the blue linoleum floor under the the lights of the train car.

Beautiful stranger, sitting right there

Reading the newspaper, stuck to his chair

I swore that he smiled and I felt my heart drop

Heard the doors open, came to my stop

Outside the train, dusk had set in, the couple passengers left with them forgotten about. For all they were concerned, they were the only riders still on the train, the only people in the world. Ilya placed a kiss on the side of Shane’s neck, the slow twirl of their dance dizzying, inflating his heart ten sizes too big for his body, his pulse beating through every vein like a drum. Shane’s cheek pressed against his ear and Ilya could hear his pulse thrumming with the exact same ferocity. The love between them too strong for their bodies to operate at any baseline level, the force of magnetism too powerful that their hearts got too excited when they were this close.

What if I hadn’t left the train

At Ladbroke Grove, would I know his name?

Maybe we would have exchanged a few words

A fairytale moment could have occurred

But my beautiful stranger will have to remain

A stranger until I see him again

See him again

The song was the only sound touching their ears. Despite having one AirPod apiece, it flooded their entire bodies with its tender melody, the sweeping soft strings and piano accompaniment, delicate notes and lyrics etching the emotion of the song into goosebumps across their skin. Shane rested his forehead on Ilya’s collarbone, falling deeper into relaxation, Ilya his safety net, his rock, the clumsiness of the morning far behind them. If they stayed this close always, it would not be enough time.

Beautiful stranger, catching my stare

It’s fate we collided right then back there

I wonder if he felt the same thing too

Innocent crush on the morning commute

Ilya felt his eyes well up with tears as the emotion layered to a peak. The first time he heard this song he had no idea he would grab it and run with it, falling head-first into his own love story. He had no expectations barging into Breka that spring day that the man he had been secretly (not-so-secretly) eyeing up would be sitting there, Ilya’s lost wallet in his hand but a mutual interest found, sitting in his brain and dripping down into the core of him, the makings of true love waiting to be unearthed like some kind of rare archeological find. Their feet hit the pavement and they took off running when they finally exchanged phone numbers, and neither had looked back on what came before the other because frankly it was no longer important. All they could see was each other, and that’s exactly what they wanted. And since, the love was growing every day to an unbelievable, unimaginable size, Ilya hardly took a moment to actually sit and grasp that, because it was too big for him to wrap his head around. But with Shane holding on to him here, their two bodies became one and gave him the capacity to try. What he felt during this song, their dance, it spilled over, too much for his cup. He kissed Shane’s hair, leaving behind the salty droplets that escaped from his eyes and held him tighter.

What if I would have stayed on the train?

Dared to stand up and ask for his name?

Maybe we would have exchanged a few words

A fairytale moment could have occurred

But my beautiful stranger will have to remain

A stranger until I see him again

See him again

Thinking back, Ilya’s only mistake was not talking to Shane that first time they sat across from each other. His heart ached that they could have remained strangers, if not for him losing his wallet and falling into the right hands. Would he have gotten this fairytale moment if not for that? They were slow-dancing on the SkyTrain for God’s sake but it was a fairytale all the same, they were the main characters in this moment. Maybe a little out of order, with true love’s kiss out of the way months ago and no threat of a clock striking midnight, the train would not turn into a pumpkin and the glass slipper—the wallet—already returned to whom it belonged in the first chapter.

My beautiful stranger will have to remain

A love that came and left with this train

My beautiful stranger.

Shane had once came and left with the train, home to his own separate life that hadn’t known Ilya, hadn’t found the person to fit the shape of the empty space beside him. Ilya had too, and he was never happier than with the thought that eventually they came back to the train and left one day… together. A love that came and stayed from this train. Ilya’s Shane and Shane’s Ilya, once beautiful strangers. Forever madly and deeply in love with each other.

The song concluded with a few plucks of the guitar and they stilled, inhaling one another, staying close. Shane lifted his head first, doe eyes glistening and eyelashes wet like the song had done him in too and he met Ilya’s soggy stare, lips parted. Ilya sniffled and cupped Shane’s cheek, wiping a runaway tear off the cloud of freckles he adored, smiling fondly.

”I love you,” Shane whispered. “So much.”

”I love you too,” Ilya said, a bit croaky. “I’m so lucky.”

When they leaned in for a kiss, the train attendant’s voice spilled into their ears, the sounds of the train returning in a wave, and the last bus had arrived to take them home.

Chapter End Notes

weee wooooo i need ambulance my heart stopped because i love them so bad

anyone wanna fall in love on the train w me

only one chapter left🥹 see y’all soon

russian translation:
moya lyubov - my love

Chapter 8

Chapter Summary

Ilya asks a question.

Chapter Notes

well here we have it folks :') the finale

This chapter uses a work skin!

A year and a half later

It’s kind of funny, how the unintentional crossing of paths can turn out to be one of the most monumental moments of your life. Whether passing on the sidewalk, eyeing a beautiful stranger from across the bar, sitting next to someone on an airplane, or in Shane’s case, riding the commuter train, anyone can drop into your life and change its course for the better.

Had Shane not deviated away from his usual seat in his usual car, those golden curls would not have fallen into his lap. That body dotted with moles like the stars in the sky would not be holding him close every night. Those blue eyes flecked with dreamy greens and earthy browns would not gaze upon him and flood his heart with devotion, those heart-shaped lips would not consume him with all the hunger they possessed. The heart that lay within Ilya’s chest would not be his.

His usual train car had been filled on purpose, by divine intervention, a push and a signal to meet the person that was to be his, though he didn’t know it at the time. The universe watched them steal glances at each other day after day and they still hadn’t caught on. So, whoever or whatever was nudging them yanked the wallet from Ilya’s back pocket, dropping it right in front of Shane like a carrot dangling in front of a horse, because apparently the forces that be needed it to make their hints as obvious as possible without the two men literally running into each other. Running into each other would have probably been a last resort if that ploy hadn’t worked.

Shane could see how obvious the universe had been looking back now, and while nothing could be done now about their sloth-like speed to finally introduce themselves, he planned to not waste another second of loving Ilya now that he had him. The I-love-yous, the move-in, everything in between had moved fast over the course of one cycle of seasons in that first year, but they were already destined for this life together and determined to have it. There was no other way he could picture his life now, didn’t want to entertain an alternative, even at their lowest moments.

Ilya was a literal dream come true, somehow plucked from another country across the world and put on a plane to Vancouver. Out of any city, any province, any country, he was brought here. The wheels already in motion long before the SkyTrain worked its magic.

Shane wracked his brain to determine any one moment in his life from birth until meeting Ilya, searching for something good he must have done to deserve everything he had now. He had simply lived his life, and tried to be good at every turn, but to his memory there was nothing outstanding enough where the universe would have rewarded him so generously.

As the two settled into life together, they worked on projects around the condo, repainting walls and installing new light fixtures, redoing bathrooms and rearranging furniture, bringing character into a residence of two—Hollander and Rozanov—that was once designed solely for Hollander. They traveled near and far, visiting Banff, Shane’s parents back home (who were of course smitten with Ilya immediately), Portugal, and had an ever-growing list of trips to come. They had quiet days where they just existed together, scrolling on phones and meeting in the hallway with light touches as they went about their time. There were lazy days where they stayed in bed, no interest in looking outside when they had the best view in front of them, busy days where they couldn’t wait to walk out the front door to do whatever and didn’t return until the sun was down.

During the previous winter Shane was caught scrolling through an animal rescue website after Ilya had mentioned how nice it could be to have a little furry body curled up against them on cold nights someday. Shane was promptly attacked with wild kisses all over his face, and that’s how he ended up getting attacked by double the amount of wild kisses every day when he and Ilya got home from work with the addition of a wet tongue and four paws and a tail that never quit. Previously empty corners of the condo were now purposeful, littered with tennis balls and stuffy toys and a water bowl, a dog bed in their bedroom (seldom used when Ilya started a puppy slumber party in their own bed), the coat hooks in the laundry room becoming home to a dangling leash and cupboard space cleared for treats and a bag of kibble. At the center of their world now: Anya, a hound mix with ears that weren’t sure if they wanted to flop down or stick out like antennas, splotchy black and brown face and snow white belly, and absolutely perfect.

Anya went to a dog daycare nearby a few days a week, and her elation when her dads collected her was nothing short of insane. They took her together to training classes, always in competition to see who she’d listen to more, and she was responsive to both but at times gravitated toward Ilya. Shane teased him that she only liked him more because he bribed her affection with “forbidden” treats at home like hot dogs, but Ilya was down on her level a lot more, rolling around on the carpet and roughhousing and playing hide and seek, and he knew their bond was just natural. Several times, though, Shane had woken in bed to a small head tucked into his armpit, Anya snuggled between them after she fully transitioned into her forever home, and he knew she loved him just as much as she did Ilya. Apart from that, Shane looked forward to the warmer weather coming back for outside walks, hikes, and games of fetch so Ilya could really launch the ball further than the short distance of their living room. Winter was making them all eager for a new season.

Shane had gotten in touch with an immigration lawyer a few months before Anya came into their lives. He received some valuable guidance and resources to help Ilya obtain citizenship, made easier by the extended documented proof of their committed relationship since they shared an address for well over a year and had Instagram accounts filled with evidence of their life together. Ilya sobbed, overflowing with gratitude and more love than he thought he could ever feel, seeing Shane go to such lengths to prove he wanted Ilya and wanted him to remain safely in Canada. Shane held him close and kissed away his tears that night when he shared the wealth of information he’d been given, promising him forever as long as Ilya wanted the same.

Shane would promise Ilya anything he ever wanted. He’d give Ilya everything simply for loving him.

🚈🚈🚈🚈

Ilya had trouble sneaking off on a special errand at the beginning of the new year. Planning surprises took extra effort since Shane migrated their calendars together, containing lawyer meetings, wellness appointments, work schedules, Anya’s schedule. Shane was very thorough, that was for sure.

Fortunately, their financial accounts were still handled individually, and Ilya had been putting aside some money every payday into a secondary savings account he opened for special circumstances (Shane would prefer him to have a separate account for emergencies, but fun money was the focus for now. Ilya hopefully only had to make this particular purchase one time anyways). Occasionally on a lunch break over the last few weeks he had ventured out of the office to some jewelry stores, eyeing up bands and designs and most importantly, price tags, while his money was still growing in the account. Once he had a comfortable number staring back at him on his statement, he had to hatch a plan to get out of the house without Shane.

Ilya couldn’t say he was going out to get fresh air, or to take Anya on an icy stroll around the block, because the cold was too bitter for those activities to last long enough for him to disappear if he were going to do that for real. He thought about a run to the grocery store, but Shane would think of ten things they needed and offer to go with. A doctor appointment could work, but again, Shane had all their appointments logged in the shared calendar. If there was a way to spring it on him….

“Shane?” Anya clicked her nails on the hardwood and trotted over despite not being called, lifting her chin for Ilya to scratch after she bumped into his shin. Just a pup wanting attention.

“Yeah, baby?” Shane was in the laundry room and he emerged into the kitchen. The washer rumbled to life in the background.

“I have to run out. I, uh, I have to go see my doctor.” Ilya stood there trying to look ill, awkwardly, hoping he looked convincing enough.

“Everything okay? I didn’t think you had an appointment today. Are you sick?”

“I think my migraines are coming back. I called for my prescription but they want to see me.” He scratched his arm.

“Alright, yeah,” Shane sighed. “I thought they might be, you’ve been acting kind of like before when you had them. I’ll add magnesium to the shopping list too, that might help.”

“Thank you. I will text when I am coming home, Shanya.” He crossed the kitchen and pecked Shane on the side of his mouth. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Ilya walked to the train station after he locked the door behind him, giddy smile spreading over his face, the feeling unfurling through his entire being as he headed into the city. He called in a refill of his migraine prescription even though he had plenty left, just to add legitimacy to the ruse.

All of this started at a New Year’s party, as he fixated upon Shane while the clock ticked down. This was their second New Year’s together, second spent at Troy’s house. Through all that Shane had done for Ilya in the past year, and even beyond that, the desire to level the playing field—something they hadn’t tallied since early on in their flirting days—clicked into place and stayed firmly lodged in his head in the week following. He knew proposing was inevitable, since he had been saving for a while, and for whatever reason Troy’s party gave him the push to act. Looking down at Shane in his arms during the final stretch of seconds in the year, Ilya only saw everything he never thought he could have, everything he almost didn’t have, and everything he never wanted to let go of.

Ilya knew a ring wasn’t about the money spent, it was about the person receiving it and the meaning behind it, and still he wanted Shane to have the best. A ring to add to the beauty he already possessed in spades, not to outshine him. Glittering like his eyes, sparkling like his freckles, polished and classic and sturdy. He pored over the display cases in the one jewelry store he’d found on his many lunch break outings, gradually zoning in on the white gold because of how the color complimented Shane. Shane wasn’t a big jewelry guy however the small collection of pieces he had for getting gussied up were all silver or white gold, and Ilya always spent too much time ogling him before they left the house. The icy hues were made for him.

And before long, there it was. He found the perfect one.

On the train ride back to Brentwood he turned the gears in his brain to plan how to propose. He didn’t want cheesy, nothing predictable that seemed like he put little thought into this. This was for Shane, it could not be anything run-of-the-mill, because Shane was not run-of-the-mill to Ilya. He was exceptional.

The answer was staring him in the face when he exited the train: a string of placard advertisement windows on the divider between each side of the track. Conveniently, one small window off to the side read “Your Ad Here” with contact information for the city’s tourism bureau’s marketing department. Before he trekked home, he snapped a photo of the info on his phone.

When Ilya walked through the door again, Shane asked some questions about his “appointment” and he tossed his medicine refill on the counter, the ring in a velvet box tucked safely in his messenger bag. Ilya was going to sit quietly on his plan until he was back to work, Shane none the wiser. He could not risk a leak at home. He knelt to the floor when Anya scrabbled out of the back room, sitting politely at his feet and tail dusting the floor, scratching behind her ears and getting licks on his chin.

“Anya, my sweetest baby, were you so good for Shanyechka while I was gone?”

—

The first thing Ilya did when he logged into his work email was start a draft to the city email he obtained. He didn’t know who to address it to, or what all he should say. With English being his second language, it was difficult for him to write as eloquently as he wanted, but he put forth his best attempt and hoped someone might respond.

Hello,

My name is Ilya Rozanov. I live in Burnaby and my partner, Shane, and I are daily riders of the SkyTrain. We met on the train two years ago. We fell in love on the train, and I am going to ask him to marry me. To me, there is nothing more perfect than using the SkyTrain to do this. I am not sure if this is possible, but I would like to pay for advertisement space at our home station in Brentwood to ask the question. The anniversary of when we first met is 24 March and I would like to propose on that day, which if you can help me maybe gives enough time to do this since it is over two months from now. Thank you for reading my email, if this reaches anyone. Even if you are not able to help, I want you to know how special the SkyTrain is to me because it brought me to the love of my life. One commute at a time. I am forever thankful.

Best,

Ilya

The email swooshed to his outbox, eventually sent. Periodically over the rest of the day he kept refreshing his messages, checking his junk mailbox in case his stupid company email filters blocked the reply, though he knew better than to expect a same-day response. But now that that was out there, it was even more real, and the anticipation was eating away at him. He didn’t have a plan B if they said no, deep down he felt that this would all work out. Until he saw it in writing, he tried to steer away from predicting the outcome in his mind.

Six painstaking days had gone by without a response from the city before a ping sounded on Ilya’s late lunch break. He expected it to be a new project, with Sveta telling him about another building the company purchased, but the end of the sender address on the message preview read ‘@vancouver.ca’ when he maximized his email window, covering his new desktop background of him, Shane, and Anya snuggled on the couch. Throwing his sandwich on the desk, he latched onto the mouse and frantically clicked on the message.

Ilya wasn’t halfway through reading the response and his eyes already were welling up. Not only did the city agree to help, but they would gift him the custom banners for that day. Ilya’s story had made its rounds throughout several departments and the city employees were thrilled for him, loved the love that was born on their public transit system. One thing Ilya hadn’t thought of was that the city might want to use this as a promotional opportunity for the SkyTrain services but thankfully there was no such mention, he wanted to keep this moment just for him and Shane. Maybe they understood that without mention.

So the date was set, Ilya provided Shane’s name and the message he wanted to the city for preparation. He ended up changing the location to his old station at Renfrew, getting Svetlana in on it to invite them for dinner that day and the sign would be unveiled when the train left for the next depot after they got off. He would reserve a table instead at his favorite restaurant near his old place (no offense to Sveta, but he didn’t want to spend the night he got engaged with her and wouldn’t dream of dragging a third wheel into his and Shane’s night) for after the big question.

Now, he just needed to make it to March 24th without his mouth slipping, or without losing his patience and just doing the damn thing ASAP because he loved Shane too deeply, sending his whole plan to waste.

🚈🚈🚈🚈

Two months later

“Sveta is having a dinner party next week, she invited us,” Ilya called from the bathroom. Shane walked in and leaned on the doorjamb, Anya following behind him like a shadow. Ilya stood in front of the mirror, streaks of white across his face, razor in one hand and phone in the other. “The 24th. Want to go?”

“On Sunday? That’s different for Sveta, but yeah, we can go,” Shane chuckled. Sveta specifically was not known for having company on Sundays, it was her unwind day after going out with her girls on Fridays and Saturdays.

“Yes, she is maturing now like us, new ball and chain,” Ilya said, wiping his face clear with a wet cloth. Shane half scoffed, half laughed. “She finally bit bullet with Cliff and wants to get everybody together.”

“You’re calling me your ball and chain?” Shane asked incredulously, with a grin. Ilya turned and stalked toward Shane, capturing him in his arms.

“Yes, I am, moya lyubov, and I do not want to be set free,” he said low and gravelly, hand slinking up to the back of Shane’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. Anya barked.

“Okay baby yes, kiss for you too,” Ilya cooed. Shane crouched down with Ilya to kiss the pup on each side of her head, ruffling her ears. “Ready to go to daycare?” Anya yipped and left them, running to the front door.

—

By mid-week, Shane noticed Ilya was quieter around the house. Not withdrawn, not avoidant, but not loud and boisterous like he was known to be. His eyes lingered on Shane longer, a sappy happiness twinkling in them, silently observing like Shane was at risk of evaporating, disappearing into thin air. He was gentler in bed, less physical and more vocal with deep profound declarations in Russian as he revered Shane and took the utmost care of his body, affection seeping from his pores and dripping from his mouth and fingers like sweet syrup. Ilya was doing a lot more speaking in Russian when he did talk, and though Shane had started learning recently it was spoken too lightly or quickly for him to try to translate.

Shane cuddled him longer, thinking he just needed some extra loving. He was always attentive to Ilya’s moods, especially if his mother was on his mind, and planted himself firmly in the ground to hold Ilya up. He asked Ilya several times if he was okay, and the answer was always either Yes, my love or Always, with you. He scooted away from work to treat Ilya to a coffee date at Breka around lunchtime a couple days, finding delight in their quiet corner of the café while bossa nova played overhead.

At home, in the closet, Ilya had hung an outfit he told Shane not to move, it was for Sunday. A satin olive button-down, black pants, black loafers. It was a little weird for Ilya to pick out something so specific when they were only going to a dinner party with friends. Shane left it as he’d been asked and decided to pick something out as well for himself, and then went about his evening.

Sunday arrived at long last. Shane awoke to a hollow dip in the mattress next to him, comforter wrinkled and askew. Anya was gone too, probably taken outside by Ilya for morning sniffs and potty. When he rose from bed, he looked out the window and they were not in the yard. Shane made the bed before padding downstairs, calling to them, only meeting more silence and not a trace of either one of his loves. The leash was gone from the laundry room, maybe they went around the block with the mornings looking more like spring. There were no dishes in the sink so he hadn’t eaten yet, it seemed. Shane whipped up some scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. He was flipping the strips in the pan when the front door clicked and Anya ran in, carrying her leash in her mouth, and Ilya’s hands took ownership of his waist.

“Good morning,” Ilya murmured, leaving a splatter of kisses across the back of Shane’s neck.

“Good morning,” Shane returned. “Thank you for taking Anya out.”

“You were still snoring away. I wanted you to sleep, moy krasivyy.” Shane hummed and leaned into him.

“So for later,” Shane began, as Ilya backed away and leaned on the adjacent counter. “Does Svetlana need us to bring something? You haven’t really told me anything.”

“Ah, no. Sveta has it handled, she just needs us to show up.”

“Is she sure? Not even a bottle of wine? I feel weird showing up empty handed.”

“Is that another thing you got from your mother? Other than your looks?” Shane grinned, blushing. “Being a good party guest?”

“I mean, yeah, but-” he started with a short laugh.

“Sveta has it covered, I promise you,” Ilya cut him off, returning to Shane’s side and kissing his neck. “She will love to know you are so considerate. It is also one of the many reasons I love you.”

Shane wasn’t sure why, but the day moved by slowly. On days they didn’t do much, usually that was when the time flew, but the hour when they would mosey over to Sveta’s party was taking its sweet time to arrive. Ilya barely ate his lunch, adamant on not filling up before hors d’oeuvres and dinner. They took Anya for another walk in the early afternoon before showering, and finally it was time to get ready.

Shane checked himself in the mirror, adjusting the hems of the sleeves on his heather gray suit coat. He put on a matching gray pant and a thin white shirt underneath, tucked into his waistband, knowing he’d probably get hot in a room full of people and he wouldn’t be stuck dying in the blazer. On his wrist he clasped his favorite watch, polished silver, reflecting the light in the bedroom and projecting little stars onto the ceiling. Ilya emerged from the bathroom in his satin shirt, a couple buttons undone from the top, the bottom loosely tucked into his slacks. The gold chain and Orthodox pendant he wears every day lay nested in the middle of his chest. He looked so good, and Shane thought he’d like to get him out of those clothes later to see what’s underneath (even though he already knew).

Ilya ushered Shane to the stairs and stayed behind for a moment before meeting him at the bottom. A hand was in his pants pocket, the other reaching out to take Shane’s hand and tenderly press his lips to the knuckles. Shane could feel his cheeks heating from the extra affection, and he was curious to why but rolled with it. They bid Anya goodbye for the evening and locked up.

Expressing himself was never one of Ilya’s weaknesses. Even when he still struggled to find his way in English, he was never shy about making Shane know how he was feeling and to what degree, especially when it came to his love for Shane. This was one of the things about Ilya Shane loved the most, because after fleeing from a country and being raised in a culture that frowned upon their relationship (that’s putting it mildly) hadn’t made him hide away. Everything Shane wanted was to give Ilya the space to feel comfortable and be open, and Ilya ran, unrestrained with it.

The train was mostly empty, like the night they danced together under the dimming fluorescents of their stalled evening commute, and they sat down for the short journey to Renfrew. Ilya took Shane’s hand into his lap, toying with his fingers idly and his other hand still cemented in his pocket. He beamed down at Shane once before the corners of his eyes glittered just so faintly that he looked away, squeezing Shane’s hand twice.

“Hey, I love you,” Shane said softly, feeling a slight concern tug at his eyebrows. “Everything okay?”

“Always, with you.” There it was again. Shane squeezed back.

They sat quietly and contentedly until the train slowed at Renfrew, and Ilya let Shane walk a couple steps ahead. A few people milled about on the opposite platform, waiting for the outbound train. Shane shook his arms to straighten out his jacket from being scrunched up against the seat back.

“Shane.”

When he turned around, the train chimed and took off and Ilya stood in place, looking at Shane fondly for a few moments.

“Ilya?”

Ilya stepped toward him, arm outstretched for Shane to take.

“Can I say something before we go?” Shane’s eyes darted nervously over Ilya’s face, who still looked calm and confident before him.

“Of course.” He gulped, feeling his next breath hitch. Was this…. Ilya’s eyes welled with tears at an alarming rate. When he began to speak, his voice cracked.

“Meeting you has been the pinnacle of my life, Shane. I never imagined having a life like this, and you gave it to me. You give me love every day that I have struggled to feel like I deserve, but when I see you the doubt disappears and I want to give you everything back and more.

“I only regret not approaching you that first time you showed up and sat across the aisle from me, but I do not want to dwell on that because I would not trade what we have for anything. I love you so much I feel crazy, I am crazy for you, I will always be crazy for you, I feel in my heart. You get me, we get each other, and no one has ever made me feel so wanted, so important, and so safe. I always hope I show you just the same and I never want you to go a single day where you do not feel that from me.

“I want to climb every mountain with only you. I want to look at beautiful art and walk through museums with only you. I want to start a family with you, I want to wake up every day and see only you looking back at me, for the rest of my life and beyond. I would not stop loving you even after our bodies stop working.

“We built such a beautiful life together, me and my beautiful stranger from the train, and you have done so much for me that I need to, how you say, level the playing field, because I cannot go another day without giving you something in return.”

Shane choked on a giggle, looking away to gather himself. Of course Ilya would pull that one out of their history book.

“The train was the reason we met, today two years ago, and I want the train to help us one more time as we step into our future. So, look behind me.”

Shane didn’t want to lift his gaze from Ilya, looking so ethereal as he was, eyes bright and longing, but he did, and his eye caught his own name on the span of advertisement placards where the train once sat. He tried to focus his eyes as he read across the boards, made difficult by his own watery vision, Shane, will you-

“Shane, will you marry me?”

Shane’s chest was about to explode. Ilya was no longer at eye-level, now down on one knee when Shane looked back. The hand that had been glued to his pocket all night had emerged, cradling an open velvet box with the most gorgeous white gold band nested inside, threaded by a light blue gemstone inlay. Ilya really knew him, it was simple but bold, classic and not ostentatious. He couldn’t wait to wear it on his finger.

“Yes, oh my god, fuck, Ilya,” he cried, falling forward into Ilya’s arms. His hands found Ilya’s face as he was caught, lips meeting in a fiery passion, fingers threading through hair, remaining connected until a breath was needed. Shane was never so certain of anything in his life as he reiterated, “Yes! Yes, Ilya!”

Ilya’s wet eyes met his in relief as he freed the ring from the box and slipped it onto Shane’s finger, whispering infinite I love yous. They kissed again, or tried, because their grins stretched ear to ear and would not give, and Shane held Ilya with all the force he could muster. They swayed on the platform, not eager in the slightest to let go.

“Do we still have to go to the dinner party?” Shane asked with a slight apprehension. Ilya wiggled his eyebrows.

“There is no dinner party,” Ilya confessed, and Shane sighed and kissed his cheek in thanks. “But we do have a reservation to make.”

“Good, because I don’t want to share you with anyone else tonight. You’re mine, Ilya Rozanov.” Shane brushed back some curls from his forehead, love and excitement bubbling up when he felt Ilya’s hairs catch in his ring at the same time watched it sparkle in the light of the terminal.

“It is you, actually, who is mine, Shane Hollander. I put a ring on it.” The sassy, boisterous Ilya was back, and Shane realized he had been reserved this week from the nerves of the proposal. Shane rolled his eyes as Ilya gently grabbed his chin.

“Okay, yeah, you win this round,” Shane conceded before Ilya captured his mouth again.

“Is there another round to win? We are even now, no?” Ilya asked against his lips.

“I bet I can surprise you, Rozanov.”

“You are on, Hollander.”

Shane snapped a photo of the placard signs with his and Ilya’s hands intertwined, the ring proudly on display in the foreground, for himself, but also to send to his parents and friends. Probably in the morning. He didn’t need his phone blowing up all night. He held on to Ilya as they looked upon the message for a few more extended moments, and the very, very good shock of it was setting in now, lingering long enough that the next train could be felt rumbling into the station before the sign disappeared behind it.

As they walked to the restaurant, hand in hand, Shane closed his eyes for a spell and let himself be led by Ilya, head turned up toward the dark sky and thanking his lucky stars for leading them both down this path to each other. Or, more appropriately, down these tracks. They were seated at a table for two, candlelight illuminating Ilya’s angelic features across from him, taking this finally as the sign that he did everything right and Ilya was in fact his greatest reward.

Shane’s beautiful stranger was going to become his husband. The warmth that he felt inside at this notion was not enough to combat the chill of the March night, and they had but one place to go to warm up for a bit. Rounding the top of the stairs to the platform, Ilya and Shane were faced with a surprise message on the wall behind the tracks: Congrats Shane and Ilya! Love, your SkyTrain family. The two got misty-eyed, and this time Ilya got a photo of Shane kissing his cheek in front of the sign so Ilya could include it in his thank-you to the city.

For all the near misses, the stolen looks across the aisle, the fact Shane would have never taken the SkyTrain in the first place had he not ditched his car, he was so fortunate to be with Ilya where they belonged now. Together, huddled up in a familiar train car on a hard plastic bench seat, the twinkling lights of Vancouver darting past them and dancing off Shane’s ring, headed home. Forever, the newest stop on their route.

Shane didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Chapter End Notes

ROLL CREDITS

shane’s outfit inspo was hudson pre-oscar party and ilya’s was connor snl end credits

thank you all for coming on this journey and dealing with my sporadic postings, i just loved this story so much i wanted to get it out as soon as it was ready

i loved reading all your comments and so appreciate everyone who left one, and even anyone who wasn't able to leave one but took the time to read my writing or reach out in twitter, thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart, this was such a special one

now time to catch up on fic reading hehe - 8/28 update: immediately brainstormed a new fic idea so the lie detector determined that was a lie

new york’s hottest club is heated rivalry and all its AU’s

russian translation:
малыш (malysh) - baby
moy krasivyy - my beautiful