Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warnings:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Anya | Ilya Rozanov's Dog, Original Characters

Additional Tags:

Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Married Life, Autistic Shane Hollander, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Travel, Road Trips, Slice of Life, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Comedy, Dramedy, Chicago (City), New Orleans, Texas, California, Portland Oregon, Smut, Erotica, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Ilya Rozanov is a Menace, Soft Ilya Rozanov, POV Shane Hollander, wine drunk, Drunk Shane Hollander, Drunk Ilya Rozanov, Bottom Ilya Rozanov, Cave Adventures, Stolen Kisses, Happy Ending, Family, joy, Love, True Love

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-11 Completed: 2026-08-03 Words: 64,029 Chapters: 15/15

Plans Subject to Shane

Summary

After two decades together and a lifetime built around hockey, Shane has exactly one goal for their first vacation after retirement: Executing the perfect road trip.

He’s planned every hotel, every restaurant, every scenic stop, and enough contingency plans to survive a natural disaster.

Ilya’s contribution consists of one backpack, a passport, and an unwavering commitment to ignoring at least half Shane’s itenerary.

As they make their way from New Orleans to Portland, the best memories are the ones Shane never planned for.

Notes

Chapter 1: Tab 1: Destination - New Orleans

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: Penthouse in the Sky by Goldie Boutilier

Shane was nervous. And excited. But mostly nervous. The bags were packed. The binder with their entire itinerary, reservations, pit stops suggestions, tourist stops to make, and more, sat shining and crisp was safely tucked in his backpack. Shane was itching to get it open on the plane and double check everything for their 3-week road trip across half of the continental US. Maybe at the airport.

Or maybe double check it now.

Quietly, Shane pulled the binder out and began to flip through it to double check (ok, quadruple check) that their flight times were actually 8AM and that they would get to the airport on time. Ilya, had of course, made fun of Shane relentlessly for this stupid and boring binder, but Shane knew that keeping them on schedule would maximize their vacation time. Leaving this trip up to Ilya would only result in no hotel reservations, no cars, no ideas of where to go. Shane wasn’t willing to let their first vacation post-retirement be left in Ilya’s chaotic hands.

Thumbing through today’s itinerary made this trip seem easy enough. First a flight to New Orleans that first stopped in Chicago. After a couple of nights in New Orleans, they would make their way to Austin, then out to west Texas to experience what Ilya called ‘the authentic cowboy experience’. From there, they would go to Santa Fe, the Grand Canyon, up to Salt Lake City, and then finally, end their journey in Portland. In total, if they stayed exactly to schedule, they would take 24 days to complete their journey.

Shane heard Ilya fumbling his way downstairs. A 5AM wake-up call was never how Ilya wanted to start his day so before Ilya could even let out his first yawn after walking into the kitchen, Shane shoved a cup of espresso into his hand.

“Ok, are you going to shower before we leave? If so, do it now, no more than 5 minutes. Doing only carry-ons buys us some time, but we need to be wheels on the ground in 30 minutes to get to the airport by 6AM. That will give us plenty of time to get through security and get to our seats. It’s a short flight to Chicago and our flight to New Orleans isn’t until 5PM, so I figured we could get a few hours in Chicago. I was thinking the Field Museum? If so, let me know now so I can see if they have any tickets available for today? And—“

”Hollander, is 5AM. So many words, so fast. Please stop.”

The Russian man sat at the table, shirtless and still in his pajama pants, and took a sip of his espresso. Ilya sat there for a few moments before Shane started to impatiently tap his foot.

“What?” Ilya groaned.

“Are you going to shower? Get changed? I’m already ready.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuugh.” Ilya rolled his head back dramatically and downed the rest of his espresso. “I shower now. Will be down at 5:30.”

Shane tried not to let out an annoyed sigh. Ilya was trying, he was just not a morning person. Shane decided to make Ilya another espresso—today seemed like a double shot kind of day. Sure enough, Ilya made his way back downstairs at 5:30 sharp, freshly showered and dressed, and greedily grabbed the fresh cup of espresso.

“See, I said 5:30. Scheduled Uber is already outside and ready. Let’s get our bags and go, sweetheart.” Ilya winked and threw back his espresso before quickly washing it and setting it on the dish rack.

The ride to the airport was a mix of giddy anticipation. The two had been talking about this trip for almost the entirety of the season—their final season. This trip was supposed to be the start of the brand new chapter of their lives and Shane had spent the last 6 months between moments where he wasn’t focused on hockey painstakingly planning each moment of this trip.

The first of the plans hinged on an on-time departure from Ottawa to Chicago. It was July, so the weather shouldn’t be bad. And it’s an early flight, so no delays for the plane coming from another airport. The only thing that could delay them from an on-time departure would be something like a mechanical issue with the plane. Shane’s foot began to anxiously tap as he looked at his phone to ensure the plane was still on time. It wasn’t until Ilya placed his hand gently on Shane’s knee that he realized how hard and fast his leg was tapping.

Ilya looked over at him and stared stupidly at him with that crooked grin. God Ilya looked tired, but even with those tired eyes, Shane could see them glower with the love and passion his husband held for him. Shane placed his hand on top of Ilya’s and laced their fingers together, letting out a large exhale. This trip was going to be great.

The rest of the ride passed in a comfortable silence. To Shane’s delight, security was fast to get through and it allowed Ilya to hunt for a greasy breakfast sandwich for himself. As Ilya was up, Shane pulled out the binder from his backpack and began to thumb through the schedule for the next couple of days.

“Did you put tabs in that thing?” Ilya looked incredulous as he put a yogurt with granola in front of Shane before sitting and taking his breakfast sandwich out of its wrapper.

“Yes, there are tabs. One for each city we’re visiting and then 3 sub tabs for hotels, reservations, and sites to visit.”

Ilya groaned and thunked his head on the table. “Hollander, this is vacation. Do we really have to use a fucking binder every time? We’re retired now! We don’t need to have every moment scheduled now. Just toss that fucking thing.”

“Ilya, this has all of our reservations in it!” Shane emphatically pointed at the binder.

“You mean the same reservations that you put on to our shared calendar? Don’t glare at me like that. Da, Hollander, I read the things you send me.” Ilya huffed and took a large bite of his breakfast sandwich.

Shane grimaced and took a bit of his yogurt before thumbing at the black binder again. The binder wasn’t stupid—it had saved their asses a few years ago when their phones died while travelling in Japan and they got lost. Had Shane not kept detailed directions to each destination in the binders, they almost certainly would not have made it back to their hotel in time to make their dinner reservation. Ilya had said the reservation didn’t matter and they would find their way to the hotel eventually, but Shane had made that dinner reservation with the concierge the second they got checked in to that hotel in Kyoto. The binder wasn’t stupid.

After finishing breakfast, the two made their way to the gate, the binder tucked safely in Shane’s backpack. Boarding time still wasn’t for another 45 minutes and Ilya took the time to pull his hoodie over his eyes and try to sleep while Shane, yet again, thumbed through the binder. If they landed on time and took the L, they would have 4 hours in Chicago. Just enough time for lunch and a drop-in to the Field Musuem, or if Ilya was feeling adventurous (when wasn’t he), a trip to Willis Tower. Shane went ahead and made reservations for both sites. Just in case.

The flight was uneventful and after landing shortly after 9AM, Shane dashed down the concourse to catch the next train. Ilya, of course, sauntered, but they still made the train and were downtown by 10:30AM. That left them 3 hours to wander, so maybe not the museum, but definitely lunch and time for Willis Tower.

It was after lunch that the first hiccup came—their flight was delayed until 7PM. Ilya waved it off like he normally did and said it gave them more time to enjoy the walking around. Shane could admit that Willis Tower was a blast, at least not when Ilya gave him a gentle nudge to get him to walk on the glass overhang. But after a few minutes of prodding, Ilya was successful in getting Shane to penguin waddle, then walk across the floor. They took stupid selfies, Ilya insisted on taking a video for Yuna to show Anya, and Ilya plopped a fat, wet kiss on Shane’s cheek as he tried to catch a sneaky solo picture of Ilya. While Shane refused to lay down on the glass floor overlooking the streets below, Ilya excitedly threw himself back and begged Shane to take pictures of him sprawled across the floor.

After the adrenaline wore off from Willis Tower, Ilya then suggested the blood tempering spot of the Art Institute to see a Wassily Kandisky exhibition. It was while they were sitting admiring a particularly beautiful Renoir that the flight was delayed to 8PM. Then 9. Then it was cancelled and rescheduled for 7AM the next day. They hadn’t even left the Art Institute yet.

Shane couldn’t believe it. Of course this would happen. Now they were going to be out of their hotel for New Orleans and lose a precious night. Shane had been looking forward to dragging Ilya to Fremont St. to listen to jazz and then the WWII Museum tomorrow, which Ilya really didn’t want to visit because he said it would be too depressing. In reality, the man just really didn’t like listening to history lessons.

Frantically, Shane began to call the hotel to adjust their reservation. Thankfully, Shane had purchased insurance at every hotel, so cancelling for the night was no issue, but that left them with no room in Chicago tonight other than the airport hotel their airline was trying to stick them in.

As Shane took steadying breaths trying to find a room for the night, Ilya yet again, placed a hand on Shane’s anxiety-ridden leg.

“Shane, it is ok.” Ilya looked at him in the eye. “Is just a hiccup. While you were changing our reservation in New Orleans, I made us a reservation for a little boutique hotel just on the other side of the river. Let’s finish up here and go checked in. Then I want to go to the Navy Pier and play tourist carnival games with you and drink an awful margarita at Margaritaville and then eat a Chicago dog. Maybe after Chicago dog, we can find a jazz club. Sounds good, yes?”

Ilya gave Shane’s leg a soft pat and Shane gently exhaled, trying not to cry. That sounded really nice. Maybe it wasn’t New Orleans and coffee and beignets at Café du Monde (not that Shane would have eaten the beignets), but it was still jazz in the Big Easy. Shane was definitely missing that.

———

Shane was surprised Ilya found such a nice hotel on such short notice. He was afraid to ask how much it cost, but then Shane remembered that it was a vacation and they worked hard and destroyed their bodies for the millions of dollars they made—splurging every once and a while was just fine.

The two made their way up to their room, and happily thunked their heavy backpacks on the couch. Shane barely had a second to think before Ilya was on him, his mouth locked on and tongue desperately searching to get past Shane’s lips. Eagerly, Shane let him in and gently suckled on the Russian man’s tongue. Both moaned into the kiss as Ilya began to rip off Shane’s clothes. Shane gasped as Ilya took one of his nipples between his teeth and bit hard.

“Shower,” Ilya growled in Shane’s ear as he took a hearty handful of his bare ass. “Now.”

Shane managed a nod and stumbled his way into the bathroom. He got into the rainfall shower and turned the water on, letting the water warm to his skin. Shane felt Ilya’s hands slide around him. Ilya grazed Shane’s neck with his teeth and gently suckled—Shane moaned and threw his head back, begging for more. Ilya happily indulged as he placed kiss after kiss on Shane’s neck.

Only when Shane was a lifeless puddle in his arms did Ilya finally pull away, only to return moments later with soap in hand. Ilya started on Shane’s neck and massaged the tight muscles there then slowly lathered down Shane’s body with sure and strong touches. Shane was helpless in Ilya’s arms—he was barely able to stand and was leaning almost his full weight against his husband.

“I’m hungry.” Ilya whispered in Shane’s ear, gently nipping at his earlobe.

“Mmm, me too. Let’s finish this shower and go eat.”

Ilya snickered against Shane’s ear. “Yes, hungry for that, too. But first I need you to feed me something else.”

Slowly, Ilya slid down Shane until he was kneeling at his feet. With a light flicking of his tongue, Ilya began to take Shane into his mouth. Shane moaned as Ilya wrapped his tongue around the head and flicked it into Shane’s slit, sucking the precome that was beginning to leak out.

“God, Ilya.” Shane threaded his fingers through Ilya’s hair, urging his husband to take him deeper down his throat. ”Fuuuuuck.”

Ilya had taken him deep, swallowing hard around his cock. Every time Shane gave an encouraging thrust, Ilya moaned, seeming to love the sensation of Shane hitting the back of his throat. Ilya gripped the back of Shane’s thighs, encouraging him to go faster, to fuck his throat harder. He looked up at Shane, his eyes, welled with tears and thick with desire.

Shane needed no more encouragement to start snapping his hips erratically forward, all sense of rhythm lost as Ilya moaned each time Shane hit the back of his throat.

“Oh fuck, Ilya, fuck. Oh my god. I’m gonna come. Oh!”

Shane gripped Ilya’s hair hard as his orgasm erupted from him and down Ilya’s throat. Ilya hummed as Shane shot ribbon after ribbon of come, his fingers gripping Shane’s thighs so hard, he would surely have bruises. His legs trembled as Ilya let him slide out of his mouth and shivered as Ilya gave an appreciative suck of his oversensitive head before letting Shane fully go.

Ilya rose to his legs and crushed their mouths together. Shane couldn’t help but moan as he tasted the remnants of himself on Ilya’s tongue. Ilya pulled Shane close as Shane shivered again and peppered kisses on Shane’s wet hair.

“Mmmm, thank you. All full now.” Ilya purred into Shane’s ear. “Now on your knees.”

Shane obediently went down to his knees where Ilya’s massive cock stared him in the face. He couldn’t help but lick his lips as he looked at the head popped up out of Ilya’s foreskin.

“You want it?” Ilya gripped his cock and gave it a few languid strokes. “Dying for it?”

Shane stared at him, sitting obediently on his knees. Waiting. He licked his lips again. Yes. He was dying for it.

“Take it. Treat it nice. I’ll give you a reward for it later.” Ilya brought his dick closer to Shane’s mouth.

Taking his cue, Shane leaned forward and began to take Ilya in his mouth. He wanted to enjoy this, treat Ilya nice, be rewarded for it. Shane shivered in anticipation as he shoved Ilya deep down his throat and tugged at his balls in just the way he knew Ilya loved. Mr. Stallion was quivering and moaning in less than a minute—Shane hoped the bathroom was somewhat soundproofed with how loud Ilya had screamed his name when he came.

Ilya slid down on to the floor meeting Shane, panting as he watched Shane wipe his mouth, the remnants of him washing away. They both laughed as the two caught their breathes, both giddy in the haze of their orgasms.

“Fuck, Hollander. You been holding out on me?” Ilya laughed as his breath finally returned to him.

Shane thunked his head against Ilya’s shoulder and smiled, “Thought I’d pick up a new trick or two before our trip.” He leaned forward and pulled Ilya into a leisurely kiss.

———

After spending entirely too long in the shower, the two finally made their way out and got dressed. When the got outside on that mid-July evening, Shane didn’t know if he had felt better weather or had his steps ever felt lighter. The two walked together holding hands and playing tourist.

Sometimes, it shocked Shane when they had anonymity. Shane thought that surely someone in the course of the evening would recognize them shouting loudly at carnival and arcade games, laughing loudly as Ilya got ketchup all over himself after his first bite of his Chicago Dog, or their uncontrollable gagging from the margaritas at Margaritaville. But their evening passed with quiet delight.

Just the two of them.

It was all Shane could do to stifle his yawn when the fireworks went off at 9PM. Ilya wrapped his arm around him and hugged him close, deeply inhaling the smell of Shane’s hair.

”Let’s go back to the hotel after this. Early flight tomorrow.” Ilya murmured in Russian into Shane’s hair as a particularly spectacular firework went off.

All Shane could do was nod and curl deeper into Ilya.

Chapter 2: Tab 2 — French Quarter

Chapter Summary

Shane’s carefully planned New Orleans itinerary is finally back on track: steamboat rides, jazz clubs, Cajun food, and exactly one trip down Bourbon Street that immediately proves to be a terrible idea.

Meanwhile, Ilya makes friends everywhere they go, buys the worst frozen drink known to man, and somehow keeps convincing Shane that maybe getting a little lost isn’t always a bad thing.

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: You and I by The Revivalists

At 4:30 in the morning, the hotel phone rang, screeching through the dark room as both men startled awake.

“Blyat!” Ilya cried as he rolled on his side and threw the pillow over his head, trying to block out the noise of the shrill phone. “Fucking answer it, Hollander.”

Shane rubbed his eyes and reached over for the phone. It was the front desk with their wake up call. Shane groaned and threw his head back against the pillow—he had completely forgotten that he had asked the front desk for the wake-up call. Sometimes, he hated how he could never leave things to chance, but these extra moments gave Shane time to quickly shower before their Uber was set to arrive at 5AM.

Moving quickly and quietly, Shane rushed his shower and then ensured both of the backpacks were ready to go before he went and yanked the sheets off of Ilya.

“Niet!” Ilya shouted as he reached back out the blankets that were firmly in Shane’s hands.

“Ilyuska, go shower. We need to leave in 15 minutes and you still smell like hot dog.” Shane gently whispered in Russian. Over their near 10 years of marriage, Shane had found if he approached Ilya with his native tongue in the early morning, he was more likely to get the results he wanted.

With a loud groan, Ilya threw his pillow at Shane with enough force to show he was annoyed but soft enough to ensure it wouldn’t actually hurt him.

“Fine, tell the Uber driver to bring coffee. Then ask the driver why he thinks the smell of hot dogs is so offensive that I need to shower at 4:40 in the morning. Can you ask this, Shane?” Ilya half shouted as he made his way to the bathroom to piss and wash off last night’s activities.

Maybe the two could have gone to bed as soon as they got back to the hotel, but Ilya had promised Shane a reward if he treated Ilya’s cock well earlier. Ilya was never one to shy away from giving Shane a deserved reward and kept them both up until just past midnight. It was conveniently well past their bed time and also when Shane was unable to form intelligible words after being so blissed out.

Shane hummed and traced his lips while he waited for Ilya to get out of the shower. Maybe he would reward Ilya later for being a fairly good sport about waking up so early two days in a row.

With Ilya’s shower finished, they checked out and made their way to the Uber waiting for them outside. Ilya couldn’t help but grumble over the fact that their driver did not, in fact, have coffee for them both. As a result, the Russian put his expert napping skills to the test and immediately fell asleep against the window.

Shanen pulled out his phone and double-checked that their 7AM flight was on time, and even though he didn’t believe in God, he said a silent prayer to the universe for last night to be the only hiccup in their month-long journey.

While Ilya kept sleeping on the plane, Shane opened up the binder to try and hack together their day. Arriving early meant they could stop and get Ilya more coffee at Café du Monde and maybe Shane would cheat and get a beignet with him. They could skip the WWII Museum in favor of a steamboat ride along the Mississippi and then maybe do some walking around the French Quarter before it got too dark and then a touch of jazz at The Spotted Cat after an easy dinner at the French Market. Easy.

Flipping to the the last tab of ‘Things to Do’ in New Orleans section, Shane looked at his little secret that he had. After listening to jazz, Shane intended to take Ilya to a hidden vampire-themed speakeasy—Rose was kind enough to give him the password to get in.

To Shane’s surprise, the flight to New Orleans was completely painless, especially once Ilya finished his second cup of coffee. They even got to their hotel just after 10AM—a luxury boutique just off of Royal St. that was Shane’s personal splurge for the trip. The room obviously wasn’t ready, but they allowed them to store their backpacks, giving both a chance to get the weight off of the shoulders.

Making their way outside the hotel, Shane suddenly understood why July was not a recommended time to wander around the Big Easy. Shane was aware that New Orleans was in a swamp, but feeling the thick and steamy air made Shane blithely aware that maybe people shouldn’t have colonized this patch of land. It only took minutes for Shane’s shirt to cling to his back and sweat to start pouring down his face. It was a heat that he was wholly unprepared for.

Ilya, it seemed, was also struggling with the heat but in his typical fashion, he kept his mouth closed about any discomfort and merely pulled his shirt from his skin every few minutes. Shane chirped at Ilya repeatedly for wearing a light pink shirt because the color allowed the world to see just how hot the Russian truly was. However, Ilya wasn’t one to shy away from Shane’s gentle prodding, and wrapped Shane in an incredibly sweaty hug as they stood in line to get their tickets for a steamboat river cruise.

The ride was only a little over an hour and Ilya gleefully paced up and down the boat, staring at the water wheel propelling them in the back. He held the brochure tightly in his hand as the boat guide rattled off historical facts about Mississippi River pirates and the founding of New Orleans. Part of Shane wished this river tour was longer so that he could watch Ilya’s puppy dog eyes as they cruised up the Mississippi.

“We could buy a boat like this,” Ilya mused. “Just go up and down the river. Going wherever we want.”

”You want to go through the hassle of maintaining a steamboat so that you can go up and down a single river for the rest of your life?”

”Da, would be no hassle for me. I would make you do all the maintenance. You’re smarter and more organized than me.”

Ilya winked at Shane and wrapped his arm around Shane’s waist, pulling him as close as possible as they stood looking over the railing. Shane was tempted to pull away—the noon air was filled with a special kind of heat and Ilya’s body with sticky fingers from the beignets only added to that uncomfortable mix. But here was Ilya, thinking about their open life in front of them. Shane smiled and snuggled into Ilya’s side.

He could deal with the heat for a little bit longer.

———

By the time the cruise ended, both men were starving and ready for something that was distinctly NOLA. It didn’t take them long to find a sparsely populated Cajun restaurant near the steamboat. Shane was hesitant because the restaurant wasn’t listed in Shane’s exhaustive list of places to eat in the French Quarter, but Ilya loved the idea of a fried oysters po’boy and Shane couldn’t resist that smile.

The two ate in a relaxed silence while both chugged water and then a beer each. Shane didn’t normally like drinking this early, but when in Rome. After all, the next place to visit according to Shane’s schedule was…Bourbon Street. Shane wasn’t particularly thrilled about the idea of going down a street whose sole existence was based upon getting people as drunk as humanly possible. A little beer might act as the needed lubrication to get Shane into the Bourbon Street mentality.

Shane thought it would be a quick trip to Bourbon, but Ilya got distracted by the horse drawn carriages and insisted that both take pictures with the handsome steeds. This then led to them finding a hot sauce shop where Ilya then insisted they try every sauce the store had out for sampling. Shane hated spice and he knew Ilya wasn’t a fan either, but the two egged each other on as each sauce got progressively spicier.

“Ah, this tastes like shit!” Ilya exclaimed at a particularly brutal hot sauce that had a bomb featured on the label. “Shane, I’m dying, please save me.”

Ilya made fake choking noises that morphed into genuine coughing as he gagged from the spice. Shane couldn’t help but snap a video of Ilya kneeling and dying, his face red and contorted as the hot sauce overwhelmed his senses. Naturally, they bought the terrible hot sauce and shipped it right to Troy and Harris as a little surprise gift.

By the time they made it to Bourbon Street, the sun was high and its rays seemed to be eating through Shane’s sunscreen. Bourbon Street was exactly as advertised and significantly worse in person. It smelled like beer, sugar, sweat, and something faintly chemical Shane did not want identified. Music crashed from every doorway in competing rhythms while tourists stumbled across the street holding neon-colored drinks the size of small children.

Ilya, naturally, was thrilled.

It didn’t take long before Ilya found a frozen daiquiri shop and bought a drink that was nearly a meter in length.

“Ilya, there is no way you can finish that thing.” Shane gasped as Ilya took his first and loud satiating sip.

“Tastes like candy for children blended with the cheapest vodka ever made. I love it.” Ilya took another large sip before clutching his head. “Ah, brain freeze!”

The two laughed as Shane snapped more pictures of Ilya’s agony and they began to slowly make their way down sensory overload avenue. Children were playing drums on buckets, their foreheads drenched in July sweat, a small jazz band drummed steadily in the background as they passed bar after bar, Ilya’s daiquiri slowly draining with only a little help from Shane.

As they passed yet another loud bar with a throng of bachelorette party celebrators forcing their way out, Shane became acutely aware of just how hot it was. Ilya’s arms were beginning to redden despite Shane’s liberal application of sunscreen. The pavement seemed to be radiating heat and Shane could see its curvy waves curling above the black pavement.

Ilya’s hand found its way on to the small of Shane’s back, and the Russian looked down at him. Shane was sure his face was red, maybe from heat, maybe from the noise, maybe from being up since 4:30 in the morning. All it took was a gentle press of Ilya’s hand and they made their way to a quieter street, the noise of revelry slowly dying.

“Our hotel has a pool, yes?” Ilya stated matter of factly as he walked them slowly down Royal street. Shane merely nodded, his back tense under Ilya’s gentle palm. “I think is time for afternoon dip. Then we do the dinner and jazz that you have in your binder. And maybe that secret speakeasy that you tried to hide at the end.”

Shane smiled as they continued their stroll and welcomed the blast of air conditioning hitting his face as they entered the hotel. The two wasted no time yanking their swim trunks out of their backpacks and practically raced each other downstairs to the pool isolated within the courtyard of the hotel. Shane totally won the race and celebrated by doing an elegant, shallow dive into the pool.

“No diving, Hollander. Hockey took away your ability to read?” Ilya chirped at Shane.

A splash of cool water seemed to shut Ilya up and then he joined with a large cannonball. Shane wasted no time swimming up to Ilya and wrapping his legs around his waist—he would never miss an opportunity in an empty pool. Ilya growled quietly and pulled Shane into a slow and searing kiss before Shane departed and started to swim leisurely laps up and down the pool. Ilya, on the other hand, seemed content with just sitting on the stairs, letting half of his body soak while Shane showed off the muscles of his back.

It almost didn’t seem like they had spent over an hour in the pool, but the alarm on Shane’s phone began to blare in the chair behind them. Ilya didn’t even groan as he took one last dive in the water before getting out and drying himself. Shane was surprised that Ilya needed no prompting to start getting himself ready for their next adventure.

An unguarded smile crept across Shane’s face. He tried to hide it when Ilya turned to look at him but it was too late—the Russian man had taken Shane’s face into his hands and was gently stroking Shane’s freckles. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on each side of Shane’s face.

“Beautiful” He murmured in Russian as he began to run his fingers through Shane’s wet hair. ”Ya tebya lyublyu.” He whispered into Shane’s ear, as he pulled his husband close to his body.

Shane melted in Ilya’s arms, inhaling the chlorine and that distinct musk that Ilya always carried with him. This man intoxicated Shane down to his barest senses. How was anyone supposed to function around Ilya without going completely insane and ripping off his clothes? Well, Shane knew. He’d only been doing it for 20 years.

“I’m hungry again.” Shane purred into Ilya’s chest.

“Yes, moya lyubov.” Ilya kissed Shane’s hair. “But we have schedule to keep. Let’s go up and get changed. You can show me how hungry you are when we get back to room this evening.”

Ilya hugged Shane tighter and took one last whiff of Shane’s hair before he pulled them apart and they made their way back to the room.

———

“Are you sure?” Ilya held Shane’s hand tightly as they stood outside The Spotted Cat and listened to the loud brass band inside. “Room is very small and band is very loud.”

”I’m sure!” Shane nodded gleefully as he handed the doorman cash for their entry

Ilya hadn’t been wrong. The place was small and the concrete walls were barren with the exception of framed photographs hanging haphazardly throughout the two rooms. With a band this loud and boisterous, there were no places left to sit, so Ilya grabbed Shane’s hand and moved them towards the back near the bar and placed them against an empty patch of wall. Ilya pulled Shane against him so that his back was flush with Ilya’s chest and then he wrapped his arms securely around him.

In public.

Maybe 9 years ago, just after they were married and the media firestorm around them was truly just beginning, the thought of Ilya wrapping his arms around Shane like this would scare him. What if people were angry two men were together? What if they were disgusted? How would they behave? Now, Shane craned his neck back slightly so that he could rest it against the side of Ilya’s face and breathed deeply, inhaling the intoxicating cologne that Shane had gotten him for Christmas last year.

No one blinked an eye.

Song after song, the two hummed and moved with each sound of the band. Ilya couldn’t help himself when he saw a few people beginning to dance in front of the band and left Shane against the wall so that he could find a partner. Watching Ilya dance and laugh was maybe one of Shane’s favorite things to do—seeing his husband let go and just be free.

Ilya returned a number of songs later, drenched in sweat and accompanied by a young couple whose wife he had been dancing with.

“This is Sara without an ‘H’ and Thom with an ‘H’.” Ilya shouted out so that Shane could shake their hands. “This is my gorgeous husband Shane that I was telling you about. Tell him how great he looks in that shirt even though he has sweated completely through it.”

Sara laughed and stuck out her hand, complimenting Shane on his shirt before Thom did the same. Ilya was right—this room was boiling and he had completely sweated through his shirt. The music was amazing, but Shane was now acutely aware of how tight the space was and how the sound of the trumpet was bouncing around the walls.

“Ilya says you know the password to a little speakeasy around here?” Sara leaned in so Shane could hear her over the music.

“Yeah, it’s like a 10 minute walk away.” Shane tried to motion towards it, but the space was too small. He backed further into the wall.

“Think they’ll have a table for four?” Sara asked as Shane pushed himself against the wall as hard as possible.

Ilya nodded and motioned for everyone to leave. He reached out for Shane’s hand and escorted them outside. The July air was still suffocating but the slight drop in temperature and sound was all Shane needed to breathe again. Ilya waited patiently as Shane took a few steadying breaths and then pulled out his phone.

“GPS says this way.” Shane pointed in the direction of the bar and tried to hide how shaky his voice was.

The four talked as they walked together, making small talk as they went. Sara was a radiologist and Thom was an actuary. Shane didn’t want to admit that he had no idea what an actuary was or did, but Thom was happy to fill in the details during their short jaunt.

The vampire speakeasy wasn’t as easy to find as Rose had said, but as soon as they found the right bar to enter, they found the doorman and Shane gave the password of “Eric Northman” to get in the hidden bar. All parties were delighted with how truly gaudy and gothic the bar was.

Once seated at their table, Shane finally started to relax. The air was cool in here, the music was loud but not overstated, and while the drink list was overwhelming, Ilya had taken it upon himself to find something he knew Shane would love. And Shane did love the slightly sweet and fruity concoction called the ‘Dirty Sookie’.

”How long have you been together?” Thom asked, breaking the easy silence.

“Well,” Ilya started. “We celebrate 9 years of marriage in just a few days, but we’ve been together for 20.”

”20 years?!” Sara exclaimed, practically spitting out her drink. “You two don’t look that old. Are you both, like, 50 or something?”

”No,” Ilya laughed. “Only 39. Just halfway to dinosaur.”

Ilya gave Shane’s hand a gentle squeeze. It was a bit difficult to talk right now even though Shane was enjoying the new company. He was thankful Ilya was willing to do the heavy lifting right now.

“So, like, you’ve been together since you were teenagers?” Sara asked, surprise still strong in her voice.

“Yeah, something like that.” Ilya playfully winked at Shane who felt the back of his neck flush.

“How long have you two been together?” Shane finally found his voice.

Thom smiled at Sara and placed his hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing his thumb over the exposed skin there. He leaned over, and gave her shoulder a gentle kiss before raising his head and kissing her cheek.

“We got married back in February. We didn’t have time to do the honeymoon then, but we finally caught a week this month and you can’t beat the deals in New Orleans right now. Seems no one wants to be here in July. Can’t imagine why.” Thom laughed as he continued to gently thumb at his wife’s shoulder.

“Happy Honeymoon!” Ilya raised his glass to them. “We had ours in Spain. It was amazing. I wanted to go back for this vacation, but Shane insisted that we do a road trip instead since for first time ever, we have more than just couple of weeks for vacation. Hopefully I’ll get to see him in his tiny swimsuit again on this trip.”

Shane felt his face turn into a full blush and was thankful for the dim lights in the bar, hoping that their new friends wouldn’t see just how red he was. Ilya laced their fingers together and smiled that crooked grin at Shane. Oh god, how strong was this chair? He was about to melt through it.

”Having vacation time is great! Feels so hard to get the time though.” Sara remarked. “What do you two do?”

”We’re retired.” Ilya said this as if it was nothing to be retired this young.

“Retired? Did y’all have a successful start-up or something that you sold to be retired at 39?” Thom asked as he plopped the cherry from his Old Fashioned into his mouth.

“We were professional athletes until a few weeks ago.” Shane chimed in after taking a small sip from his cocktail, trying to pace himself for the remainder for the night.

“Shane is being modest.” Ilya used his other hand to wave off in the distance. “We played hockey in the MHL for 20 years.”

Sara laughed and placed her hand on her husband’s lap. “Forgive our ignorance, but neither of us watch hockey. Y’all must’ve been pretty good if you lasted 20 years. Did you both play together or for different teams?”

”Different teams at first but we played our last 8 seasons on the same team.” Shane smiled wide.

The south may have its drawbacks, but nearly guaranteed anonymity was not one of them. The media storm of their retirement was nothing compared to when the Centaurs won the MLH Cup back to back in Shane’s first two seasons. Some media had dubbed their first victory a fluke, with some of the major players in the Western Conference being out with injury. Coming back and winning against the strongest team San Francisco had ever seen for a second season Cup in a row shut those naysayers up. When they took home their fourth Cup together the season before last, both were formally GOATed and the talk behind their marriage seemed to die down a bit in lieu of them being some of the greatest hockey players to ever play.

Shane hoped that one day he would be known as a 7-time MLH champion rather than one half of the first husbands of hockey. But he knew in the back of his mind, the two items would always be put together. It used to bother him.

Now it excited him.

It was well past 1AM before Shane let out an exhausted yawn. Ilya grabbed the check and they said their polite goodbyes before heading in different directions to their hotel. Even with the late hour, Shane could still hear the bass of Bourbon Street bumping down the road, making him feel slightly queasy. But there was Ilya, his hand locked firmly with Shane’s, their fingers intertwined.

Shane sighed and took in a large breath. The wind blew slightly and the vibration Shane had been feeling since they left the jazz club finally died down. Shane gave Ilya’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

As they passed by Jefferson Square, Ilya stopped them to take a quick selfie of the dark courtyard behind them. When the picture was taken, Ilya turned and brushed the hair off of Shane’s forehead and placed a gentle kiss.

“Thank you for today.” He whispered as he pulled Shane into a hug. “Your plan was great. I had a lot of fun.”

Shane smiled and laughed and looked up at his husband. 20 years and this man still knew how to melt his heart. There was no one else he would rather spend a perfect day with.

Chapter End Notes

Comment or kudos if you enjoy~

Chapter 3: Tab 3: Interstate 10

Chapter Summary

A minor route adjustment lands Shane and Ilya at a casino resort in Lake Charles where Ilya discovers he may be the luckiest man alive, Shane accidentally becomes a Disney prince to a bachelorette party, and several very drunk women learn absolutely nothing about hockey.

Chapter Notes

Chapter Song: Damn in Love by Anna Graves

The normal early riser, Shane Hollander, was surprised when he woke up and he saw that the alarm clock was blaring 10:00AM at him. How in the hell did he sleep until 10:00? He never slept this late. Shane tensed and began to throw the sheets off of himself and tried to move, but was stopped by his husband’s arm coming and draping itself over his waist and pulling Shane closer to him. Oh, this is nice. Shane let himself settle as Ilya pulled him even closer and took a deep breath of his hair.

“Ten more minutes like this, please.” Ilya mumbled as he began tracing his fingers up and down Shane’s abs.

Shane shivered to the touch and allowed the Russian man to gently run his hand all over his body while peppering soft kisses against his neck. It didn’t take long for Shane to start quietly moaning and slowly grind his ass against Ilya’s growing hardness. Ilya’s hand stopped its motions and he placed a quick kiss on Shane’s ear.

“I said ten more minutes of this and then you move after less than two. Do I need to reset clock?” Ilya nipped at Shane’s ear again, sending shivers down his spine.

“Yes,” Shane moaned, stilling his body. “Reset the clock.”

———

It was past 11:30 when the two finished and showered, making Shane thankful they had requested a late check-out. Their backpacks were ready, and Shane pinched his nose. They had intended to travel light so that they wouldn’t have to worry about carrying around the extra luggage, but in just 2 days, Shane had burned through 4 days worth of clothes. The smell emanating from his backpack was almost on par with the Centaurs locker room.

Ilya’s backpack somehow smelt worse.

“The hotel in Austin has laundry service, right?” Shane called out to Ilya who was finishing shaving in the bathroom.

“Da. Our clothes can make it one more night moya lyubov.” Ilya finished the last section of his cheek and admired his abnormally close shave. ”Hey, I was thinking—”

Shane was immediately nervous—Ilya thinking rarely ended well.

“Drive to Houston is 6 hours. We’re leaving so late now that with traffic, it will be past 8PM before we get to our dingy hotel. I don’t want to be in car all day. Let’s split the drive and go to Lake Charles instead. They have nice casinos.” Ilya walked over and gave Shane a gentle peck on the cheek.

“I don’t know. That may kill time I have set for Austin.” Shane was immediately nervous. The Austin section in his binder was practically the lengthiest of any section—they would be spending three nights there.

“Then we just wake up a bit earlier tomorrow and drive straight to Austin and get there by noon. I was looking this up while pooping. I think we’ll be fine. Maybe forget about binder for one night, yes?”

Ilya took Shane’s shoulders with his hands and stared him squarely in the eyes with those heart eyes. Fuck, how was he supposed to resist that. Houston didn’t matter anyway, it was just a place to stop and sleep, not a destination. The prospect of a casino didn’t exactly thrill Shane as he avidly avoided the sport of gambling, but Lake Charles was only a four hour drive versus a six. They still had to go pick up the rental car which was another hour, so really seven hours of just driving.

“Ok,” Shane sighed. “We can stop in Lake Charles.”

”Yes!” Ilya raised his arms in triumph. “I may have also already booked a room…”

”Oh, so you were so confident that I would say yes?” Shane laughed and wrapped his arms around Ilya’s back and pulled him into a tight hug. “Ok, no binder today. But Austin we stick to the schedule!”

Ilya shot Shane a delightful smile and kissed him hard and squarely on the mouth. By the time Ilya pulled away, Shane was breathless and hoping for round 2 despite being sore from Ilya pounding into him just 45 minutes ago.

“Ok!” Ilya pulled away from Shane with what seemed like a bit of extreme effort. “Let’s go get car. I’m feeling lucky tonight!”

———

”Did you really get us a room at The Golden Nugget?” Shane was incredulous. He had been to Vegas enough times to know the old strip and The Golden Nugget there looked like it had barely been updated since the 80s.

“Relax, Hollander. We are on vacation. And yes, pictures online looked very nice. I think you will like it.” Ilya excitedly tapped on the steering wheel as Lake Charles slowly came into view.

By the time they made it to the parking lot, it was close to 6PM and Shane was thankful that Ilya had made the call to stop here versus pushing it to Houston. New Orleans had been fun, but the drive across I-10 qualified as one of the more boring drives Shane had ever been on. Just swamp, concrete, and straight roads. Shane honestly didn’t know how Ilya had been able to make the drive in practically one go.

They had only made a minor pit stop to go to the bathroom and let Ilya eat some fried boudin. Ilya called it one of the most delicious things he had ever eaten and repeatedly pestered their poor waitress to see if they could mail links of the sausage back to Ottawa. Granted, she didn’t seem to mind Ilya’s flirtatious attitude and was maybe a bit sad when the two asked for their check.

“Together or separate?” She had asked.

“Separate.” Ilya was quick to reply as he pulled out his wallet.

Shane couldn’t stop himself from feeling a bit hurt but understood the reasoning. Ilya was always proud to display his affection for his husband but was also keenly aware of the inherent risk. Not everyone was comfortable with a marriage between two men. Maybe the people in New Orleans were fine with it, but they had stayed in the tourist areas and this was small town, deep south Louisiana. Shane didn’t want to press their luck.

The sting of the separate checks lingered in the back of Shane’s mind as they approached the front desk to check in.

“One night in the Parlor Suite with a king bed. Is that right?” The woman asked as Ilya handed her his passport and credit card.

“Yes. Can we have two keys please?” Ilya asked as he gave Shane heart eyes.

“Absolutely. Y’all celebrating anything special?”

“Our retirement. And our 9-year anniversary is in two days!” Ilya couldn’t hide the excitement in his voice.

Shane was nervous. This was still Louisiana. Sure, this looked like a pretty nice hotel (especially compared to the original in Las Vegas) and a casino like this was absolutely a tourist destination—but this was still Louisiana.

“How exciting!” The woman matched Ilya’s enthusiasm. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t y’all go over to our concierge, Roy, right there after I finish checking you in and y’all two make yourself a reservation for dinner at Vic & Anthony’s. It’s one of the best steak houses in America. Tell Roy it's your anniversary and he’ll get y’all all set.” The woman winked and gave Ilya the key cards and then instructions of how to get to their suite.

Ilya grabbed the cards then Shane’s hand before walking them over to Roy and making a reservation for a late dinner.

———

“Don’t do it.”

”Hollander, relax. Is $20.”

Ilya pulled a twenty from his wallet and handed it to the roulette dealer. Shane hummed in annoyance as the dealer gave Ilya a small handful of chips. He hated gambling. The noise, the smells, the overexcitement, the losing of money…

Shane watched as Ilya pushed all of the chips on to 24 red. He winked at Shane and then watched as the dealer began to spin the wheel and closed the bets. Ilya took Shane’s hand and gave it a gentle kiss while they watched the steel ball make its way around and around the wheel. There was no way Ilya was going to win, but Shane appreciated Ilya putting his number down. The ball began to slow and then plunk, it landed.

Right on 24 red.

“Holy shit!” Ilya raised his hands and did a small jump. “Shane, holy shit!”

The dealer pushed a huge stack of roulette chips Ilya’s way and his husband thumbed at the chips before turning back to the dealer and asking for regular chips. Shane watched in fascination as the dealer dropped $700 worth of chips into Ilya’s hands.

“Better to stop while ahead.” Ilya hummed as he pocketed the chips.

“I can’t believe you just won $700.” Shane shook his head in disbelief. Ilya was going to be insufferable after this. “Do we have to pay taxes on that?”

“I win money using your jersey and all you think about is taxes? Hollander, we’re on vacation. Relax.” Ilya leaned over and gave Shane a deep kiss. “Come on, let’s have late dinner that Roy booked us, we will gaze into each other’s eyes while we drink a very overpriced and expensive bottle of wine while eating equally expensive steak. And then when bill comes, I will take the whole check because I am luckiest man in whole world.”

Shane blushed. 20 years, and Ilya was still able to make Shane weak in the knees. He reached over and grabbed Ilya’s hand, and the two walked towards dinner.

Of course, Ilya was right. The wine and steak were completely overpriced but were equally delicious. But not nearly as delicious as the Russian man sitting across from him. They spent the majority of the dinner staring into each other’s eyes and sneaking their hands across the table to tangle their fingers together between bites of food and sips of wine.

Shane felt as if he was falling in love with his husband all over again.

It was past 10pm by the time the two finished dinner. By the time they stepped back onto the casino floor and were walking towards the elevators to their room, Shane felt pleasantly heavy with wine and steak. The noise of the slot machines blurred into background static as Ilya lazily swung their joined hands between them.

Shane was already mentally calculating how quickly he could get Ilya out of his dress shirt when his husband abruptly stopped walking.

“One more time,” Ilya said as he motioned to the roulette table he had won at earlier. Shane rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, subtly letting Ilya know, yes, but really only one more time.

Gleefully, Ilya gave the roulette dealer another $20, and Ilya placed all of the chips on to 20 red, giving Shane a little wink about their now 20 years together.

Shane thought back to all the nights where Ilya came back embarrassed having lost hundreds of dollars playing poker with their teammates. Sometimes he won, but most of the time he lost. $680 would be a small dent in all the money Ilya gambled away, but it had never been a severe vice for him. Losing $2,000 to Dykstra several years ago on what Ilya was a sure fire win in Texas Hold ‘Em quelled his desire to gamble until Ilya put $20 down on the table earlier in the evening.

“20 red!” The dealer shouted.

Ilya gripped Shane’s hand tightly, his mouth agape. Oh god, Ilya was going to be insufferable tonight.

Still having good sense, Ilya exchanged the roulette chips and then marched them directly to the cashier. There they found out that, yes, they would in fact have to pay taxes on his winnings, but it did little to sap out Ilya’s joy.

He leaned over and spoke to Shane in Russian. ”Maybe I should ask her to give me all ones. Then we throw them all over the bed and I fuck you on it.”

”Sounds like something from porn you watch.” Shane laughed at him.

”Oh, you want to watch porn while I fuck you on a pile of money? I didn’t bring my laptop, but my phone is large and loud enough. Or maybe we could make our own porn.” Ilya snarled in Shane’s ear.

Shane shivered as the cashier gave Ilya the money and tax forms and they began to make their way back towards their room until Ilya pulled at his hand.

“Hey, you know this place has a beach on the lake right? You want to see it before we go back to room?” Ilya smiled at Shane who returned it in kind.

“Yeah, a beach sounds nice.”

”Good. Will give us time to think about how to gamble this money and become unbearably rich.”

”We’re already unbearably rich, Ilya…”

”But we could be more rich.” Ilya winked at Shane and walked them outside towards the beach.

Shane was surprised with how nice the beach was. Maybe it was the darkness hiding the refineries in the distance that made it seem nicer, but the warm breeze and soft country music playing over the speakers was charming. The two took a seat near the water and sat in quiet as the water gently lapped at the shore.

Behind them at the bar was a bachelorette party, all the girls decked out in blonde wigs, hot pink cowgirl outfits with matching boots, except for who Shane assumed as the bride-to-be, dressed in head to toe white. The girls were obnoxious and loud and above all, ridiculously drunk. Shane wondered how old they were. They didn’t seem much younger than he and Ilya.

“We never had a bachelor party.” Shane mused as he continued looking at the girls.

“You jealous?” Ilya nudged Shane’s foot with his. “I thought you said you didn’t want a bachelor party.”

”Only because you insisted on going to a strip club!”

”What is wrong with strip club? Is bachelor party tradition!” Ilya pretended to look hurt as he nudged Shane’s foot again.

“Ilya, I’m gay. What am I going to do at a strip club?”

”Watch your incredibly handsome husband get a lap dance from a woman who has had really bad plastic surgery?”

”Wow…You’re really selling it there aren’t you?”

The two laughed and Shane began to lean in for a kiss before—

“Hey Prince Charming!” One of the girls from the bachelorette party called out to them. Ilya raised an eyebrow and pointed at himself. “Not you, the Disney prince sitting next to you. You’re hot too, though. Come over here! Do shots with us!”

Ilya looked incredulous and mocked agony that Shane was selected as the sexier of the two. “Hey Disney prince, let’s go get a shot from the bachelorette barbies.” Ilya laughed and winked at Shane.

Shane rolled his eyes. Doing shots was NOT something Shane had intended on doing tonight, but they were on vacation. When in Rome…

The two stood and wiped the sand off of their pants. Shane couldn’t help himself from being annoyed about how this sand would be everywhere in their room and clothes. It may follow them all the way back to Ottawa. What a lovely reminder of their vacation—rough, irritating sand.

The gaggle of girls started wooing at the top of their lungs as the two approached them at the bar.

“I’m Samantha.” The girl who initially called out to them reached out her hand.

“And I’m Charlotte.” The smallest girl called out.

“Miranda.” The largest of the girls spoke. ”And this is Carrie!” The larger girl pointed to the only one of the group of four dressed in white.

Shane paused. Those names sounded very familiar.

“Wait, are you all actually named after the Sex and the City girls?” Ilya blurted out as he looked between the four girls.

“No no no!” Samantha cackled. “We’re anonymous tonight so we thought the names would be fun. Sorry that you got shackled with Miranda, Chelsea, but you’re a paralegal so it made sense.”

”Samantha, you said anonymous!” Miranda playfully smacked her friend on the arm. “Now shots! We’re ordering lemon drop shots because Charlotte’s a little bitch and can’t handle her liquor.”

”Hey!” Charlotte squeaked.

“Y’all ok with lemon drops?” Samantha cozied up to Ilya. Shane shot him a warning glance and Ilya tried to gently, but unsuccessfully push her away.

The bartender poured out the shots for the group and Shane and Ilya took them in hand.

“To Carrie!” Ilya shouted and raised his shot glass and the group began to take the shots.

Shane threw the shot back and was pleasantly surprised that the shot wasn’t bitter and didn’t burn at all—it was pleasantly sweet. Now he kind of wanted another.

“Prince Charming, what’s your name?” Samantha pointed at Shane.

“Oh, uh, I’m Shane. And this is my husband Ilya.”

“Oh my god, y’all are gay! I knew it. I told you Samantha!” Carrie nudged her friend.

”And it explains how you knew what Sex and the City was.” Charlotte pointed at Ilya who blushed heavily.

“I have never watched the show. We have a friend in Toronto who got drunk and high on a double date and he trapped me for rest of night telling me all about it. Samantha, you’re the slutty one, yes?”

The girls howled with laughter as Samantha took a little bow. “Guilty as charged. Too bad you’re gay, I was hoping to climb you like a tree tonight.

“No, not gay. Bisexual. My husband is super gay though. And he doesn’t share.”

Shane smiled at how Ilya’s voice went firm when he told the girls Shane didn’t share. It was true. Ilya was his and his alone.

“I’m not super gay, Ilya. Just regular gay.” Shane quipped as Ilya smiled glowingly at him.

As Samantha kept trying to nuzzle against his husband, Miranda asked if they could find a table so they could actually sit and drink. Shane agreed to it, if only to get Samantha’s arms off of his husband.

“Where are you boys from?” Cooed Samantha after the group sat. “Somewhere international of course given Ilya’s sexy accent.” Samantha winked as she pulled her chair closer towards Ilya.

Ilya’s hand shot out and grabbed Shane’s hand with a vice grip but tried to make it seem like a gentle touch. “I’m from Russia. Shane is boring Canadian.”

”I’m not boring.”

”No, just insanely handsome.” Charlotte mused. “You look like Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid—the animated one.”

Shane felt a full body blush crawl up him as all the girls chimed in with their agreement. Samantha howled.

“Prince Eric was, like, 16 years old Charlotte. Are you saying you think teenagers are hot? Cradle robber.” Samantha winked at her friend. “Besides, we all know this Russian here is the hottest in the group. Tell us, what was it like watching the Soviet Union fall?”

”Soviet Union?!” Ilya feigned annoyance. “How old do you think I am?”

This of course began a round of betting amongst the girls and it was decided that the loser would buy the next round of shots. They all took their shots with Carrie throwing out 50, which was the only answer Ilya took genuine offense to.

“I do not even have one grey hair!” Ilya exclaimed as he placed his hand over his chest, amping up his faked annoyance.

“You liar.” Shane chirped. “You dyed your hair right before we started this trip because you were mad with all the greys that have started growing over the last couple of years.”

Ilya dramatically threw his head on the table and began to fake cry. The girls all laughed and each admitted to dying out their greys, as well. The joys of being in your mid 30s is what they all seemed to agree upon.

After the girls finished guessing (with the three others getting fairly close to the actual age of 39), they all decreed Carrie the loser, but since she was the bride, she obviously couldn’t buy the shots. Shane decided to take the hit and bought the next round, if anything, as an apology to Ilya for saying in public that he had been dying his hair for some time now. What he didn’t say in public was that Ilya’s beautiful, thick, and lightly curly hair was beginning to thin. Not that it was something Shane minded as he adored growing older with his husband, but he knew it was an extremely sore spot for Ilya.

Shane returned shortly with lemon drops for all and a vodka shot for Ilya. The group threw back their shots and let out a satisfying ‘Wooooooo’ as the alcohol settled down into their stomachs.

After the second round of shots, Ilya asked Charlotte what she did which prompted Samantha to make a drinking game out of it.

“Guess the job wrong after 5 questions, do a shot!” She exclaimed.

Ilya narrowed his eyes at her. Shane knew it was game on at that point. No one was more perceptive than his husband. Ilya began to pepper Charlotte with questions, and after the 5 were done, he correctly guessed that she was an accountant. Shane did Samantha and failed, guessing that she was a financial advisor. Apparently, she did something called ‘sales operations’, which Shane still didn’t understand what exactly that meant even after she spent almost 10 minutes trying to explain it. That, Samantha said, deserved a second shot for Shane.

Last was Carrie, and Ilya guessed that she was in pharmaceutical sales after just one question. Carrie looked both impressed and aghast with how quickly and accurately Ilya got it, but Ilya just quipped that his friend Sveta had a friend in the same line of business, so he felt confident that he knew the type. Samantha also deemed that response required an extra shot for Ilya, too.

When the girls went, each threw out wild questions like, “do you chop down trees for a living” and “do you work with hoses”. That particular one earned a barking laugh from Ilya, who took the opportunity to place his hand dangerously high on Shane’s thigh. The three burned through their five questions quickly and Ilya, feeling generous, let each girl ask a total of five questions each rather than the initial five total. When none of them guessed it, Ilya finally relented.

”We were professional hockey players until last month. We just retired and this is our celebration vacation. And I think this means all of you have to do a shot, too.” Ilya pulled Shane closer to him and nuzzled his nose into his hair. Shane began to feel particularly warm and wanted to dash away at that moment to take advantage of his husband.

“Oh my god, I didn’t even think to ask about professional athlete.” Charlotte smacked her head in annoyance and the table filled with laughter. “Were y’all, like, good or something? Sorry, I’ve never watched hockey.”

Shane and Ilya stared at each other, trying to determine how much they should say.

“Yeah, we were really good.” Shane decided he would tell them at least a bit. “I ended my career with 7 MLH Cups, Ilya with 5. Only a handful of players can say they’ve won 5 Cups in their career, much less 7. And honestly, Ilya would probably have 6 or 7 Cup wins if he hadn’t taken a step back in his career to make our relationship possible.”

Ok, maybe he would tell it all.

“Is the MLH Cup a big deal?” Carrie hiccupped.

“Not as important as being with the one you love.” Ilya said as he looked adoringly at Shane.

Shane placed his hand over Ilya’s, which hadn’t moved from its place high on his thigh.

“Aw, y’all two are so cute. Like straight out of a Disney movie!” Charlotte cooed as she watched Ilya give heart eyes to Shane.

“Charlotte, oh my fucking god. What is with you and Disney movies.” Samantha pulled Charlotte into a tight hug and mussed with her wig. “And I apologize, I don’t think a single one of us here has watched a single game of hockey in our entire lives. This is Saints country!! Were y’all big like Drew Brees?”

“More like Tom Brady.” Ilya chirped.

Shane was lost. He barely watched American football though he was vaguely familiar with Tom Brady.

”Holy shit guys, we’re drinking with the gay Tom Bradys of hockey.” Miranda threw her head back and howled with laughter. “Can we get a selfie? Do y’all have an Insta?”

“Yes and yes.” Ilya smiled as Miranda pulled out her phone and snapped a couple of group selfies and then began the process of trying to figure out how to tag two official hockey players on her personal Instagram.

“Oh, fuck this shit.” Samantha called out as Miranda fiddled with her phone. “Time for those shots!”

Samantha started to stand before Ilya stopped her and said he would get the next round to pay back for the first one. Shane began to get nervous—this next round was two shots for him and Ilya. They had an early start for tomorrow and Shane wasn’t looking forward to doing the rest of the drive while hungover. Caught up in his thoughts, he barely noticed Ilya returning with a full tray that included 4 shots of vodka. Oh god, Shane really did not think he could do vodka shots tonight. Maybe he could have done another lemon drop, but vodka would almost certainly make him puke.

Shane nervously grabbed his shots of vodka from the tray as the other girls grabbed their lemon drops. He took a sniff of his shot trying to mentally prepare himself for the fiery punishment that was about to hit his throat. Except it wasn’t vodka, at least not any vodka Shane had ever smelled—it smelled a bit like…water.

Ilya stayed standing and held his shot of vodka over the table and winked at Shane. “To awful questions!” He cheered as he encouraged everyone to clink their glasses together.

Shane threw back his shot and immediately began choking. That bastard Russian of his had swapped out vodka for water but that water had hit the back of his throat and now he was violently gagging.

“Ok ok ok, moya lyubov.” Ilya patted Shane’s back. “I think my husband has had enough shots. I’m going to take him back to our room so he can go to bed early like a good boy. And if I have more shots, I won’t be able to fulfill my husbandly duties.”

”Ilya!” Shane shot the Russian a warning glance who merely returned the glare with a soft wink.

The girls laughed and joined the two as they made their way back to the casino. Just as Shane was about to push for a polite exit towards the elevator bank, Samantha butted in screaming that she wanted to go gamble and wanted to throw $20 at the roulette table. Shane and Ilya laughed and agreed to come with the girls. When they got to the table, Ilya pulled out his winnings from earlier in the night.

“Carrie, our wedding present to you. The only condition is you bet on the number I tell you to.” Ilya handed her the envelope filled with cash.

Carrie stared at the cash inside. “Ilya, this is very sweet, but this is a lot of money and I can’t take it.” She tried to push it back into Ilya’s hand but Ilya refused.

“No, remember how we are the gay Tom Bradys of hockey? We were big deal and made lots of money. Please, our gift to you. Hopefully this will turn in to winner. I’m feeling lucky tonight. Put it on 9 black” Ilya winked at Shane and pulled him close to his side.

Shane blushed—here was Ilya always working to prove to Shane how much he loved how long the two of them had been together. He but put his nose in the crook of Ilya’s neck, deeply inhaling. Shane was very ready to go to the room. It was taking his entire willpower to not pop an erection in the middle of the casino floor.

The two watched as Carried took the money out of the envelope and handed it to the dealer to exchange for chips. Dutifully, Carrie placed all of the chips on to 9 black and the group watched as the ball began to roll around the wheel.

”I swear, Ilya. If I lose $1,400 on this bet, I’m going to be so annoyed at that wasted money.” Carrie nervously giggled as the ball spun quickly around the wheel.

“Is money you didn’t have before this moment. If you lose, will mean nothing as you technically lost no money. Have fun! Is your bachelorette party!” Ilya raised his arms and led the girls into another ‘woooooooo’ cheer.

The ball began to slow and then bounced loudly across the wheel. Plop. Plop. Plop.

9 black.

Shane and Ilya froze. Neither of them could even breathe. No. Fucking. Way.

”Oh my god! Oh my god! OH MY GOD!!!!” Carrie screamed over and over again, jumping up and down as the other three girls stood in equal stillness to Shane and Ilya.

“We have a winner!” The dealer called out and pushed a massive stack of chips towards Carrie.

Suddenly, the girls all seemed to realize what was happening and began screaming and jumping up and down. Ilya and Shane remained almost frozen, still in shock that Ilya had guessed a winner three times in a row.

Carrie started crying and screaming louder as she pulled Ilya then Shane into a tight hug. “Oh my god gay Tom Bradys!!!! I love you two so much. Oh my god!!”

“Well,” Ilya finally pulled free of Carrie’s tight hug. “I told you I was feeling lucky tonight, Carrie. Happy wedding! I recommend just cashing this now and get out while you’re ahead.” Ilya whispered into her ear and Carrie nodded.

“This will pay for my wedding five times over…” Carrie mumbled as she exchanged the roulette chips. “How can I ever repay you?”

”You can repay him by buying us more shots. Woooooooooo!” Samantha cheered as she pulled Carrie away from Ilya and Shane.

Before the girls wandered off to finish their night, Ilya grabbed Carrie again in and pulled her into another hug. “Let me tell you a secret behind 20 happy years. Never stop working on your relationship.” Ilya let go of Carrie and gave Shane a large, wet, and loud kiss on the cheek. “But on that note, I feel my luck in the casino is gone. I’m taking my husband back to our room to celebrate my luck tonight.”

Ilya grabbed Shane’s hand and intertwined their fingers. They all said their polite goodbyes, shouted out another ‘Woooooo’, and began to make their way back towards the room.

As they stood in the silence of the elevator, Shane hummed. What a night.

“I can’t believe you won at roulette three times…”

”Technically, only twice. Third time was all Carrie. We split the luck on that last bet.” Ilya gave a light squeeze to Shane’s hand and looked over at him with his crooked grin.

“How much did Carrie win, do you think?”

”Odds were 35 to 1, so…” Ilya looked up and motioned his fingers as he did the math in his head. “$49,000. I’m a bit drunk, but I think my math is right.”

”I don’t know if I’m more impressed with your luck or your math skills.”

Ilya laughed and Shane grinned. People loved to call Ilya stupid but he was far from it. His husband was honestly one of the smartest men he knew. Not only was he able to read people at almost a passing glance, but his math skills were almost unparalleled. Once Harris had found out how good Ilya was at mental math, it had become a running side gag on the Centaurs social media. Harris would frequently catch Ilya coming off the ice after practice and throw complex math questions at him. Ilya had only gotten a question wrong once and that was because Harris had misspoken when he gave Ilya the problem.

“My luck is definitely more impressive. That has never required work.” Ilya laughed as the two walked off the elevator towards their room.

“I still can’t believe you won Carrie almost $50,000.” Shane said as he opened the door.

“Yeah,” Ilya winked as he shoved Shane against the wall as soon as they got into the room and began to attack his neck with sloppy kisses. “But she’ll have to pay taxes on it.”

Chapter End Notes

Comment of kudos if you’re enjoying~

Chapter 4: Tab 4: Austin

Chapter Summary

After surviving Texas heat, questionable road trip decisions, and enough barbecue to shorten their life expectancy, Shane and Ilya finally slow down long enough to enjoy Austin.

Unfortunately, slowing down leaves Shane with entirely too much time to think.

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: Inside Out by Spoon

Sorry about the wait for the few reading this! For some reason, this chapter was really hard to write.

“Shane. I need you to pull over. Now.”

“Ilya, I’m going 65 on an interstate. I’m not pulling over.” 

Shane’s knuckles were white on the wheel. How the FUCK did Ilya drive yesterday? Drivers in the US were absolutely crazy. 

“Shane, you don’t understand. I need you to pull over NOW. I’m about to throw up.”

Ilya grabbed Shane’s arm and forced Shane to look at him. Fuck, Ilya was 3 shades of green darker than he was 5 minutes ago. They weren’t going to make it to a gas station. 

“Shane…”

Acting with the same speed he had on ice, Shane jerked on to the shoulder to allow his husband to throw open the door and begin hurling outside. After several minutes of listening to the wretching of Ilya and a few near misses of cars flying by at way faster than 65, Ilya finally threw himself back into the car. Shakily, he grabbed the water bottle and chugged it before hastily wiping his mouth.

”Ah,” Ilya smacked his lips after finishing the entire bottle. “Much better. How much further until BBQ?”

”Fucking seriously, Ilya? You have been having me pull over every 30 minutes so you can throw up. You want to eat right now?” 

“Yes. Everything is gone now. I feel much better. Now I need greasy meats. How much further to Lockhare.”

”Lockhart” Shane corrected as he eased his way back onto the highway. “And GPS says about 30 minutes. You would know this if you were paying attention instead of acting like a hungover wretch who did 4 shots of vodka last night.”

”Ok Mr. Does Shots of Water. Sorry.” Ilya crossed his arms and looked out the window. 

The remainder of the drive was in silence and for that, Shane was thankful. While his stomach wasn’t nearly bad as Ilya’s, the cotton mouth and general nausea of last night’s bachelorette party coursed through Shane. Honestly, he probably could have let them sleep in this morning, especially considering they didn’t get to bed until well past midnight after a very sloppy and drunk blowjob exchange, but Ilya had put Texas BBQ as a priority on their vacation list. 

6AM wake up it was. 

Shane hummed as they entered the small town and he looked for a place to park in the town square. For the first time since entering Texas, he finally felt like he was in Texas. The town square held a large courthouse encased in red granite, it’s rounded domes reach up to the sky. The square itself was lined with quaint antique stores and little mom & pop stores and restaurants. The town looked just as sleepy as Shane was. 

Cute. Quaint. No tumbleweeds though. 

Shane was disappointed by that. He had never seen a tumbleweed in person but he loved the image of a light tumbleweed blowing across the landscape. Ilya loved old western movies, and while Shane was often bored by John Wayne’s drawl and Clint Eastwood’s glare, he always found himself lost in the beauty of the backgrounds. Texas, thus far, had none of that. 

“Where do we go, binder man?” Ilya asked as he stretched his body, uncomfortable from over four hours of early morning driving. 

Shane laughed and motioned them towards Smitty’s. He had read that while it wasn’t the best brisket in this tiny town, it offered the most charm and history, or so said the travel guides Shane obsessed over for months. Besides, while Ilya loved good food, he ate like an animal and flavor could often be discarded if it met the vibes Ilya was having that day. Smokey and greasy were definitely those vibes. 

It was only after 45 minutes of standing on sidewalk in 100 degree heat that Shane decided Texas BBQ was bullshit and nothing was ever worth this. He had also been lying to himself that morning. This was not a minor hangover. Shane was about to keel over and die and the only way to solve this was a cut of fatty brisket. Ilya practically panting next to him seemed to agree. 

“Hollander, can you believe people live here? The fuck is this shit? I’m dying. This food really worth it? I will eat Big Mac right now.” Ilya whined out. 

“Stop being a cry baby, Rozy, I’m miserable, too. We’re almost to the front. And yes, all the blogs I read said this was worth it.”

Shane was minutes from death’s door when they finally reached the ordering station after standing in line for an hour. He wanted to be mad but before him were huge smokers filled with dark slabs of brisket, racks of ribs, sausages with crisp shells, and all Shane could do was let his mouth water. 

Thankfully, Ilya’s brain was working in addition to his stomach so he ordered a ½lb of just about everything. Ilya sent Shane get utensils and to find them a spot to sit on the long tables inside while Ilya ordered sides and paid for their food. Shane took the mission seriously and went about trying to find silverware. He searched the whole damn dining room and couldn’t find a single fork dispenser. 

What the fuck?

“Moy lyubimyy, what are you doing? Come over here.” Ilya was practically on the other side of the room, motioning towards one of the few open spaces in the dining hall. 

“I can’t find utensils.” Shane said as he sat across from Ilya and their massive tray of food. 

“There are none.” Ilya said matter of factly as he took a huge bite of juicy sausage. “I asked when checking out because I saw you wandering around room like lost puppy.”

Juice from the sausage ran down Ilya’s chin and fingers. Shane grimaced. 

“Shane, oh my God! You have to try this. I think this is the best sausage I’ve ever eaten.” Ilya shoved the sausage into Shane’s face and waved it eagerly. 

Unsure of how to proceed but hunger filling him deeply, Shane reached out to the sausage and took and unsure bite. 

Holy. Shit. 

Now greasy juice was running down his face and fingers, but Shane no longer cared. This sausage was heaven. In the back of his mind, Shane knew heaven didn’t exist, but if it did, it would be this bite of sausage over and over again.

”Oh my god!” Ilya cried out again as he tore a large bite out of the slice of brisket. “If your binder said this isn’t the best brisket in Texas, then I don’t want to know what is! Shane, you have to try this.”

Ilya thrust the floppy, greasy slice of brisket into Shane’s face. Slowly, he waggled the meat as if getting it to flop more would entice Shane to eat it more. Shane finally gave in and grabbed the brisket, taking a large mouthful–manners be damned. 

Oh. Oh wow. 

Shane covered his mouth, trying to hiding the massive hunk of meat he had torn off. He smiled. Ilya was right–if this wasn’t the best brisket in Texas, he sure as hell didn’t want to find out what was. 

“Dahlia, don’t wipe your hands on your dress!” The woman next to them shouted, scolding her young daughter who was trying to rid the grease on her hands onto her beautiful pink dress.

Shane smiled, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth after finishing another mouthful of brisket. The two of them had babysat Pike’s children and the children of the Centaurs so often, they started becoming known as the team Gunkles. Shane hated the term at first, but he grew to love it knowing that it meant he and Ilya were considered uncles to the team’s families. 

But every year the kids got a little bit older. Hayden's youngest, Amber, wasn't really little anymore. Ruby and Emma were already talking about college. For the Centaurs, now they weren’t even on the team anymore. The kids that they babysat for now would probably be the last.

Shane frowned as he reached for another slice of brisket.

Time had a way of moving whether anyone was ready for it or not.

The two continued their lunch, each practically moaning in pleasure with each bite they took, and Shane, thinking of family at home. It was only when Ilya had to stifle a belch after eating a spare rib that the two realized they should stop eating. Both were pleasantly buzzed from the enormous meal and slowly rolled their way out of the BBQ joint after thoroughly washing their hands. 

With one last stretch, the two got into the car with Ilya at the helm. He started up the engine and gave the little Honda Civic a rev of the engine and winked at Shane. 

“Next stop–Austin.” Ilya called out as he threw the car into reverse. 

———

Shane had once heard from the Dallas goalie at an All Star weekend that you should never come to Texas between the months of May - September. Having only visited the state outside of those summer months, Shane thought the goalie was exaggerating. 

No. No he wasn’t. 

Even though their hotel was right on the river, or lake? It was clearly a river but the front desk clerk remarked about the beautiful view of Lady Bird Lake. She also said you shouldn’t swim in it but they could visit a local spring nearby if they wanted to dip in fresh water rather than the hotel pool. 

So they were staying next to a river, or lake, that they couldn’t swim in and it was 100 degrees outside. People lived in this state. 

Willingly. 

“Clothes were sent to hotel laundry.” Ilya called out as he entered their room. “They said it would be back by tomorrow morning. Perfect, since I am wearing my last pair of clean underwear. Hope you’re ok with me sleeping naked tonight.”

Shane audibly rolled his eyes as he watched his husband strut across the room and grab a large bottle of water. He gulped as he watched the Russian man chug the water, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. Shane clenched his fists. No, they had a schedule to keep. Besides, as much as he wanted his husband, Shane was exhausted. The driving plus 3 late nights in a row had killed Shane’s energy reserve. As amazing and sexy as Ilya looked, Shane wasn’t sure his body had an orgasm in it today. 

“Ok Mr. Binder Man.” Ilya wiped the water off of his mouth after finishing the whole bottle. “You said we have concert thing tonight. Take out the binder and show me what we’re doing and when.”

Shane tried to ignore the hint of annoyance in Ilya’s voice and went to grab the binder. Ilya was right, they had tickets to a concert tonight at a place called Scoot Inn for a band that Ilya had been playing on repeat for months now—this was his secret anniversary gift to Ilya. Afterwards, he wanted to go to 6th Street. All of the tour guides described it as dirty, drunk, and unfun, but Troy had told him that it was an ‘absolute shitshow that cannot be missed’ so it couldn’t be that bad, right?

The two worked through the evening’s itinerary and Ilya jumped in glee when he saw the band they were seeing tonight—‘show will be like 5 Fabians playing,’ Ilya had said when Shane showed him the tickets. After laying out the plans for the rest of the evening, Ilya drew Shane in to a deep kiss and palmed at Shane’s crotch. 

“Still so early. Why not have a little fun before we bike over to the bar?” Ilya purred in Shane’s ear as he tightened his hold on Shane’s dick. 

Shane shuddered, but gently pushed Ilya away. “Ilya, I love you, but I’m exhausted. Can we just nap instead?”

Ilya laughed and removed his hand from Shane’s pants and then pressed it against his face, gently stroking Shane’s freckles. He placed soft kisses on to Shane’s jaw and up to his ear, sucking the lobe in and running it between his teeth. Shane hissed and moaned as Ilya grinded into him. 

“Yes,” Ilya let go of Shane’s earlobe and placed his head in the crook of his neck. “Nap sounds really nice, but only if you are the big spoon.”

Shane laughed and raised Ilya’s head and kissed him with a smile on his lips. “I love being the big spoon.”

———

Never in life had Shane been more thankful for a 90 minute nap. Well, maybe the nap he took before Game 7 of his final MLH Cup win ranked slightly higher, but not by much. Renewed with life, the two walked outside across to the lake and rented bikes to take along the lake trail over to East 6th.

The air was still almost stifling hot, but the shade of the trees and the light lake breeze cooled them enough to keep the bike ride pleasant. By the time they reached the mixology bar Shane had read about, he almost didn’t want the bike ride to end. Shane could spend the whole evening biking around—just him and Ilya and that light Austin breeze. 

After a food truck dinner and a few drinks, both were pleasantly buzzed and made their way to Scoot Inn. 

Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the fact that for the first time in nearly thirty years that neither of them had anywhere they needed to be tomorrow. 

No morning skate. 

No film review.

No training schedule. 

No flight to catch. 

Just another day of driving west. 

Shane couldn’t remember the last time he’s felt this untethered.

For his entire life, he’s been counting down to something. Whether it was the next game, the next road trip, season, contract, night snuck away with Ilya. Even this vacation had been planned months in advance, every reservation tucked neatly into the binder sitting back at the hotel. 

But tonight felt different. 

Suspended. 

Like time had paused long enough for him to finally catch his breath. And that breath was standing behind him—firm, sturdy, a wall and shelter. 

Ilya had been right. This band was like watching 5 Fabians take over the stage. The lead vocalist breathed sex as each lyric fell out of his mouth, the guitarist was literally making love to his future, and the keyboardist was ethereal, switching between the keys, his violin, and flute. The sex on stage was almost more than he could handle. 

It made Shane think back to nearly ten years ago, when they saw Fabian perform for the very first time. When Shane had been so terrified of being seen with Ilya that he barely acknowledged him outside of a light touch on his husband’s back. And now, here he was, his full body weight leaning back on Ilya as they stood at wall at the back. Ilya’s arms were wrapped tightly around him and his breath was loud in Shane’s ear. The heat from Ilya’s body radiated outward, pushing Shane to the point of discomfort, but Shane just pushed himself further into Ilya. 

Each time a song ended, Ilya would take his arms briefly away to clap and Shane would almost groan that their absence. And as if sensing his husband’s unending need for him, Ilya would quickly wrap his arms back around Shane and pull him as close as he could. 

Tonight there would only be Ilya. Only the man who could hold him so gently and love him so fiercly. Everything was Ilya. 

Shane never wanted tonight to end. 

———

“No.”

”No.”

”Absolutely not.”

”Absolutely not. No. Nyet.” Ilya grabbed Shane’s hand and yanked them away from 6th Street, or ‘Dirty’ as one of the locals at the concert had told them both during a lull in the show. 

Shane was thankful. One look onslaught was enough to trigger a practical anxiety attack. What the fuck did Troy mean when he said this place could not be missed? It was definitely a shitshow and could definitely be missed. Shane could think of 20,000 things to do other than trying to roam down crowded and piss-covered sidewalks filled with college kids and teenagers with fake IDs. 

Instead, Ilya pulled them down to a quieter street and began moving them in the direction of the hotel. 

“I know it is Saturday, but can we be boring old men and go to bed early tonight?” Ilya intertwined their fingers and nudged Shane closer to him, bringing their faces together so he could place a light kiss onto Shane’s lips. 

“Mmm, you know how much I love being boring.” Shane laughed as Ilya placed another kiss on the side of Shane’s face. 

“I figured.” Ilya winked and walked them hand in hand to walk towards the river and cross it. 

The air was much stiller in the throngs of the tall buildings, but Ilya’s fingers were tight and sure, holding Shane steady to him. They walked in silence as the night air still around them, pausing only once at bridge to overlook the lake that ran through the city. 

As the lake below them slowly flowed and music from a street a musician near them played. Shane could finally see the appeal of this city trapped in this oppressive heat. The city buzzed around them, alive and warm and entirely unconcerned with what tomorrow looked like.

Shane slipped his hand out Ilya's and wrapped his arm around his husband’s waist, pulling him as tight to him as he could. 

For once, he found himself wishing tomorrow would take a little longer to arrive.

Chapter 5: Tab 5: Anniversary

Chapter Summary

Nine years, one anniversary, several questionable tasting notes, and a bird that may or may not be plotting murder.

Austin turns out to be exactly as weird as advertised.

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: Love Survive by Michael Nau

Sorry to my few readers that this took so crazy long to get out. I’ve been on the road weekly for work which makes writing time almost non-existent.

It started at 6:30 that morning. Shane had been sure to check that neither he nor Ilya had set an alarm before they went to sleep the night before—it was their anniversary and both were eager to sleep in. So why did it sound like there was an alarm going off in the room?

Shane groggily opened his eyes and tried to move to shut off the alarm, but Ilya’s arm was draped heavily across Shane’s waist. The alarm stopped. Odd. Shane closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

Then it went off again.

“Shane, I swear to fucking GOD, if you do not turn your alarm off, I will not have sex with you for anniversary.” Ilya grumbled.

Shane reached out to his phone to turn off the alarm, but that wasn’t it. The alarm stopped? Then started again. It sounded like it was coming from outside the window. How the fuck does someone get an alarm right out of the window. On second thought, it sounded less like a phone alarm and more like a…car alarm?

“Shane, turn off your alarm!”

”I don’t have an alarm on, Ilya. It sounds like a car alarm.”

”Uuuuuuuugh.” Ilya yanked his hand away from Shane’s waist and threw his pillow over his head trying to protect his ears from whatever alarm was going off in front of their window.

The car alarm kept going on and off while Shane tried to keep waking. Finally, Shane got the energy and went over to the window to see what the hell was going on. Opening the curtains just a peek, Shane looked outside to find the car. But there was no car. Just a tree branch. With a singular metallic-like black bird with yellow eyes. The bird opened its beak and let out an ear piercing screech that sounded like…a car alarm…

What. The. Fuck.

“Shane, can you please call cops or something? Someone is clearly breaking into a car and I want to sleep.”

”It’s not a car alarm, Ilya.” Shane said as he watched the small bird stare directly back at him, its yellow eyes unmoving and unblinking—the two were caught in a staring contest. “I’m pretty sure it’s this bird here.”

”Hollander, birds do not sound like car alarms. Call cops please.”

The bird squawked again, the sound of a car alarm filling the room.

”Fuck!” Ilya shouted and threw off the blankets. “Just one morning on this fucking trip I want to sleep in.”

Ilya mumbled to himself as he got up to use the restroom while Shane endured the staring contest with this bird. It looked a bit like a crow but a lot smaller and a hell of a lot meaner. The bird screamed out again before deciding it was done cursing Shane and flew away.

Twenty minutes later, Ilya emerged from the bathroom, waving his hand in front of his nose.

“Sorry moya lyubov, but do not go in there. I think BBQ from yesterday upset my stomach.”

Shane grimaced. He needed to go to the bathroom too, but he supposed that it could wait. If Ilya said do not enter, that meant the bathroom was Chernobyl and it would be radioactive for at least the next 30 minutes. Shane had spent far too many road trip mornings using the hotel lobby bathrooms rather than their restroom, and it sounded like this would be just another hotel lobby visit morning.

Some things never change.

After his own visit to the bathroom downstairs, Shane came up to find Ilya dressed in his running clothes doing calf stretches against the wall. Shane looked at him incredulously as both had agreed to try and take it easy on the exercise since they were both retired now, but clearly Ilya had something different in mind.

“Don’t look at me like that, Hollander. Throw on your running clothes and let's run by this river. Morning looks nice.”

”It’s a lake.”

”Only in Texas do they call rivers ‘lakes’…”

Shane shrugged his shoulders but decided to join Ilya in running. His husband had been right—it was a beautiful morning. The heat was already here, but it didn’t seem as oppressive as it had yesterday. Maybe he was finally acclimating to the heat after soaking in it for the past few days.

The two made quick work of ten kilometers since the trail was flat and headed back to the hotel. Before they went up to the room to clean up, Shane stopped by the front desk.

“Uh, excuse me.” Shane asked the woman manning the desk. “But what is that black bird that sounds like a car alarm, and can you all do something about it? It woke us up at 6:30 this morning.”

Shane watched as the woman stifled back a laugh before answering. “Car alarm? I’m not sure I’ve heard that one, but it’s pretty accurate. I’m sorry that it woke you, sir, but unfortunately there’s not much we can do about the grackles. They’re native here and us Austinites have kind of adopted them as our mascot.”

”Your…mascot…?”

”Uh, yeah.” The clerk suddenly seemed mildly embarrassed. “It’s a bit of a joke here, kinda going along with the ‘Keep Austin Weird’ vibes that we’re so proud of. I’m happy to provide y’all both with some ear plugs though. That should help keep the sound grackle’s car alarm to a minimum.”

———

“I thought your binder said this water was super cold. It is not that cold.” Ilya remarked as he sunk into the water until it reached his chest. “Water is a bit gross though…”

Shane rolled his eyes but didn’t want to admit that his husband was right on both counts. The water was cool, but no cooler than the lake their cottage outside of Ottawa sat on and yes, the water was gross. Very gross. A large patch of slimy algae passed by Shane and he was quick to try to flick it away, which then landed directly on top of Ilya’s shoulder.

“What the fuck, Hollander?” Ilya grabbed the algae and threw it back at Shane and then sent a large splash of water back at him. “Not a nice way to treat your gorgeous husband of nine years, but ok.”

Shane laughed and walked over trying not to think about the soft and slimy bed of algae and moss beneath his feet. Barton Springs was nice. Certainly popular but the charm was currently eluding Shane—this place was a top rated destination according to just about every Austin travel blog Shane read.

The two milled about in the crowded spring for a while, both trying to relax while dodging globs of algae. Shane didn’t truly start having fun until Ilya spotted a diving board and attempted to impress Shane with several dives, each increasing in difficulty. This seemed to spur on a few kids to join the diving contest which led to more kids joining.

Before Shane knew it, Ilya was leading a full blown contest for a gaggle of kids, all eager to receive his screaming praise and laughs. Parents soon joined in, each one calling out scores as every kid jumped. It had practically turned into a party and Shane couldn’t contain his smile while Ilya challenged each kid with different types of cannonball splash techniques.

Shane almost thought the fun would be over when one of the parents recognized Ilya and subsequently Shane, but the dad merely gave star-crossed eyes and went back to cheering his daughter who landed a particularly splashy belly flop and bounced her head out of the water with glee. The man eventually made his way over and he and Ilya made small talk about predictions for the next season and did Ilya see the Dallas Stars as Cup contenders this season.

No. Ilya was more blunt than Shane when it came to Dallas’ prospect.

Ilya eventually tired of calling out and playing with the kids and slowly shuffled his way back towards Shane and gave him a loud and wet kiss.

“Sweetheart, I am both freezing and boiling hot and also turning into a raisin. Can we go back to the room?” Ilya asked as he pulled Shane close to him. “I want to go back and wash me and then you and then make you forget what your own name is.” He whispered quietly into Shane’s ear as Ilya hugged him tightly.

There was little Shane could do besides nod an enthusiastic yes. Ilya waved bye to the father he had been chatting with and the two made their way out of the pool and back to the room.

———

Shane almost wanted to say ‘stop’ when Ilya pushed him hard against the wall as soon as they entered their hotel room—but there was Ilya, with his tongue and teeth scraping against the underside of Shane’s jaw. So Shane just threw his head back like the greedy little slut he was. He pulled Ilya tight against, smelling the coconut from his sunscreen and feeling his hard length pressed against his thigh. Shane could practically come from this.

Frantically trying to postpone his orgasm, Shane threw Ilya off of him. Ilya groaned in defiance and tried to nibble his way back in, but Shane held firm and kept Ilya away.

“Shower.” Shane growled as he pushed his hand hard against Ilya’s chest.

Ilya crookedly smiled and walked backwards towards the bathroom, taking off his clothes piece by piece. Shane licked his lips, following Ilya towards the shower and disrobing in the process.

“Be patient.” Shane grunted as Ilya pushed hard against him in the shower while he tried to get the water heated.

“No.” Ilya nibbled at Shane’s ear.

The water was still freezing but Ilya’s heat was pressed tight against Shane. He was shivering but he wasn’t sure which source was causing it. Ilya took one of his strong hands and grazed it across Shane’s abs as he suckled Shane’s earlobe.

Ilya. Ilya was definitely causing it.

Just as the water began to heat, Ilya’s hand trailed down and began to fondle at Shane’s already hard member. “Mmm, you just can’t help yourself can you, moy vozlyublenniy?” Ilya murmured into Shane’s ear.

Shane tried to respond, but all that came out was a strangled cry as Ilya gripped Shane hard and gave a rough stroke. No, he couldn’t help it. Not when Ilya was like this and trying to consume him completely.

Ilya released Shane from his rough grip and reached for the soap, putting a few pumps on his hands. He took those large and calloused hands and ran them across Shane’s body, his long fingers massaging deep into each muscle they passed. Shane was panting and trembling by the time Ilya returned to his engorged member, his husband taking it gently in his hands and giving it a quick pass with soap. Ilya ensured Shane was soaped everywhere he needed to be soaped and pulled him underneath the spray of water.

Beneath the water, all Shane could do was groan as Ilya attacked his neck, suckling hard at the edge of his jaw just where Shane was most sensitive. How was this man his? How did he know Shane’s body so well?

Ilya pulled away briefly and reached for the soap to begin to lather himself, but Shane stopped him. His husband always wanted control, to have Shane shivering beneath him. On any other day, Shane would have gleefully taken that.

Not today.

Shane used a firm grip, honed from decades of hockey, and pushed Ilya against the shower wall. Ilya gasped, his mouth hung slightly open. Shane grinned. He loved surprising Ilya.

Soap in hand, Shane returned the favor to Ilya, hands strumming across his toned body. God, Shane would never get used to how amazing this Russian man felt beneath his fingers, how his muscles rippled and relaxed to Shane’s supple touch. Ilya moaned as Shane reached down, soaping his most intimate areas.

That sound. That sound was one Shane would chase forever. Without abandon.

Satisfied with his soaping job, Shane returned Ilya to the water where he captured his mouth in a languid kiss, his tongue breaching past Ilya’s lips and tasting everything the man had to offer. Ilya pushed against him harder, his tongue battling with Shane’s for dominance.

No.

Shane shoved Ilya back, just a little too roughly, a little too hard. Ilya’s eyes widened and glowered with lust.

Yes.

Reaching behind him, Shane turned off the water and began to towel them off hastily. No more playing. He needed Ilya in all the ways Ilya would give himself to Shane. Towels thrown on the floor, Shane pushed Ilya towards the bed. All the man could do was follow until he was pressed firmly on the bed with Shane on top of him, his mouth hungrily devouring Ilya’s lips again.

“On your stomach.” Shane whispered as he released Ilya’s lips from his mouth.

Wide-eyed, Ilya complied. Shane took a moment to admire the sprawling expanse of the Russian’s back. His broad shoulders built with heavy muscle, his skin perfectly golden from the Texas sun, the dark spots dotted across like constellations. Spot by spot, Shane kissed each one, tracing the map of the stars across Ilya’s back. He felt his husband shiver with each kiss, with each suckle of his lips and lapping of his tongue.

By the time Shane made it Ilya’s perfectly sculpted ass, his husband was shaking with need. As Shane began to massage the firm cheeks, Ilya turned to look at him, his eyes pleading. “Please.” he mouthed.

Shane needed nothing more and spread Ilya’s cheeks, diving his head down and taking that first gentle lick of Ilya’s hole. A quick string of Russian profanity exited Ilya’s mouth as Shane teased Ilya’s entrance with his tongue, switching between long strokes and light flutters. By the time Shane’s tongue had relaxed Ilya enough to make its way inside, the concept of English seemed to have completely escaped Ilya. Shane could stay here for hours. Soaking up each groan and moan, each Russian word flying out of his mouth. He lived to reduce Ilya like this.

“Shane,” Ilya gasped as Shane pulled his tongue out. His husband was whimpering, his body covered in a slick sheen of sweat.

Beautiful.

Reaching over to the bedside table, Shane grabbed the bottle of lube they had stashed in the drawer the night before. Working quickly, Shane lubed up his finger and returned to his work, slowly working his middle finger inside of Ilya. The sound of Ilya’s groan as Shane made it past his second knuckle and pressed on his prostate practically had Shane shooting untouched.

“God, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” Ilya cried out as Shane began to work quickly in and out of his husband. How many more of these words could Shane pull out? He was curious as Ilya began to shake in earnest and started humping the bed. No, that would not do.

Shane yanked his finger out without warning and gave Ilya’s ass a hard slap. “No, you will come inside of me. Raise your ass.” Ilya huffed at the loss of the finger, but to Shane’s delight, he raised his ass for Shane. “Good. Stay there.”

Quickly, Shane ran to his backpack and reached to the bottom, finding exactly what he needed. He returned and grabbed the bottle of lube, coating the thin plug generously before slowly working it inside of Ilya. With every inch, Ilya panted, his hands clenching the sheets, begging Shane to fuck him with it.

“I told you, Ilya, you will come inside of me. Now turn over.” Shane slapped Ilya’s ass hard again once the base of the plug was flush against him and bit his cheek. Ilya moaned, his arms shaking and seemingly unable to move. However, after a slow minute, Ilya finally obeyed and turned on his back.

Shane gasped. Ilya looked thoroughly wrecked. His hair was mussed, his pupils blown, and his body covered with sweat. Shane wanted to lick all of it off of him. No, he told himself. Not right now.

Inching his body forward, Shane sat himself on Ilya’s torso, feeling Ilya’s breath hitch as he squeezed his legs just a little too hard around his husband. Shane grabbed Ilya’s hand and covered his fingers with lube, guiding him to his entrance. Without teasing himself, Shane shoved two of Ilya’s fingers inside of him. Ilya worked quickly and began to press on his prostate and stretch him.

Fuck, this would never get old. This burn would always feel so so so good as Ilya got Shane ready for him.

Shane almost forgot he was supposed to be in charge when Ilya added a third finger and Shane threw his hand back, groaning as the man stretched him further. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Enough.” Shane said in Russian. “Now lay back like the good boy you are and let me do the work.”

Ilya removed his fingers as Shane began to stroke his husband’s cock, thickly coating it with lube so that he could slide down easily. Shane inched back, Ilya’s cock still in his hand, and began to slide down. Ilya stared at him, mouth open and wide-eyed as Shane’s hole eagerly swallowed him.

“Fuuuuuck, Shane.” Was all his husband could conjure up as Shane used his powerful legs to ride him.

It didn’t take long for English to leave Ilya again. There was nothing he could do as Shane slammed on to him over and over and over again. He was babbling, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

Shane could feel Ilya’s body start to tense, the power of Shane riding him with the combination of the plug in his ass seemed to be almost too much. Part of Shane wanted to slow down and draw out Ilya’s orgasm, but watching Ilya thoroughly and completely come apart beneath him was the hottest thing Shane had ever seen.

Ilya cried out, almost screaming, as his cock pulsed inside of Shane, ribbon after ribbon of cum erupting from him. That was all it took for Shane, the feeling of being completely filled, to push him over the edge. His orgasm took him by surprise, blindingly white and powerful, as he came hard and untouched over Ilya’s chest.

Together they panted, each coming down from their own ecstasy. Shane felt Ilya soften inside of him and raised his legs to let Ilya fall out, feeling the Russian man’s come drip down his thighs. Ilya merely groaned and kept his eyes on Shane, his mouth still slack and eyes still filled with a hazy lust.

“Wow,” was all Shane could come up with before he collapsed on Ilya’s chest. Ilya hummed and began to stroke Shane’s hair, breathing the scent of him in deeply.

“Wow.” Ilya returned, a slight giggle on the edge of his voice. “How are we supposed to leave this room after that?”

The two laughed and cuddled together, each whispering sweet nothings as each continued to come down. They would have to leave the bed eventually. Shower, take out the plug, go to dinner. But for now, the world was just them. Just this bliss.

———

Shane was nervous that Ilya wouldn’t like his selection for the anniversary dinner. At the same time, Ilya had also requested they do something small—their trip would be filled with big adventures and dinners, tonight should just be cozy and theirs. So Shane scoured blogs to try to find just the right place and he hoped he was successful with a small wine bar that had an open mic night for musicians on Sundays. Worst comes to worst, Shane and Ilya could chirp about the musicians on their way back to the hotel.

The bar was quaint, just a small house with a large gravel yard covered by low hanging oak trees. It felt perfectly cozy with the sun finally starting to set and the heat of the day dissipating with it. The large sign up front told them open seating and Ilya gestured them to a shaded table near what Shane presumed would be the stage for open mic. Ilya sat first, almost jolting off of the black metal chair the second he sat.

“Holy fuck that is hot!” Ilya shouted.

Shane laughed if only because he would have made the same mistake as Ilya. The two wandered the outdoor area for a bit, looking for non-metal and shaded tables and thankfully found one near the back wall. Ilya quickly snatched up the food menu on the table and began to peruse it.

“Ok, I’m going to go up front and order.” Shane said after giving Ilya a little bit to look at the menu. “Menu is tapas style, so we can order as needed. Anything you particularly want?”

“I want to do the Spanish wine flight, the pork belly, the shishito peppers, the baked brie—oh and the pear and goat cheese pizza!”

“One, we’re going on a guided wine tour tomorrow. You sure you want to do a wine flight? Two, is that order just for you or do you plan on sharing?”

Ilya flashed Shane a knowing glare and Shane merely raised his hands. “Ok, just for you. I’ll find some other things on the menu while I stand in line.”

Shane wandered off to find the bar to order from. While standing in line, he heard the women behind him speak in hushed voices. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled when he could swear he heard the name, but he chose to ignore it thinking that he likely misheard—Shane wasn’t a common name but it popped up enough that one could find it on keychains at tourist shops. Hollander however…

Approaching the front of the line, Shane put in Ilya’s massive order and then ordered a few healthier options for himself along with his own flight of wine. He didn’t want to take it too hard tonight since they did have a private and guided wine tour tomorrow in Texas wine country, but it certainly didn’t help to be prepared. Shane hated to admit it, but Ilya was the wine guy who frequently impressed guests in their homes with bottles—Shane struggled to differentiate the different reds between purple and…purple. Tonight maybe didn’t seem like a purple night, so he decided to go with an Italian white flight. That certainly seemed safe.

By the time Shane made it back to the table with their order placard, the open mic night had started. A young woman was on the stage, gently strumming her guitar and singing a country song Shane could have sworn he heard on the radio the day before. Country had never been Shane’s favorite genre of music—he was more of a folk guy—but his former teammate, Evan Dykstra, ensured the entire Centaur's team had a thorough country music education every time he was in charge of the music during practice workouts.

Ilya was gently tapping his foot and swaying his head as he watched the woman croon out note after note. She certainly wasn’t bad. Honestly better than what Shane was expecting on an open mic night. When she finished her song, both Shane and Ilya gave her a gentle applause as did the sparse crowd that was beginning to fill the patio area.

Just as the woman was about to begin her second song, a waiter appeared with two flights and placed them in front of Shane and Ilya. “This one here,” the waiter pointed. “Is the El Camino featuring wines that can be found along the famous pilgrimage route. And this one is the Vino Bianco, a sampling of refreshing Italian whites. Tasting notes are here.” The waiter handed each of them a notecard. “Please don’t hesitate to come back up to the front with any questions or would like a glass of anything you try here. Y’all enjoy!”

It barely took a second for Ilya to grab his first wine, a…white wine…that Ilya swirled in its glass and then brought his nose to, hovering it just over the rim before he took a large whiff. He then swirled it again and held it against the fading sunlight, his bright blue eyes piercing the glass looking at…something. After thoroughly examining the liquid, Ilya finally took his first sip and made an incredibly small “O” shape with his lips, sucking in a small bit of air. He smacked his lips one, then twice, and shrugged his shoulders before putting the glass of wine down.

This was Ilya’s ritual any time he tried new wine. Ilya had tried to teach it to Shane before, but since Shane only had the occasional drink during the offseason (and that drink was primarily light beer), the lessons never stuck with him. So Shane watched in amazement as Ilya went through each wine, repeating the same steps as he had with the first glass until he reached his fourth and final glass.

“Wow, these are all amazing.” Ilya said as he placed the last glass down. “The alberiño at the start was a real surprise. It had a touch of peach to it that I noticed wasn’t on the tasting card, but it was just as bright and ‘mineral-y’ as the card said. I really love it. Maybe we can do the Camino one day Shane. Drink wine as we rest our sore feet.” Ilya looked at Shane curiously. “Do you even know what the Camino is, Shane?”

Shane shrugged. He didn’t have a clue. Ilya sighed and swirled the glass of alberiño in his hand and took another sip. Shane couldn’t claim that Ilya was the most cultured man he had ever met, but at moments like this, Shane was keenly aware that his complete and utter devotion to hockey had left him lacking in a lot of the ways of the world. Ilya smiled in his knowing and kind way and motioned for Shane to drink from his flight.

Slowly, Shane picked up the first glass of his flight and imitated what he had seen Ilya do. But when he tried to make the same “O” face and suck in just a bit of air like he had seen Ilya do countless times, Shane began hacking as the wine splattered the back of his throat.

“It’s, uh,” cough. “It–” cough. “It’s definitely white.”

Ilya threw his head back with a quick howl of laughter as Shane tried to catch his breath from the wine stuck in his lungs. Shane coughed for another minute, feeling like Ilya after he took too big of a hit off of a joint. If this coughing was what smoking weed felt like, Shane was sure that he would never regret turning Ilya down any time he offered him a hit off of a bowl or joint.

“Come on, Hollander. Are you even trying? What do you taste? You have to sound more sophisticated than, ‘This tastes white.’ Is it stone fruit like peach? Sour like unripe pear? Tell me.”

Ilya reached out and snagged the tasting card from Shane's tasting tray before he could get a hold of it and maybe, sort of, kind of…cheat. Not that Shane would ever cheat, of course. Shane was above all of that.

Swirling the glass of wine again and taking a deep sniff, Shane smelled…wine. Definitely white wine. Smelled like white wine. Sweet white wine. Better white wine than he had that time his secondary school girlfriend shoplifted after Shane’s team had won a big game. That wine smelled like petrol. This wine smelled like…white wine.

Shane sighed and took a sip. It was a little sweet, not very. Kind of fruity, but he wasn’t sure which one. It also tasted much better on this second sip and was quite refreshing. Shane could absolutely drink a second glass of this tonight.

“It’s good. Tastes like fruit and is refreshing. I like it.” Shane smiled and raised his glass to Ilya.

The two chinked their glasses together and watched the next act begin. This man was decidedly less talented and the ukulele that he had strung across his chest seemed like it was more for decoration than actual skilled training. Ilya made a quiet chirp in Russian, then leaned across the table for a quick kiss. Shane eagerly leaned over and remarked to himself that he never thought he would get to kiss the person he loved in public like this. Especially in Texas. But Austin wasn’t Texas as he had been told at the concert last night.

Before the next round of tasting, Shane stole Ilya’s tasting card and tested him on each note of each glass. It felt impossible that his husband was so skilled at detecting these minute smells and tastes especially considering the two, until this trip, rarely drank. By the end of the flight, Ilya had scored a 100% plus extra credit and Shane managed to score a “this tastes like a different white wine”...or 5% according to Ilya. Only because he thought Shane was cute when he tried to imitate him tasting the wine.

In the end, they decided to buy a bottle of the alberiño to split. As they drank, Ilya tried to point out the different flavors and levels. How to swirl the wine and watch the ‘legs’ fall, whatever that meant. Shane was happy to play along watching his husband animatedly explain the different varietals of pears and which one could be tasted in this particular vintage (which was apparently a good one). Maybe Shane should have gotten Ilya a subscription to Wine Spectator for Christmas.

The evening wore on as did the radiant heat. After their bottle was finished, both felt sufficiently tipsy and decided to walk the 30 minutes back to their hotel rather than grab a ride share. Shane smiled as Ilya interlocked their fingers and step by step, they made their way towards their hotel.

“I had a wonderful day.” Ilya hummed as they strolled down the road. “Thank you for planning all of this. You did a great job.”

Shane squeezed Ilya’s hand tightly and contentedly sighed. It had been a wonderful day. Months of research had led to this–the perfect day. Yeah, it was a bit hotter than he would have liked, but he wouldn’t change a second of today if he could.

“You ready for real wine tasting tomorrow?” Ilya asked as they walked through the park leading towards their hotel. “Think you’ll be able to tell purple from purple? I tried to give a better education tonight. Don’t disapoint your teacher tomorrow.”

“Oh? What happens if I disappoint you Mr. Rozanov?” Shane shot Ilya a mischievous grin.

“Mmm, that’s ‘Mr. Rozanov-Hollander to you. I’ll be deducting points for that tonight.”

“Points? Do you have other tests?” Shane was practically purring.

“I can think of a few.”

Shane tried to steady his breath as he thought of other tests that Ilya might have in mind for him. God he loved this. This time where he and Ilya had an unlimited expanse of time in front of them. No game to practice for. No tape to review. No on-ice performance to improve. Just Shane and Ilya and the hot summer evening.

Some days, Shane still expected hockey to come looking for him. But not today. Not tomorrow. Not next year.

“What are you most excited for next?” Ilya asked, seemingly trying to delay their time outside as their hotel rapidly approached in front of them. “Wine tasting tomorrow? The observatory? Grand Canyon? Portland?”

“You missed a few spots between those.”

“Is not the point.” Ilya said, waving his hand and stopping them just outside of the hotel door. Grabbing Shane by the waist, Ilya pulled the two of them close together and looked at Shane with eyes filled with devotion.

Shane wrapped his arms around Ilya’s shoulders and smiled. “I’m looking forward to the Grand Canyon. I’ve always wanted to see it. Salt Lake will be fun, too. Then going through Oregon wine country. I love watching you get excited about wine.”

“You are not excited for Portland?” Ilya asked, his fingers rubbing circles on the small of Shane’s back.

“Are you?”

“Yeah! Always heard great things. They even made a TV show about it.”

“Ilya, you never even watched Portlandia.”

“Is on Netflix. I know it exists.”

Shane laughed and rested his head on Ilya’s shoulder. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to Portland. Lots of good vegan food there.”

“Please don’t tell me you put a list of vegan-only restaurants for us to go to in Portland…”

Shane stiffened in Ilya’s arms and attempted to shake his head no. “Want me to quiz you on the binder to see where we’re gonna eat?”

Ilya laughed and pulled Shane away from his shoulder and kissed him deeply, his tongue playing on Shane’s lips, asking for entrance. “I thought I was the one quizzing you.” He said as he tried to push the kiss deeper.

“Not here.” Shane whispered, trying to push Ilya away without offending him. Even after all these years, being too close like this in public made him uncomfortable.

Ilya groaned but accepted that he would just have to press Shane harder once they got back into the room. Shane was fine with that.

“Happy Anniversary.” Ilya said as he pressed their foreheads together, knowing not to press his luck by attempting another deep kiss.

“Happy Anniversary.” Shane returned, pulling Ilya’s head towards him and capturing his husband’s lips between his. He was going to let Ilya know that he could be full of surprises tonight.

The two made their way back to their room, hands clasped tightly together. Just as Ilya had Shane pressed against the bed, his mouth working hungrily at Shane’s neck, there it was again–the car alarm.

“I swear to fucking GOD, Shane. I will murder this bird!” Ilya called out as he threw Shane’s shirt hard at the direction of the window.

“Oh come on now. Maybe we should be a little loud. Maybe he’s just asking to hear our mating call.”

Ilya threw his head back in laughter before he returned back to Shane’s neck and ears. “Mmm, yes. I think he will like our mating call.”

Chapter End Notes

Comment or leave kudos if you like :)

Chapter 6: Tab 6: Wine in the Hill Country

Chapter Summary

Shane is determined to master the art of wine tasting. Ilya is determined to pet every animal in the Texas Hill Country.
Only one of them succeeds.

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: Map of Manhattan by Sorcha Richardson

So sorry for the delay in ch. updates my few dear readers. I was on the road for work for 3 straight weeks, but work has calmed down a bit so hopefully releases will be much more consistent now~

Mornings in Austin were something Shane could get used to. At least, this is what he thought when he went for a quick jog while Ilya opted to sleep in a bit more. The trail by the river-lake was stunning and everyone here had the habit of waving ‘Hi’ or saying ‘Good morning’ as he passed by them–Shane had hardly felt so welcome anywhere in his life. If it wasn’t for the oppressive summer heat, Shane could definitely see owning a small condo or townhome here. Maybe something to talk to his financial advisor about…

The sun was full and crispy by the time Shane finished his run, and the sun was full in his room when he was greeted by a naked Ilya at the door who demanded several deep kisses before Shane could scurry off to the shower. When Ilya came to join him in the shower despite still being damp from his own, Shane almost regretted going for his run as it took away time from him thoroughly mapping the moles across Ilya’s back with his fingers. Instead, the two opted to quickly jerk each other off in the shower before changing into their singular pair of nice clothes and dropping their laundry with the hotel again.

When all was said and done, their private van taking them to the Texas hill country for personally guided tours had arrived. Ilya had already slinked off and bought them each an iced coffee, which Shane was thankful for as even with the van blasting them with AC, the July heat still baked the inside of the car.

Their tour guide was a plump woman named Carla in her late sixties who had a slight drawl and the proclivity to keep calling Ilya ‘hon’ every time he asked her a question. She handed them each a small folder containing the four wineries they were going to visit over the next 8 hours and then pulled out a giant tray of meat and cheese which Ilya gleefully began to devour.

“Where are y’all from?” Carla asked as Ilya took a large bite of cheese and crackers.

”Mhm mm hm ottwhahmm.” Ilya attempted to say as he coughed on the dry crackers.

“Sorry, my husband lacks class. We’re from Ottawa, Canada.” Shane lightly ribbed Ilya who rolled his eyes and continued eating.

“Oh bless your hearts, y’all must be melting in this heat!” Carla pulled an affectionate hand over her heart. “I’m born and raised just outside of Burnet and even I’m feeling the heat this summer.”

Shane flinched. He had heard they used ‘bless your heart’ down in the southern United States as an insult and didn’t care much for the fact that their tour guide was already keen on slinging mud–it felt opposite of the warm welcome he had received in Austin thus far.

Deciding that he didn’t want to spend the next eight hours being politely insulted by an older southern woman, Shane spoke up. “I’m sorry, not to be rude but…isn’t ’bless your heart’ used as an insult in Texas?”

Carla brought her hand back to her chest and gave a hearty laugh. “Oh heaven’s no, Shane! It’s not an insult. It’s always offering sincere condolences to someone's unfortunate situation…It’s just that sometimes someone’s unfortunate situation is that they’re an idiot.”

Shane frowned. He definitely didn’t like being called an idiot. Carla seemed to have caught Shane’s bad mood and tried to fix it.

“Sorry, I’m not calling y’all idiots. It really is hot. I do really feel bad for how hot you must feel since I take it that y’all aren’t used to 100 degree weather. Hence, bless your heart. My condolences to your discomfort. It’s sincere, I swear.” Carla now had both hands on her chest and was trying to make the attempt of being sincere in her explanation. “I think my humor is getting lost in translation. I’m sorry, I’ll avoid saying it for the rest of the trip.”

”No no, I like it!” Ilya cut in as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Like, ‘Bless the Metros' hearts, they have sucked at hockey since they fired my husband.’ Did I get it?”

”Yes,” Carla laughed. “You’ve got it. Just don’t say it to their face. That’s rude then. Only use it rudely behind someone’s back. That’s the Texas way.” Carla gave a subtle wink at Ilya and went on to explain the first winery they were going to was about an hour drive from where they were now.

Shane balked at the time, but Carla insisted that he would be loving it on the drive back when they were trying to sober up. Also, make sure to load up on crackers for extra carbs. Ilya was far ahead of Shane on that front.

———

As they approached their first winery, Carla gave them the rundown of what to expect. William Chris Winery was apparently considered a premium wine in the hill country and Ilya was growing eager to put it to the test. Shane was impressed by the winery, with its low slung oak trees whose branches nearly touched the ground and tidy lawn that was trying to fight the worst of the summer heat. It looked like a picture taken directly from Instagram and Shane wasn’t sure if he loved or hated that.

Carla set them up at their table and Shane admired the vineyard beyond the tasting room while Carla tracked down their server. “The low trees are both disturbing and very charming.” Shane muttered as he watched a young couple take a picture with one of the trees.

“Mmm, yes, I noticed a lack of trees, too. I mean, there are trees, but so tiny!” Ilya pointer finger and thumb together drawing a small laugh from Shane. “I don’t know if you can really call these things trees. What are those small weed trees called?”

“Shrubs?”

“Yes, shrubs! No trees here. Only shrubs. Beautiful shrubs. But just shrubs.”

“Say shrubs one more time.”

“Shrubs.” Ilya winked as he plopped in olive in his mouth and removed the pit. Shane reached out and grabbed his hand, strumming his thumb over Ilya’s. “Ya tebya lyubyu.” Ilya said as he laced their fingers together.

Shane stared into Ilya’s eyes, letting the breeze and silence pass over them. He was still in disbelief that he could love this man so much after nine years of marriage. Would he still be so madly in love in another nine years? In thirty? Why even think that when Shane knew he would.

“I love you, too.” Shane said back, squeezing their fingers tightly together.

“Hi y’all!” A bright and perky red-haired twenty-something popped up at their table. “My name is Terri and I’ll be your private server today. Now, your tour comes with our pre-fixed menu letting you taste reds and whites, but if you prefer one to the other, just let me know and I’m happy to swap it out.

“Uh,” Ilya’s voice caught in his throat. He watched as Ilya subtly dropped his gaze to the woman’s chest, her red gingham shirt pulled tightly across it. “I’m fine with a mix of both.” Ilya rubbed at his nose and blinked, shifting his gaze back to Shane.

“Same.” Shane smiled up at the waitress; her red hair was tied in to loose braids and she had a smattering of freckles across her face. She was very cute, even Shane could admit that.

“Sounds good. Do y’all want anything other than the bread and olives here? It’s not a part of your package, but you can pay separate if you want anything to eat.”

Ilya shook his head, his eyes glancing briefly at her chest again. Terri smiled at both of them and went to get their flights. Shane couldn’t help but notice Ilya’s eyes following Terri’s ass the entire time she made her way back to the bar to grab the first bottle.

“Subtle.” Shane winked at Ilya, causing him to immediately straighten up and grasp Shane’s fingers tighter.

“Sorry.” Ilya muttered and played with the edges of Shane’s fingers.

“Don’t be. She was cute. And you were subtle, Ilya. Well, more subtle than I was when you caught me checking out that rugby player we met in London last year.”

“Yes, you were practically drooling. Please tall, big rugby man, take me up to my room and swallow me up. I could see the scene playing in your eyes.”

Terri arrived just as Shane disentangled their fingers and playfully swatted at Ilya.”Uh-oh, too early in the day for a lover’s quarrel.” She coyly remarked as she poured their first glass, an alberiño.

Ilya hummed in delight as she poured it and quickly swirled the wine in his glass to take a look and Shane copied him, trying his best to remember the lessons Ilya gave him last night. After a few swirls, Shane gave it a sniff and decided that it smelled floral and fruity. The first sip was…fruity…

“What do y’all taste?” Terri asked as each of them finished their first sips.

“Pear?” Shane blurted out, still unsure of himself but desperate to prove to Ilya that he had listened the night before. Ilya cocked his eyebrow at him and smiled, taking another sip from his glass.

“Yeah! Pear is definitely a big forward note on this one. I love the honeysuckle on the last note and a slight hint of banana. Almost reminds me of a South African pinot grigio.” Terri went on to explain all the different notes that could be tasted and smelt in this alberiño but Shane heard almost none of it. Shane FINALLY got wine right.

Shane shot Ilya a challenging look and his husband merely raised his hands and smiled before reaching back out to take another sip, finishing off the glass. Terri ran off to get the next bottle as Ilya played with his now empty glass.

“Pear, huh?” Ilya asked, his finger running across the rim of the glass.

“Yeah, pear.” Shane took the last sip from his glass. “And floral on the nose.”

“What kind of pear? What flower?”

“Honeysuckle.”

“Honeysuckle?”

“Yes, Terri said–”

“Terri said honeysuckle was a tasting note, not a smelling note.”

“You’re just jealous I got it right before you.”

Ilya cocked his eyebrows at Shane and then turned his attention to Terri and tried to not stare at her tight-fitting top. Terri gave them their next pour, a malvasia bianca, and Shane–again–nailed the tasting note–pear. Ilya went on to fill in Shane’s blanks and talked about how much he loved how it was a bit buttery and had a backnote of lychee.

Their third glass was a Rosé and all Shane could get was fruit. Ilya, of course, cut in talking about apples and lemongrass. “Refreshing,” he had said. By the time they reached their fifth and final glass, a bold malbec, Shane could only taste smoke and charcoal, which he was fairly certain weren’t adequate descriptors of anything. Iya, yet again, broke down how strong the tannins were (whatever the fuck a tannin was) and how it was like sitting in a cigar shop (gross).

Terri applauded both of them and let them know how well they did–how lucky she was to get to serve such handsome men who knew so much about wine. A deep blush crossed Ilya’s and he took a deep inhale before reaching across the table and pulling at Shane’s hand.

“Moya lyubov, you did very well. Listened very well last night. Smoke and charcoal were good notes.”

“I think I was just copying you saying cigar shop.”

“Mmm, no. You were not just copying me. Tasted like shit–they used charcoal to make it taste more tannic. Hate that shit.”

Shane had no idea what Ilya was talking about so he just nodded his head and took a sip of his water. Before long, Carla returned back to them to whisk them away to their next location.

“How do y’all feel about wildlife?” Carla asked as the three of them got buckled into the short limo.

“Depends on the wildlife. Bambi? Love it. That black bear that kept trying to break into our garage last year at the cottage trying to get to our garbage? No thank you.” Ilya leaned back in his seat and took a large swig from his water bottle before grabbing the fresh cheese and crackers that Carla had laid out.

“Ok.” Carla laughed. “Well these two are in an enclosure.”

—---

“Shane, holy shit, there are rhinos!” Ilya was practically jumping as he saw the two rhinos in their large enclosure.

“Yes, rhinos, Ilya. Some say they are the horniest animals.” Ilya barked with laughter as Carla quipped at him. “Why don’t y’all go take some pictures and I’ll get your table set up. Be back here in ten.”

Ilya needed no additional permission to sprint towards the fence, staring at the large rhino just three feet away behind another fence. His husband was already snapping selfies by the time Shane caught up, and the Russian man quickly pulled him into a tight embrace so that Shane could be in the pictures, too. After an absurd number of pictures, Ilya turned his attention back towards the rhino and began to sweet talk to it just like he spoke to Anya. Which Shane absolutely did not record and then send said recording to his parents. Who definitely didn’t immediately text back “lol” after seeing the video.

Satisfied after almost 100 pictures, Ilya finally grabbed Shane’s hand and the two walked back to their table where their first pour was already waiting for them. It was a white, a pinot grigio, according to the tasting card. Shane tried to not look at the tasting tasting notes and took a deep breath. He had this.

With great intensity, Shane swirled the glass around, vigorously coating the wine glass with traces of pinot grigio. He watched as the legs fell, doing wine leg things, and took a small sip. It tasted like…pear?

“Pear?” Shane said aloud, looking at Ilya as he finished his first sip. Ilya cocked his eyebrow. Shane furrowed his brow and looked down at the tasting card. The first tasting note for the pinot grigio was–pear. “Ha!” Shane exclaimed and pointed at Ilya. “First note says pear. I know how to taste wine now!”

Ilya merely rolled his eyes and finished off his glass as the waiter came to pour their next glass–a viognier.

Now that Shane understood the science of wine tasting, he showed off another exaggerated swirl of his wine glass and watch as the wine ran down the glass. This was supposed to tell him something, but he still couldn’t figure that one out. This one definitely smelled fruity. Like fruit fruit. What kind of fruit? Shane looked at Ilya, his eyes pleading for an answer. Ilya sighed and swirled his own glass and took a light sniff.

“Passionfruit.” Ilya deadpanned before he took a small sip. Shane watched as Ilya rolled the sip over his tongue. “Hmm, very complex. Maybe a wine master can help me.”

Shane rolled his eyes and took a small sip. Did this smell like passionfruit or taste like passionfruit? Shane hated passionfruit.

“Uh, tropical?” Shane stuttered out as he tried not to gag on the sip of wine. He peeked at the tasting note–’hints of tropical’. Oh yeah. He was the fucking MASTER OF WINE!

On their fifth glass, Shane was humming, pleasantly buzzed, and obsessed with watching the rhino’s tail twitch to knock off the flies. Distantly, he heard Ilya call out to him, but the wine had pushed him into feeling perfectly floaty.

“Hollander.” Shane heard called out and he finally snapped to. Ilya looked at him with his concerned eyes and Shane nodded back that he was fine. “Ok…well Mr. Already Drunk. What do you taste on this cabernet franc?”

“I’m not–I’m not drunk yet, Ilya.” Shane took a sip of wine, which accidentally turned into a gulp. He coughed loudly and banged on his chest to try and discharge some of the liquid that had made its way into his lungs. “Maybe tipsy…”

“Ok lightweight. What do you taste?”

“Uuuuuuuuuh.” Fuck, what did he taste? He coughed up his last sip and his wine glass was empty. “Chocolate?”

“Chocolate? In a cabernet franc?” Ilya looked at him incredulously.

“Yeah.” Shane tried to add some confidence to his voice.

“Tasting card does not mention chocolate.”

“The tasting card is wrong.”

“Okay.” Ilya grinned and put the card back down. “Carla said they would feed us pizza after the flight. Be good and drink water at lunch or be bad and buy a bottle of that pinot grigio we both liked?”

“Ilya, this is our retirement trip. Definitely bad! But let’s still drink some water, too.”

“Mmm, yes. This is why I married you. I need a responsible husband.” Ilya reached out and brushed his thumb across Shane’s freckles. “And a very handsome one, too.”

—---

“Ok, for our next stop, this winery is more…show…than wine?” Carla stated as they made their way down the road.

“Huh?” Shane had gotten distracted by staring at Ilya’s blue eyes and hadn’t heard Carla’s comment.

“Well, as the tour guide, I’m not officially supposed to be saying the wine is bad. And it’s not! Per se…”

“Carla, why are you taking us to a bad wine place? My gorgeous husband said best Texas wine only. William Chris was decent and wine was from Texas. Rhinory was good, but the wine was not from Texas. Now you take us to a bad winery?” Shane could hear the wine in Ilya’s voice. Maybe the bottle of wine with the pizza wasn’t a good idea.

”Well, Shane mentioned that you enjoy, how do I put this, ’experiences’. Let me look through my notes. Ah yes, he said, and I quote, ‘Ilya likes style over substance. Find a place fun for us to go and I can assure you, he won’t care about the wine. Plus, I don’t know much about wine, so nothing will be lost on me.’ That’s exactly what Shane said on the phone to me.” Carla removed her reading glasses and gave Ilya a playfully stern look.

“Heeeeeey,” Shane called out. “I will have you know that I am a wine master now. I got, like, 3 of the last tastings 100% right.”

”Pear, sweetheart. You got pear.”

”Pear is a tasting note!”

”Shane’s right, Ilya. Pear is a tasting note.” God Shane loved Carla. Who was this woman and could she move to Ottawa with them?

“Yes, but what pear Shane? What pear did you taste?” Ilya quipped back, his eyes amused and slightly glossy.

“What pear did you taste?” Take that Ilya.

“For the alberiño, I tasted a Bartlett. Crisp and refreshing. For the viognier, I tasted Comice pear.”

”You’re a Comice pear.”

”Aw, moya lyubov, you just called me sweet and juicy. I love you, too.”

Carla began to cackle and started to write down notes in her binder. Ilya, Shane noticed, had taken his phone out and was now vigorously texting.

“How do you know so much about pears, Ilya?” Shane asked, snuggling closer to try and get a glimpse to see who Ilya was texting. Ilya quickly moved his phone out of Shane’s line of sight.

“Harris. His family may own an apple orchard, but pears are used for ciders, too. He taught me about all the different pears they’ve been trying over the years for their pear ciders. Has been fun.”

Shane never realized that Harris and Ilya talked so much about fruit. Maybe it made sense as Harris and Troy were frequent guests at their house and Troy tended to spend time with Shane, leaving Harris and Ilya to their own devices. Harris and Ilya together were…a lot. The sound from the two bouncing off of one another often reverberated down into the basement that Shane and Troy would frequently hide in when their husbands were on their third glass of wine or cider.

A few short minutes later, they pulled into their next winery—a curiously named place called Fat Ass. The iron rod gate boasted a giant donkey and the landscape provided little else beyond flat and green grass quickly roasting into brown. The parking lot was gravel and just beyond it was a large enclosure with…a donkey. A very cute donkey.

“Donkey!!!!” Ilya was already squealing and eager to get out of the car. “Carla, please come take our pictures! Wait, do we also get to pet the donkey? Can we please pet the donkey? Donkey! Wait for me, I want to pet you!”

Ilya was halfway to the enclosure before Shane had managed to get a foot out of the car door. “Can he actually pet the donkey?” Shane asked as he helped Carla out of the car.

“Yes. If it lets you.” Carla smoothed her shirt and walked with Shane towards the donkey that Ilya was now snapping pictures of and trying to give direction to the poor animal about how it should pose.

“Ok, first me and Shane.” Ilya thrust his phone into Carla’s hand and pulled Shane close to him, giving him a giant and wet kiss on the cheek. Carla snapped several pictures of Ilya hanging and drooling over Shane before Ilya grabbed Carla and pulled her into several selfies with the donkey.

Shane was positive that Ilya’s cloud storage was full with the number of pictures he was taking of the donkey, but there was little he could do. He lived for his husband’s enthusiasm, and it was more on display here than Shane had seen in a long time. That unbridled, unchecked joy.

Retirement looked good on Ilya.

Eventually, Carla ushered them inside where she quickly rounded up their server and had their first glass of wine poured. Carla warned them that the wine here was on the sweet side, so Shane tried not to be surprised when he took the first sip of moscato.

Shane gagged. Sweet was definitely a tasting note.

Ilya took his first sip and tried not to gag, but Shane saw his face. His lips thinned before he quickly stuck his tongue out and gasped in disgust. “This tastes like petrol.” Ilya cried as he attempted another sip. He gagged again. “Definitely petrol.”

Shane raised the glass to his nose and tried to decipher the scent over the cloyingly sweet smell. It did smell a bit like gasoline. He took another sip and gagged again.

“Sorry.” Shane pushed the glass away. “Too sweet. Tastes like strawberry candy.”

”Very good, Shane!” Carla called out as she looked at the tasting card. “Strawberry and candy are the two notes for this moscato. I thought you said you know nothing about wine.”

Shane shot Ilya a competitive glance and Ilya merely narrowed his eyes. Game. Fucking. On.

The next glass came out—a Chardonnay. Shane swirled the glass. This smelled distinctly white. Like a white wine. What white wine should smell like. He thought.

The taste? Ugh, burned caramel that had been run through the dishwasher. Vile. He tried not to gag but Ilya made a blech sound and Shane quickly followed suit.

“Burned butter.” Ilya called out. “And an attempt at green apple but it just tastes like candy apple.”

”I’m impressed with you, hon.” Carla said as she twirled the tasting note card in her fingers. “Butter and green apple are the first two notes. Your husband was right, you are good.”

”Carla, this wine tastes awful.” Ilya said as he dumped the remainder of the wine into the spit bucket.

“Yes, but the donkey was cute, wasn’t it?”

Ilya smiled and accepted the third pour from the waiter. Allegedly, this was supposed to be a Zinfandel, which made Ilya very excited. If Ilya was excited, then Shane should be, too.

Shane eyed the glass of pale red wine suspiciously. He swirled it in as large of a fashion as he could in the tiny tasting glass and took a large inhale—it smelled a bit like Jolly Rancher, watermelon Jolly Rancher to be exact. Unsure what to make of a wine that smelled like Jolly Rancher, Shane braved his first sip.

”This—“ Shane tried to speak up before gagging on the overly sweet red. “Candy, tastes like candy.”

Ilya laughed and took his sip and gagged in the same fashion. “Jesus Christ, Carla. What the fuck is this wine?”

”But the donkey was cute, right?”

”Yes, but it didn’t let me pet it. Minus one star for the mean donkey. Minus three stars for the bad one. That’s negative four stars. If last wine is bad, that will be five negative stars.”

”I can’t make promises, Ilya.” Carla smirked coyly as Ilya dumped the remnants of his glass into the spit bucket and then did the same with Shane’s.

The fourth and final glass arrived and it was supposed to be a Port wine. Shane assumed that meant it was wine made in ports because why else would it be named Port. This made sense.

This wine also wasn’t terrible. It was overly sweet but it had a nice chocolate undertone, which Shane enjoyed. Granted, he wasn’t sure if he actually enjoyed it or if his tastebuds were merely dying as he was beyond the drunk side of tipsy.

“Red.” Is what Shane managed to get out as he threw the last of the Port back.

“Mmm, yes Mr. Wine Master. Tastes like red.” Ilya agreed and drained his glass, as well, the only one he had finished at this stop. “Ok, I want to try get some touristy stuff at the gift ship and pet the donkey again. Then let’s go drink some good wine please, Carla.”

Carla accompanied Ilya to the giftshop while Shane ran to the restroom. By the time he returned, Carla and Ilya were laughing in stitches and Ilya had a bag filled with random items that would definitely NOT fit in their backpacks. Shane waved at the two of them to start moving outside, and Ilya made a beeline for the donkey yet again, his plastic bang clanging around. Despite the large bag of junk, this time Ilya was successful in petting the donkey.

Shane made sure to get a picture just as the donkey turned away, flashing Ilya with a great view of its ass.

———

“Last stop, boys! Welcome to Signor Vineyards!” Carla called out, interrupting Ilya as he pressed a little too intimate of a kiss on Shane’s neck.

Shane flushed and pushed Ilya away, he gave a not quite inaudible groan. This man would be the death of him. Undeterred, Ilya grasped at Shane’s fingers and locked them into a tight grasp, his thumb rubbing suggestively against Shane’s. Yes, this man would be the death of him. Did they really need to visit a fourth vineyard? Couldn’t they just make the drive back to the hotel now.

Maybe it was the bad wine from the last stop, but Shane felt distinctly like a horny teenager. He realized he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of Ilya this entire trip. Not to say their sex life had ever lulled, but it certainly hadn’t been this incessant touching and fucking since their honeymoon. A deep blush crawled across Shane’s face and he turned to look at his gorgeous husband. He never wanted to stop touching him.

The two watched, hands clasped tightly together, as they drove down the paved road surrounded by white picket fences. It was quiet and quaint and exactly what he had been expecting when it came to Texas winery—everything felt very southern, down to the ‘Wine Barn’ that sat in front of them as the car came to a stop. Hopefully the wine here was better than the last stop, but Shane was fully drunk at this point and he didn’t think he would be able to taste anything

However, Shane knew he was the new wine master and was determined to prove it to Ilya.

As they made their way through the Grecian style hedges, Shane noticed that while crowded, it was very quiet. Fat Ass had been awful and fun and the insides of the tasting room were as loud and as boisterous as the neon shirt Ilya had bought. Here, everyone looked like they were taking wine…so seriously.

Bleh.

Carla sat the two of them at a reserved table outside and immediately, Shane wondered if they could sit inside as he could feel the full power of the Texas summer. Despite the shade and the fan blowing right at him, Shane was sweltering. But there was Ilya, perfectly calm in the Dolce & Gabbana polo that Shane had bought him for his birthday a few years ago. The curls in his hair had tightened from the heat and humidity and Ilya’s skin was perfectly golden after baking in the Texas sun for the last few days. And now, with how the afternoon light was catching Ilya…

Shane swallowed hard. Maybe sitting outside was fine if it kept his husband looking like a statue in the museum.

The waiter appeared and poured their first glass, another alberiño and another delighted hum from Ilya. Maybe Shane should start buying bottles of alberiño to keep stocked in their house—he loved listening to Ilya’s delighted hums.

Ilya made a grand show of swirling his glass for Shane and then taking an equally large smell. He then took the tiniest of sips and made a loud groan while slurping the wine across his tongue.

”Delicious! Give it a try and tell me your tasting notes, Hollander.” Ilya winked as he took another sip.

Shane brought the wine glass to his mouth, dispensing with the need to swirl it (why do you even need to do that in the first place, it’s stupid). The sip was very refreshing. Fruity. Like a white wine.

“Pear?” Shane looked at Ilya and Ilya back at him.

Ilya sighed and turned over the tasting notes and took another sip, but not before letting out a light chuckle. Shane reached out to grab the tasting note but Ilya used his height to keep it away from him. Bastard.

The waiter returned and it was now that Shane noticed how tight the man’s black shirt was pulled across his body, highlighting the work he put into his pecs. His biceps were practically bursting out of their sleeves as he reached across them to pour their second tasting.

“What are your thoughts on the alberiño? It’s sourced from 100% Texas grapes.” The man asked, looking at Shane, his own eyes travelling down Shane’s chest.

”Was good. Very refreshing. I think we’ll buy a bottle to take home.” Ilya said but the waiter didn’t turn and barely acknowledged Ilya’s comment.

“And you, sir?” The waiter pointedly asked Shane.

“Uhm,” Shane scratched the back of his head, a steady blush forming across his face and not just from the wine. “Pear? I tasted a lot of pear.”

”Interesting.” Said the man. “Most people say lemongrass and maybe guava, but pear is good, too. Similar to guava, right?” He winked and Shane melted. ”I’ll let you two finish this glass. Feel free to flag me down if you need anything else before then.”

Shane watched as the man walked away, his tight ass hugged by equally tight jeans, swaying his hips in just the right way.

“Subtle.” Ilya called out as he took a sip of his second glass, a Chardonnay.

“I—uh—what?” Shane sputtered.

“Is fine.” Ilya hummed into his glass. “He’s very cute. Maybe you can slip him your number and invite him back to our hotel in Austin.”

”What? No, Ilya! I’m sorry. No. It’s only you.”

”Mmm, but he’s cute. Very cute. And likes you. I don’t think he heard me asking for a bottle.”

”No. I’m not interested in a threesome. You know this.”

”But as a fantasy. Maybe you can slip him your number. We pretend tonight he came home with us, hm? That tight little black shirt riding up his skin.”

”Maybe…” Shane’s skin was thoroughly flushed and he hoped he could explain it away by the heat.

“Oh, come one, Shane. Think about how those big arms would feel on your skin. Letting me show you off while I fuck you deep and he sucks your dick.”

”No threesomes.”

”But as a fantasy is fun, yes?”

Shane cleared his throat and fingered at the collar of his own linen shirt. How did Ilya do this to him all the time.

“Anyway, he said I was right about about the pear, so take that.” Shane stuck out his tongue.

”Waiter was being nice and flirting. He said the tasting notes were lemongrass and guava.”

”He was not just being nice. I happen to be a wine master now, Rozanov.”

Ilya cocked his eyebrows at Shane flushed three shades darker before turning his attention to the one wine and took a sip of the Chardonnay. Trying to change the subject and tamper down his growing erection, “This tastes like butter.” Shane said as he polished off his glass.

“Wow, an American Chardonnay tastes like butter. What a shocking tasting note.” Ilya said dryly as he finished his glass.

Saving Shane (or maybe not), their waiter returned and poured them a rosé, which he claimed was his summer favorite. The waiter lingered while Shane took his first sip and then placed a gentle touch on Shane’s arm. The hair on his arm stood up as the waiter gazed at him.

“My husband and I will wave you over when we’re ready for our next glass.” Ilya said and the waiter quickly dropped his hand and walked away. “Hm, maybe not so good to use as fantasy tonight. Does not know what is mine.”

Passion burned deep in Shane. Yes, he was Ilya’s. No one else’s.

Also, this rosé tasted like red wine and white wine had a baby and merely tasted like wine.

“Flavor notes?” Ilya asked, trying to decipher the folds of concentration in Shane’s forehead.

“Wine.” Shane grimaced. Ilya laughed and clinked their glasses together.

The next two glasses didn’t go much better. One was red. The next was redder. Ilya pressed Shane on what kinds of red and Shane detailed the different shades, impressing Ilya with the number of different types of red he could name. Apparently though, none of those shades of red were appropriate flavor descriptions of the red wines they were drinking.

Like he would take Ilya’s word on this.

At the end, the two decided to be really bad and ordered a bottle of the alberiño to drink on the way back home—which Carla assured them was legal since they were in a short limo separated from the front. Wine drunk was fun.

When the waiter returned, he handed them the bottle of chilled wine and pushed Shane’s credit card and receipts tightly into his hand. “It was a pleasure serving you today. Come back and see us sometime.” The waiter didn’t even look at Ilya as he walked away to serve his other tables.

Ilya scoffed and took the wine from Shane’s hand and threaded their fingers together. They walked slowly back to the car, letting the last of the Texas afternoon soak in to them. Back in the car, Shane snuggled closely to Ilya as he and Carla chatted about the wines. Ilya was talking about a Sangiovese or something, but all Shane could think about was how wonderful his husband smelled.

Shane shifted to pull himself closer to Ilya when he heard the crinkle of the receipts in his pocket. Curious to see how much they overpaid for the bottle of wine Ilya was now trying to tuck into, Shane pulled out the receipts and immediately regretted not bringing his reading glasses with him.

“Hey,” Shane said quietly, his voice slurring. “How much did we overpay for that white wine?”

”This delicious alberiño, you mean?” Ilya took the receipt from Shane’s and gave a quick laugh and attempted to pocket it.

“What? How much did we pay for it? Please tell me it wasn’t too much.”

”No, was only $35. Expensive for the quality but worth it for the experience. Oh, and the waiter also left you his number.”

”What?!” Shane shot up and tried to snatch the receipt out of Ilya’s hand.

“Nah-uh. This is mine now. I can’t have you calling handsome Texas waiter while I share a hotel room with you!” Ilya gleefully kept the receipt out of Shane’s hands before finally giving him a chance to confirm that yes, the waiter did indeed write his number on the receipt.

“Are men always this bold in Texas?” Ilya chirped to Carla.

Carla merely shrugged her shoulders. “Depends on the size of his truck.”

Ilya and Shane looked at each other, not entirely sure if what Carla said was supposed to be a joke or not. Carla merely shook her head and mumbled ‘Canadians’ under her breath while she opened their bottle of wine and poured the two of them a glass.

Shane eagerly took a sip. Oh, now he could taste the guava! He wanted to let Ilya finally know he could taste it, but Ilya had wrapped his arm around around Shane and all Shane wanted to do was snuggle in and enjoy the silence and Ilya’s musky scent for the rest of the ride.

———

They arrived back in Austin just in time for dinner, but Shane was drunk and Ilya drunker. Carla gave them a hug goodbye and Ilya pressed a donkey keychain into her hand, which earned a laugh and another hug. She wished them well for the evening and her and her driver left them in the driveway to their hotel with both clinging to each other for balance.

As they both stumbled safely into the room, Ilya quickly picked up the phone to order room service and demanded the greasiest items they had on the menu. He then scurried off downstairs with the promise to bring back Gatorades, leaving Shane alone with a plastic bag filled with donkey puns and his thoughts.

Shane went over to his backpack and pulled out the binder, skimming through the full country tabs. All things considered, this binder had been a great idea and following it had led them to the best days Shane had experienced in years. He—they—needed to do this more often.

Thumbing through tho the next set of tabs for West Texas, Shane planned out their trip for the coming days. Tomorrow would be a long one—almost eight hours of driving to get to their hotel in Fort Davis but one long day of driving would make up for giving them an extra day there for Ilya to live his cowboy experience. Plus, Shane was excited to see the observatory out there and had booked them tickets for a star viewing experience plus a day tour. Everything was planned and perfect. Shane couldn’t wait.

“Shane!” Ilya barged in the door. “Downstairs had Gatorade and Carmelo bars!! I got 3 bars and I’m only sharing one. Sharing one. That does not mean you can have the full bar.”

Shane smiled as Ilya handed him a bottle of Gatorade and tugged him down for a deep kiss. There was no one he would rather share these perfect plans with.

Chapter End Notes

FYI, all of these are real wineries. Maybe plan your own road trip and have some wine drunk fun~

Chapter 7: Tab 7: Drive to West Texas

Chapter Summary

Between breakfast disasters, roadside kindness, and miles of empty Texas highway, Shane and Ilya discover that even the most carefully planned day can change in an instant.

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: Texas Sun by Khruangbin ft. Leon Bridges

New chapter so soon? Told you all I finally had time again.

Shane knew. He always knew. Ilya. Was. Pissed.

Shane had intended to be kind, to let them sleep in until 8:30AM before they got on to the road and made their 7 hour drive to Fort Davis. He really meant for them to sleep in for just a little bit for the first time on this vacation.

Except he forgot to remind them in their drunken state to put in ear plugs.

So at 6AM on the dot, the car alarm, or Shane and Ilya’s new mortal enemy—the grackle—starting squawking. Ilya shouted Russian profanity at the window while he threw their clothes into their backpacks. He was still stewing by the time he left the shower ten minutes later and told Shane they should hit the road and get McDonald’s on the way out of town.

Normally, Shane would say absolutely not to eating fast food in general, especially before 8AM, but Shane also knew nothing would soothe his husband’s heart more than a McGriddle. So Shane refused to grumble when the two pulled into McDonald’s and Ilya nearly pranced up to the order screen. Ilya quickly thumbed through the screen and ordered Shane an oatmeal and coffee and then went to order himself a McGriddle.

The machine read “Out of Stock”.

Ilya quirked his head and tried to order it again.

“Out of Stock”

Now Ilya’s breath picked up. Shane watched as his husband’s fingers lightly clenched and then unclenched before he walked up to the counter to flag down a worker.

“Uh, excuse me.” Ilya waved down a confused woman in the back. “I tried to order a McGriddle but it says ‘Out of Stock’. I think maybe the machine is broken.”

“No, no. The machine is fine. We didn’t receive our McGriddle bun shipments last night and are out of stock for now. We should have some tomorrow for breakfast. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Ilya’s shoulders tightened. His hands clenched and unclenched. Slowly, he turned and walked back to the order screen and ordered four hashbrowns and a McMuffin.

“Out of Stock”

”Fuck!” Ilya yelled and turned tail out the door. Shane sheepishly followed.

The next hour in the car was silent except for the occasional sniffle from Ilya and both of their grumbling stomachs. When they passed another McDonald’s, Shane tried to point it out, but Ilya kept driving. It wasn’t until they were on the outskirts of a town called Johnson City that Ilya suddenly jerked the car over and parked them next to several food trucks, each with a loud banner proclaiming “Tacos”.

Following Ilya’s lead, Shane got out of the car and went up to the window of the first truck. Ilya quickly ordered them three al pastor tacos each and a Mexican coke and the two sat in silence while they waited for their tacos to be ready.

“So…tacos for breakfast?” Shane twiddled his coke in his hand.

“Guy at concert the other night said we had to get breakfast tacos. He recommended al pastor. I don’t know. I’m hungry.”

An uncomfortable silence sat between them as each took small sips of their cokes and waited on tacos. When the tacos were ready, Ilya grabbed them and a few varieties of salsa and distributed the food between them. Shane opened the first taco, the smell of juicy pork almost overwhelming him, and attempted to put the least spicy of the salsas on his taco. He gave a cough or two because holy shit, that light green salsa didn’t fuck around. Shane was definitely wrong about which salsa was the least spicy.

Ilya laughed at Shane’s discomfort and grabbed the light green salsa from him and gave a solid dollop on his tacos. After taking a giant bite, Ilya started to cough and gag, his face turning red from the spice.

“Oh, Mr. Spice Master handling the spice. Look at you.” Shane waved his greasy hands in front of Ilya’s face who proceeded to laugh and cough harder.

The two eventually finished their tacos and cokes and Shane sincerely regretted forgetting to pack wet wipes. As if reading his mind, Ilya took them immediately to the gas station and grabbed wipes and other road provisions including a large gallon of water.

Settled back in the car with a cup of cheap gas station coffee in his hand, Ilya turned to Shane before he started the car. “I am really sorry I lost my temper earlier. I was tired from stupid car alarm bird and was hungover and then no McGriddle. It is not an excuse. I am sorry.”

”Thank you for apologizing, Ilya. I accept it. But in the future, please talk to me before you get so tightly wound.” Shane reached out his hand and gently placed it across Ilya’s.

Ilya merely nodded his head and started them back on the road. Shane took the time as the passenger to pull out the binder and look through the plan for this evening and the next day. Since they left early, if all went well, they would get to Fort Davis by the late afternoon which would mean they’d have time for dinner at one of the good restaurants Shane had looked up in advance. It would also give them time to walk around the small town, which Shane was equally excited for.

“Do you really have to look at the fucking thing right now?” Ilya’s voice was as tense as his hands on the wheel.

Shane snapped his head over to Ilya. What was his problem this morning?

“I was just looking at our options of where we could eat this evening since we’ll be getting in to town earlier than expected.” Shane tried to keep his voice low and quiet.

“We can just use Google or something when we get there. Shane, I am begging you, please put that up.”

”What if we don’t have service? We’ll be pretty far out and all of the guides say that cell service is spotty out there.”

”Ok. How big is the town? I think with population of around 2,000, the town is not so big. We can just, walk or something. Ask people. Please put that binder away.” Ilya’s hand tensed on the wheel.

“What is wrong with the binder? I’m just looking at it.”

”Your nose is always in that binder. I just—I miss you, that’s all. This landscape is boring. Entertain me.”

Shane harrumphed and put the binder in the back of the car before he went to turn the nob on the radio. Country music. Next station. Country music. Next station. Country music.

Evan Dykstra would be in heaven.

After thumbing through several more country stations, Shane finally settled on one playing 80s rock music. He could tell he selected a winner as he watched Ilya’s hands slowly unclench from the wheel and begin tapping his fingers to the guitar riffs.

The two sat in a comfortable silence as the landscape changed. First, the short trees of Austin, then the shrubby trees of the hill country, then just green and flat. Now it was turning brown and flat.

So fucking flat. Brown. More brown.

“Cow.” Ilya called out as Shane was lost in thoughts of brown. “Black cow. Brown cow. Oh, another black cow.”

”That cow is dark brown, not black.”

”Mmm, looked black to me. Do you think black cows get hotter than brown cows?”

”Probably.”

”Yes, is what I was thinking, too.”

Eventually they made their way to a town called Junction. It was as brown as the last 40 minutes of their drive and Shane wasn’t entirely sure why this town would be a “Junction”. This was where the 80s music had cut off on the radio and the only options were country and lively accordion music with Spanish lyrics. Ilya opted for Spanish saying he was fluent in the language with the amount of Bad Bunny that he had listened to, but he could never answer Shane when he would ask him what ‘Qué’ or ‘Rojo’ meant.

Shane attempted to keep them entertained by pointing out and counting the wind turbines they occasionally passed, but it did little to temper the boredom to drive. After another 30 minutes, Ilya demanded a break from driving—apparently flat and brown were not scenic enough to keep him awake and lively through his hangover.

They pulled over in a small town called Sonora and did a few quick stretches at the gas station along the highway before Ilya ran inside, “Gotta take a shit,” was all he managed to get out before he ran inside and disappeared for the next 20 minutes. Shane sighed and contemplated how much of his life was dictated by the frequency and length of his husband’s bowel movements.

Deciding to make the best of their unintended pit stop, Shane went inside to use the restroom himself where he heard Ilya humming to himself behind the closed stall door. Shane rolled his eyes and went back outside to examine the extensive and bleak brown flatness that surrounded them. It was nothing like the romantic tumbleweed pictures that had floated through his head as he planned this trip. For one, he had expected a lot more green. And maybe a hill or two.

Sonora was bland. Unreasonably so. Shane felt like he could see the entire town just standing at the gas station on the edge of the highway. He thought of what life must be like growing up in a place like this. Maybe trees would inspire awe in the children when they saw one for the first time. Maybe trees would scare them.

Across the street, he saw a steakhouse, and checking the time, it made sense for them to eat an early and fast breakfast before starting the remaining three and a half hours of their drive. Ilya eventually made his way out of the restroom and also held a 40oz cup filled with what Shane hoped was a Diet Coke. But he also knew Ilya.

“I thought we could grab lunch before we got back on the road.” Shane said as Ilya made his way to the passenger door.

“But Hollander, I am living the American experience with giant oversized fountain drink. Let me live this moment.”

”Please tell me that’s Diet or Coke Zero in there.”

”…Yes.”

Shane rolled his eyes and motioned for Ilya to follow him to the restaurant.

———

For the first time that day, Shane felt like he was actually in Texas. The restaurant was small and quaint, country music played quietly in the background, and everyone in there seemed like they had lived on a steady diet of fried food and Coke for their entire lives. It was perfectly charming and Shane was instantly in love.

Their waitress was a younger plump woman, her thin hair tied back in a haphazard bun. As she distributed the menus, she asked, “What brings you boys out here?”

”Vacation.”

”Road trip.” Shane winced as both he and Ilya spoke at the same time.

“Oooooh a boys’ trip. How fun!” The woman, Teresa, her name tag read, said as she pulled out her notebook to take their drink orders.

“Yes, boys trip.” Ilya thumbed at his nose and glanced up at Shane, his smile gentle and warm.

“Y’all stopping here to see the caves? Natural wonder of the world.” Teresa asked, catching the two staring at each other.

“Caves?” Ilya asked as he looked up from Shane.

“Oh yeah. They’re beautiful. Crystal caverns more like. You should check and see if they have a reservation for today. What would y’all like to drink?”

After each ordering a Diet Coke, Ilya poked at the menu, thinking hard on which of the 5 items to get. “I think…” He said after a few minutes of intense concentration. “I think I will get the chicken fried steak. It says right here that it is one of the best in Texas. I must try it.”

Shane laughed and decided to order the salad. Maybe he would be lucky and there would be a dressing other than ranch. Teresa came back to take their orders and when it arrived, Ilya was practically salivating at the large flattened and fried steak smothered in gravy placed in front of him. He quickly cut himself a bite and then moaned in ecstasy.

“Moy lyubimyy, this is truly delicious. Please try.” Ilya thrust a cut of the steak into Shane’s face and he begrudgingly accepted it.

Ilya was right. It was absolutely delicious and now Shane had to pick at his salad—a decent salad, but not a very sad salad compared to fried steak covered in perfectly made white gravy. Shane decided not to dwell on his choice of food as he knew Ilya would only chirp at him for it, so in silence, he made his way through the salad all while watching Ilya moan with pleasure with each bite.

By the time Shane finished picking at his salad, Ilya was thumbing his finger across the plate, trying to get every morsel of the gravy off of the plate.

“Teresa, please tell the chef that that really was the best chicken fried steak in Texas.” Ilya said as Teresa put the separate checks on their table.

“I’m sure Roy will be happy to hear some out of towners loved it. Y’all gonna try to go to the caves? If you leave now, you’ll make it in time for the noon tour. I bet they can squeeze you in without a reservation. It’s been a slow summer this year.”

Ilya glanced at Shane hopefully and he thumbed at his credit card before putting it with his check. “No caves this time I think. We have to make it to Fort Davis before dinner.”

Shane tried not to notice Ilya’s small frown before he too handed Teresa his check. “Yes, as my friend says. No time for small pit stops. We have a schedule to keep—he made a binder.”

Ilya winked at Shane but he wasn’t sure if that was for him or Teresa or Ilya himself. Maybe no one at all.

———

“Windmill.” Ilya called out. “Windmill. Windmill. Windmill.”

”Wind turbine, Ilya. They’re wind turbines, not mills. Mills are for food and water. A wind turbine is for electricity.”

“Wind turbine.” Ilya huffed as they passed their tenth mile straight of giant wind turbines. “Oh, another turbine. Will the cows come back? At least they had different colors.”

“You’re a great conversationalist.”

”Thank you. I have gotten this compliment many times in my life.”

Ilya sighed loudly and pushed his head back in the seat. The car was deadly silent. The lively Spanish music had faded out 20 miles past Sonora and neither of them were keen on listening to country, so near deadly silence and boredom had filled the car for the last hour.

When the radio had first gone out, Ilya had attempted to play road games. First he suggested billboards, but there were no billboards, only random long stretches of wind turbines. Then Ilya suggested a license plate game, but Shane had stupidly left his prescription sunglasses back in Ottawa and squinting at license plates didn’t sound fun.

The real silence began between the fourth or fifth stretch of turbines and Ilya realized he had no cell service. Shane attempted to gossip about hockey and some of the going ons he had heard about in the short amount of time that had passed on that offseason. Ilya firmly rejected the topic. “No hockey talk on our hockey retirement trip.”

So silence it was.

Ilya did keep reaching over and touching Shane’s leg, murmuring Russian sweet nothings and telling him about the plans he had hidden at the bottom of his backpack that he was going to bring out when they reached their rental home in Fort Davis. Suddenly, this long car ride seemed even longer and Shane was wondering how the could speed up the next 2 hours of this trip.

BANG.

Shane felt the car violently lurch and swerve and he quickly tried to regain control, turning into the swerve. He went to press the brake when Ilya called out, “No don’t brake! Is tire. Get to the side of the road!”

Easier said than done when you’re going 80mph. Shane began to ease the car towards the shoulder, where they came to a shuddering stop. Shane’s fingers were white on the wheel, his breath coming out raggedly. He barely noticed that Ilya’s hand was holding on to his thigh with a death grip.

“Good job, Shane. I mean it.” Ilya said after they caught their breath for a few moments.

Shane nodded and swallowed hard before hitting his head against the headrest. “Holy fuck.” He uttered, running his fingers through his hair, feeling the sweat that was now quickly beading along his scalp.

“Holy fuck, yes. But it is just tire. You got us to the shoulder safely. Pop the trunk and I’ll get the spare out. Should not take too long and we can get the tired changed in Fort Stockton. The sign a few miles back said that it wasn’t far. A spare tire can handle that if we go slow.”

Trying to breathe through his nose, Shane popped the trunk and Ilya got out to change the tire.

“FUCK!” Ilya screamed from the back of the car. He came up to the passenger side and looked at Shane through the window. With an eerie calmness, Ilya asked, “Do you want the bad news or the worse news?”

Shane sighed and clenched his hands in his hair tightly. “Bad then worse please.”

“Bad news, definitely a flat tire. It is in shreds all across the road and rim looks like it is fucked. Worse news is there is not a spare tire.”

”Fuuuuuuuuck!” Shane put his hands on the steering wheel and began to bang his head against it.

“Do you want worser news?”

“Fuck no.” Shane grumbled.

“Too bad. I have no cell service so neither do you. We will need to hitch a ride or something. Oh, but there is good news!”

”There is no good news.”

”Yes, there is. The rental company left the tire iron, but no car jack. So if you want to take the tire iron to the car, I will absolutely say we hit a deer.”

Oh my god, this man. Shane shuddered with laughter—it was the only thing keeping him from crying. Slowly and carefully, Shane extracted himself from the car and went to the side of the road. Ilya was right, the rear passenger tire was blown and the rim looked thoroughly fucked. Even if they had managed to get a spare on it, there’s no way they’d be able to replace the tire. The rental company would need to send them another car.

Fuuuuuuuck.

They were in the middle of nowhere Texas. Where the fuck were they going to get a replacement car?

Shane groaned and squatted in the rocks away from the road. They were so fucking fucked. Everything had been going so well. Of course this was their luck—Ilya had used it all in Lake Charles.

As Shane continued to spiral on their predicament, he noticed an older truck pulling over in front of them. Shane stood and Ilya stood beside him, placing a protective arm in front of him.

A young woman stepped out and called out to them, “Y’all ok?”

“Yes,” Ilya called out, looking at Shane. “Tire blew but rental has no spare tire. Do you have cell service so we can call a tow truck?”

The woman wandered over and checked out their car before signaling for the man driving the truck to come over. The two spent a while debating if they could simply tow the car themselves to Fort Stockton but realized after further debating that it was useless since the back of the car was missing a tire. Finally, the two settled the dispute together by telling Shane and Ilya they were sorry they couldn’t save them money towing their rental themselves, but they would be happy to call a tow truck and wait with them.

As the tow truck was called, Shane and Ilya grabbed their backpacks from the car and sat on the bed of the couple’s truck. Their names were Paul and Cindy and they passed the hot hour talking about Paul being a rancher and Cindy had recently moved to the area to homestead with him. When the tow truck arrived, the driver and Paul had a lengthy talk and he walked over to Shane and Ilya and gleefully let them know the driver was his friend from high school who owed him a big favor and he would tow them to town for the cost of gas, which would be less than $30.

Shane was struck by them all as Cindy gave Shane a big hug goodbye and told them to visit their ranch if they were ever on vacation this way again. Paul and Ilya shook hands excitedly, and it seemed the same offer was made there.

The tow truck driver on the way to Fort Stockton regaled them with stories of he and Paul riding pumpjacks in high school and how it almost messed up Paul’s throwing arm, not that he ever had a chance to play as QB mind you. He asked them what the two did for a job and when Ilya said hockey, the man laughed and said he didn’t know a damn thing about it, but good for them for making it to the pros. Shane was smiling and laughing from the stories by the time their driver dropped them off at the auto shop. He realized, with deep regret, that he never got the driver’s name. Being so lost in laughter, he had even forgotten to say thank you.

Ilya made quick work of calling the rental company as they waited in the lobby of the autoshop. The really good news was that they had purchased the good insurance on Shane’s insistence and a new car would be there by 10AM the next day. It meant burning a night in Fort Davis to spend it in this flat brown hellscape, but they were alive, they wouldn’t be out much money, and they could only hope that the only motel with a room available didn’t have bed bugs.

Shane was so exhausted by the time they got to the dingy room, that he couldn’t even think. Ilya insisted on getting dinner, but all Shane could do was groan and look at the peeling wallpaper. Shooing his husband away, Shane curled up on the creaky bed and tried to find something to watch on the cheap TV.

He couldn’t help it, but Shane’s mind wandered to all the hotels they had stayed in over the years. He missed the uniform familiarity of those Marriotts, unchanging from city to city other than questionable choices in carpet. This bed was a far cry from the mid-tier luxury he was used to.

After properly mourning his evening, Shane finally rose from the bed and gave a hearty stretch. He texted Ilya to bring him a burger, fries, and a cold can of beer and Ilya returned 20 minutes later with a huge bag of McDonald’s and a six pack of beer. They finished their burgers, and Shane delightedly helped Ilya with the order of McNuggets and extra large fries. By the time they finished their second beer, Shane was feeling as exhausted as he did after losing a game.

Sleep came surprisingly easy for both of them, and when their alarm went off at 8AM the next day, Shane woke up feeling shockingly refreshed. Most surprising was the bad mattress had done no damage to his back which allowed Ilya to snake down his body and give him an achingly slow blow job.

Shane was practically skipping by the time their replacement car was delivered to the hotel at just past 9. He became happier still when the flat brown landscape slowly morphed into rugged hills speckled with green. Shane even let Ilya drag him to a natural spring pool before they reached Fort Davis. The two spent their early morning splashing each other in the waters of Balmorhea and taking turns on the high dive performing different tricks.

The dip in the cool water lifted Ilya’s spirits too, and Shane kept catching his husband keeping himself from reaching out and touching Shane’s side, his back, his hands. But nothing could stop his eyes, those deep blue eyes smoldering—just for him.

When they finally made their way to their rental home, Ilya gave up pretenses of resisting touching him. The home was tucked away from the main road, it had a few high trees and thick hedges blocking the view from the homes around them. Ilya captured Shane in a deep kiss as he tried to unlock the door and then took him thoroughly the moment they made it inside.

It was only after his second orgasm that day that Shane began to feel distinctly 39. The orgasm had been wanted but it was painful and his body was wrung out from Ilya’s constant ministrations on this trip.

Coming to from his orgasm, Shane stood and made his way to his back pack, reaching in to pull out the wet wipes. He offered a few to Ilya before he went back to his bag, his fingers tingling and itching to look at the binder, to see what the afternoon had in store for them before they would go to the Star Party at the observatory that evening.

“I can hear you thinking about that binder.” Ilya called out as he wiped himself down. “Go ahead, sweetheart. You’ve been keeping me company all day.”

Ilya sauntered over and placed a wet kiss on Shane’s cheek. Smiling and touching his cheek, Shane returned to the backpack to pull out the binder. He moved his shirts around and then his pants. His socks and a few sex toys were at the bottom.

Shane looked through the backpack again. The binder wasn’t there. Shane ran over to Ilya’s backpack and tore it apart. Shirts, pants, socks. What the fuck is that massive purple dildo doing at bottom of this bag? Did Ilya actually fly with that thing in there? Shane shook his hand and kept tearing apart Ilya’s bag. The binder was not there.

Quickly, Shane shoved his shoes on and grabbed the car keys. He searched the rental high and low—trunk, behind and under the seats, the glove compartment. The binder wasn’t there.

”Moya lyubov,” Ilya called out from the doorway. “What is wrong?”

Shane couldn’t breathe. The binder was gone.

Chapter End Notes

Dun dun DUUUUUUN!!! Leave kudos or comments if you enjoyed~

Chapter 8: Tab 8: Star Party

Chapter Summary

Some things can't be replaced. Others can only be rebuilt. As the road to Portland suddenly feels much longer, Shane and Ilya are forced to confront the one thing no itinerary could ever prepare them for.

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: Going Gets Tough by The Growlers

Gasp, it came out again so soon?!

Shane couldn’t breathe. There was a large lump in his throat as he tore through the new rental car again. Where was the binder?

Moving quickly, he shoved past Ilya still standing in the doorway and went through both of the backpacks again. Clothes were everywhere. Toiletries were everywhere. A giant fucking purple dildo was thrown aside, now laying by itself menacingly.

The binder wasn’t there.

Shane tried to catch his breath. Where could it be? When did he last have it?

Car. Rental car. He had pulled it out after breakfast and then Ilya snipped at him for it so he put it in the back. Now did he put it in his backpack or on the backseat? Dread filled him. He had put it on the back seat. It must have slipped off the seat when the tire blew and he just didn’t grab it.

That meant the binder was in the car which was in Fort Stockton, which wasn’t even a two hour drive. It was a closer drive than Ottawa was to Montreal and he had made that drive countless times. He could do it again today. It’s not like he had been driving non-stop for the last day and a half.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Shane snatched the car keys off of the coffee table and made his way out to the rental again. He was going to Fort Stockton.

“Shane!” Ilya called out, chasing after him. “Will you tell me what is going on? What is wrong?”

Shane didn’t have time to think. He just needed to drive. He needed to get that binder.

“Shane!” Ilya grabbed his arm with some force as Shane tried to open the car door. “Look at me, Shane! What is wrong?”

Shane tried to take a few steadying breaths but shook his head and tried to shake Ilya’s hand off of him. No such luck. His husband was holding on to him with a death grip.

“Sweetheart, I need you to look at me and breathe. Can you do that?” Ilya said calmly as he took another step towards Shane, his grip still tight on his arm.

One breath. Two.

Shane looked up at Ilya, tears welling in his eyes. “I can’t find the binder.”

”Oh.” Ilya loosened his grip on Shane’s arm. “Shane, is ok.”

Shane violently shook his head as Ilya tried to pull him into a tight hug. “No, stop! Let go! I need to go back to the autoshop in Fort Stockton. Maybe they still have the car.”

”We are not driving back to Fort Stockton to go and get the binder. We don’t even know if the car is still there. Maybe let’s go inside and call the repair shop, yes?”

Ilya wrapped his arm gently around Shane’s shoulder and brought him inside. Sitting him on the couch, Ilya placed a gentle kiss on Shane’s cheek. “There is tea in the kitchen. I will make us two glasses and you find the repair shop. When I come back with tea, we call them together, ok?”

Shane nodded, and Ilya left him alone with his thoughts and his phone. Listening to Ilya clank around in the kitchen, Shane opened up his phone and began to search for the auto shop in Fort Stockton. When he found it, Shane looked up to the ceiling. He knew there was no God, but for a short moment he wanted to pray. Please let the binder be there.

It was everything.

Ilya sauntered back in a few minutes later with two mugs of tea and placed one in Shane’s hand. Shane inhaled. Chamomile. He smiled. Ilya hated chamomile. Blowing on the tea, Shane took a small sip letting the liquid fall down his throat leaving a gentle burn.

The two sat for a few minutes, each quietly taking sips of their tea as Ilya gently rubbed his hand up and down Shane’s thigh. Every time Shane’s leg would bounce, there was Ilya’s hand, calloused from decades of hockey but so smooth and warm as he moved his hand with a gentle ease.

When Shane finished his tea, Ilya took the mug from him and went back to the kitchen. Only upen returning did Ilya turn to Shane and stare him in the eyes—those perfect, kind, soft eyes.

“Did you find the the auto shop?” Ilya asked, practically a whisper.

Shane nodded and handed his phone to Ilya. He wasn’t sure he would be able to talk to the shop without crying. Ilya took the phone and hit dial. His mind raced as he listened to Ilya’s ‘Mhms’ and ‘Uh-huhs’. His ‘Nos’ then a smattering of ‘Yeses’. Finally a handful of ‘Thank yous’ and Ilya hung up the phone.

Ilya placed Shane’s phone down on the table and looked at him. “Shane. I love you very much. I am very proud of everything you have done to plan this trip. I have had a great time. But—“

”But what?” Shane swallowed. He could tell Ilya didn’t want to say what he was about to say. “But what, Ilya?”

”But the car has already been towed away from the repair shop by the rental company. They do not know where it was taken. I am sorry Shane, if the binder was in the car, it is gone now.”

Shane moaned loud and slow. God he was so stupid. Why did he put the binder on the back seat and not back into his backpack? How could he have walked away from that car without it? That binder had everything.

“Shane, Shane, Shane.” Ilya pulled him into a deep hug while Shane continued to moan and try not to cry. “Sweetheart, hey. Is ok. Look at me.”

Ilya tried to pull Shane’s face towards him, but Shane yanked his chin down. He couldn’t bear to look at Ilya right now. The shame was overwhelming.

“Maybe it is in the backpacks. You stay here and I will check.”

As if Shane could move anyway. He watched as Ilya sifted quietly and gently through the clothes, unfolding and then folding each item and placing them to the side. Backpacks empty, giant dildo aside, Ilya knew then that the binder truly was gone.

Shane watched as Ilya sat with his back to him, kneeling in front of their belongings, neatly folded and surrounding the tall Russian. He was silent for some time, his shoulders slumped.

“Was everything in the binder?” Ilya asked quietly as he ran through his own empty backpack once more.

What could Shane say? He had no words. He was so stupid.

“Yes.” Shane finally managed to eke out.

Neither spoke. Even Ilya, who been a helium balloon this entire trip, deflated before him. There was no more smile, no glow peaking out from his skin.

“Even the reference letters? The one Hayden and Jackie wrote? Wyatt and Lisa? Brandon Weibe?” Ilya’s voice was quivering.

“They were all in the binder. In the back.” Shane began to pick at the skin of his thumb, trying to find something, anything, to keep the tears from spilling out. “Notarized and everything.”

Shane watched as Ilya inhaled deeply, controlling his breath in five and seven second increments. The years of yoga that Shane had forced Ilya to do were finally paying off as he watched Ilya’s shoulders begin to relax and come out of their slump. Shane wished he had Ilya’s resilience.

Ilya stood and brushed off his pants. Turning to Shane, he quietly wiped his eyes and sat next to him. After a moment, Ilya took Shane’s hand and put it in his lap. He looked Shane in the face.

“Maybe we call the agency? See if they will take digital copies? I scanned everything before we left and uploaded them to the drive.” Ilya said, an uneasy calmness in his voice.

“The surrogacy agency was very clear that everything had to be the orignals.”

That was it. Shane couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They came steady and hard and all he had left to hold was Ilya’s hand. Ilya leaned over Shane and pulled him into a deep hug, and Shane nestled into him and sobbed, his body wracking as he gasped for air as each new tear came out.

Ilya let him go for some time, merely holding him and occasionally rubbing his back. Shane wasn’t sure how long he had been crying, but by the time he was done, the sun that had been shining brightly through the windows when he had come in from the car was now beginning to dim.

“I’m so sorry, Ilya.” Shane whimpered out. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Shane, it is ok. Look at me.”

Shane couldn’t. His eyes were puffy with tears and he couldn’t bear to stare his husband in the face. The shame that had wet his cheeks would be there, all for him to see.

“I said,” Ilya grabbed Shane by the hinge of his jaw, his fingers rough and loving. “Look at me.”

Slowly, Shane brought his gaze to meet Ilya’s eyes. Ilya smiled. “There you are.” He said as he pulled Shane into a tight hug.

Shane melted.

“This is what we will do. It is not yet 5PM in Portland. We will call the agency. We will tell them about the accident and how we lost the original copies of the documents. If they don’t answer, we will leave it for them in a voicemail. If they say no copies, only originals, then we will call all of our friends and have them write a reference letter again, saying amazing glowing things about the incredible and amazing fathers we will be. And these friends, who love us like their family, will write these letters again for us, and because they love us so much, they will get them notarized. Then they will mail them to our hotel in Portland and they will be waiting for us when we arrive. And because we are good friends, we will pay all of them back for the notarizing and mailing, showing just how responsible and amazing we are. Good plan, yes?”

“Responsible? Showing our friends how responsible we are?” Shane was incredulous. “Ilya, we lost the thing that had ALL of our paperwork for the surrogacy agency. How can you talk about us being responsible?”

”Because you are the most responsible person that I know. You are the reason that I am alive, Shane.” Ilya’s voice suddenly quiet. “You take responsibility and make sure I eat salad with every meal. You take responsibility when I want to skip the last set of squats and then remind me of the game we are supposed to play. You take responsibility when I go dark—when I—when I can’t get out of beds some days. You take responsibility when I won’t take my meds but need to.

“Shane, you take on so much for me. For us. And because of that, I am more responsible, too. I even fold my underwear now.” Ilya rubbed Shane’s arm.

“Christ, Ilya. That doesn’t say responsible. That says you’re an adult who refused to fold his clothes for years and is so stubborn sometimes that he won’t take his depression medication. How the fuck does that say responsibility to you?”

Suddenly, Ilya’s arms were gone. That safe wrap was now missing and Shane’s body ached with coldness. Shane searched for Ilya’s eyes but he had turned away, his loose curls calling for Shane to run his fingers through them.

“You are a very responsible person. With me alone? Maybe not so much. But with you? Shane…” Ilya turned back and held Shane’s gaze.

“Could you stop putting everything on me for once in your life? For fuck’s sale, why is it always me? Why does it always have to be me? I do everything! Always Shane.

“Be the perfect Canadian. Be the perfect Asian-Candian. Be the perfect gay Asian-Canadian. You are responsible for that this bisexual asshole hockey player and every stupid fucking thing that comes out his mouth. You’re responsible for being the perfect role model. Responsible for making sure your fucking husband is not make an ass of himself 24/7! Fuck, Ilya!”

“Ok.” Ilya said quietly and turned away. “I think—I think I will go get dinner at the burger shop down the road. The one with the milkshakes.”

”Wow, what a responsible meal choice, Ilya.”

Ilya exhaled slowly. “I did not say I would have a milkshake. But that is where I will be to eat. If you decide to come have dinner with me, walk over there. If you don’t want dinner, fine. I will eat alone and then come back and then we will go to the star viewing and look through the big telescopes because we paid extra for those tickets. And it would be irresponsible to waste that money.”

Without looking at Shane, Ilya stood, put on his shoes, and walked out the door.

———

Ilya had been gone for over 30 minutes and Shane hadn’t moved an inch from his spot on the couch. How could he? God he was so fucking stupid. All he had to do was put that stupid binder in his stupid backpack.

‘Stop calling the binder stupid. It is not stupid,’ He could hear Ilya saying to him.

That fucking thing had everything. Not just the reference letters or the documents from their lawyers, the pictures of their homes, their financials—it was their blueprint for their last vacation together as just a couple. Their last big adventure. A big hoorah before parenthood would tie them down.

Shane had spent eight months meticulously planning this trip. Every idea and thought, every whim Shane predicted they might have was in that binder. Perfectly laid out.

And now it was gone.

There was nothing Shane could say, nothing he could think that would make this better. Sure, maybe Shane had also put all of their reservations and plans in a detailed and well organized spreadsheet that he could access on his phone, but that wasn’t paper. Shane couldn’t run the pages beneath his fingers, couldn’t feel the sharp plastic of the tabs as he turned each page showing where their adventure would take them today.

Shane sighed and leaned back on to the couch. The binder was such a simple thing to keep track of, yet now it was gone. Just gone. What a responsible adult he was.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shane stood. His stomach was growling and he could no longer ignore it. He threw on his shoes and walked to the burger shop. Hopefully Ilya would still be there.

And maybe it was a surprise to Shane after he walked down the dusty road to find Ilya sitting at the milkshake bar. Maybe it wasn’t. But there was his husband, smiling broadly and chatting with the teenager who worked the counter with a near empty plate of salad in front of him.

Shane quietly cleared his throat and Ilya whipped his head around, looking both shocked and now that Shane was now standing in front of him. Ilya’s smile turned to a much wider and crooked grin.

“Ah, this is my friend I was telling you about.” Ilya said to the teenager who merely giggled as Shane took the barstool next to his husband.

’Friend.’ That is what they were here in west Texas. Twenty years together. Husband in Canada. Friend in Texas.

“Shane, what do you want? I was craving a salad and I have to say it is very good here. I would have offered you some of mine but…” Ilya motioned to his plate that only held a few dressing soaked leaves on it.

“Yeah,” Shane mumbled. “A salad sounds good. Could I have it with grilled chicken?”

The teenager nodded and scurried off, leaving Ilya and Shane sitting at the near empty milkshake bar.

“Bad news.” Ilya said as he stabbed at one of the remaining leaves on his plate. “No beer here, only milkshakes and Coke. You know, I don’t think I have seen Pepsi this entire time in Texas. I think that is one thing Texans get right.”

Shane looked at the brown remnants of Ilya’s soda and merely sighed. How could his husband even think about soda right now?

“Shane,” Ilya placed a gentle hand on Shane’s back and he flinched. Did friends put hands on each other’s backs here? Ilya seemed to get the message and moved his hand away. “Did you know that this town almost burned down once?”

”What?”

“Yeah. Waitress said it was just before she was born. All the mountains around here were on fire. There is a museum next door with all the pictures if you want to do that tomorrow after morning horseback ride.” Ilya thumbed at his nose and looked back at his empty plate.

“That—that sounds nice. Yeah, let’s do that.” Shane said as their waitress returned with his salad.

“You know what also sounds nice?”

”Hm?” Shane forked at the chicken. It was a little rubbery.

“A milkshake.”

Shane laughed and put his fork down. He looked at his husband. His beautiful, stunning, strong, kind husband. Nine years of marriage. Twenty together. Shane’s heart fluttered.

“Only if it’s chocolate and I get to eat the cherry.” Shane flicked Ilya on the shoulder and caught his gaze. God, Ilya’s crooked grin would be the death of him one day.

———

“Are you sure this is the right road?” Shane asked, squinting in the dark.

“Da, Hollander. Is the right road. There is only one up to the observatory and we are on it.”

Shane folded his arms and leaned back in the seat. He didn’t trust they were on the right road. Seemed too straight for them to be going up a mountain. Maybe he should have offered to drive, but even with his glasses, driving at nighttime had become a difficult task for him.

Slowly, the straight road morphed into a winding trail gradually rising. Ok, maybe they were on the right road. It would have helped if Ilya had at least put on the GPS, but Ilya scoffed at the notion. According to the Russian, he never ever ever got lost. Bringing up how he got lost in Seattle a few years back and then Japan, oh, and then that late night they spent in Prague one year. Ilya would hear none of it and insisted that following a single lane road up a mountain did not require a computer talking to him.

By the time they made it to the expansive parking lot of McDonald Observatory, the air outside was already chilled and Shane was regretting not bringing a jacket. The online guides had warned that the desert air got cold at night, but Shane was Canadian—what was a little cool air. Apparently really fucking cool air. Shane was shivering by the time they got into the visitor center to show their tickets.

The portly woman at the ticket desk reminded them that they were a bit early for the star viewing where one of the astronomers there would walk through the constellations in the outdoor amphitheater. She encouraged them to walk through the small museum that was inside the visitors center and maybe a cup of coffee to help them stay up late and get all that their tickets had to offer.

Ilya was quick to scurry off the museum but Shane found it difficult to follow him for the first time that trip. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with him that evening, but right now, his hopeless optimism was depressing Shane. So Shane did the next best thing which was to look around the gift shop and buy them each a glow in the dark sweater with the outline of a longhorn made with stars. He made sure to get a sweater for his parents, too, and then couldn’t help himself buying little toys and trinkets for all of their friends kids back home—hopefully they would want a piece of Texas.

Eventually, Ilya caught up with him in the shop, Shane’s arms full with two big bags of souveniers. Shane laughed as Ilya eyed him wearily.

“There’s a post office in the town square. I’ll mail everything to Canada tomorrow or before we leave on Friday.” Shane grumbled as Ilya stifled a laugh.

Returning from the car with the sweaters in hand, Shane met Ilya at the coffee shop where he had managed to talk the barista into concocting some type of coffee drink that looked to be half sugar, half cream and no coffee. But Ilya was happy with the results and the two walked as closely as they could while still being aware of where they were. Maybe the dark of the amphitheater would allow them to hold hands.

Hopefully.

When the presentation began, both Shane and Ilya knew they were in for a slog. The astronomer that was presenting was monotone and completely unenthusiastic as he waved his high-powered flashlight from constellation to constellation. Shane learned nothing particularly new since his father David was like to pretend he was an amateur astronomer, but Ilya kept his eyes forward attempting to listen to the astronomer all while stifling yawn after yawn. And inching his fingers closer and closer to Shane’s until they were clasped together.

What Shane didn’t expect was for the crowd to practically leap up from their seats and almost run to the telescopes. By the time the two had sauntered over to the larger telescopes, the lines were unfathomably long, so the two decided to check out some of the smaller telescopes that none of the rest of the audience seemed interested in.

One astronomer with a five inch lens showed them a clear view of Jupiter, which seemed to delight Ilya far more than Shane. Another larger freestanding telescope was pointed to a small star cluster near the North Star. It turned into a truly fascinating tour with each astronomer at the smaller telescopes telling them stories of the cluster or star or planet it was pointed at. It honestly seemed far more fun than standing in line at one of the larger telescopes where they watched each guest quickly look at the rings of Saturn before being ushered away with no story and little fanfare.

Ilya was caught up talking to the astronomer when Shane walked over to a woman with one of the larger freestanding telescopes, not one other person near her.

“Want to see a Double Cluster?” The woman asked as Shane approached her.

“Yeah, I’d love to.” Shane bent over to look through the telescope.

“On the right, you’ll see NGC 869 and on the left, you’ll see NGC 884. These two clusters lie in the Perseus constellation. They’re one of my favorites and even though you’re looking through it with a ten inch lense, you can actually see these clusters on a clear moonless night through binoculars in almost every part of Texas.”

Shane stared at the clusters at the clusters for a while and asked the woman, who was called Sandra, several more questions about Perseus and the star clusters. He found it odd that he really didn’t care about her answers, but more of her unbridled ethusiasm and she talked about the number of stars in each cluster, how far apart they were, when they were first discovered. Shane loved the way she spoke.

“My love, the line for Saturn isn’t long now if you want to go and look at that.” Ilya said in Russian as he approached Shane.

“Yeah, let’s do that. Want to look at these clusters first? Sandra here was telling me all about them.” Shane replied, almost eager to flex his Russian as Ilya had barely spoken it to him since they began their trip.

“You two speak Russian?” Sandra asked, looking at Shane and Ilya as they whipped their heads and looked at her. “How did you learn?”

Ilya and Shane were silent. Shane realized, to his horror, that Ilya had called him ‘my love’. Did Sandra catch that? His palms began to sweat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I don’t get to practice a lot. My wife tried to learn, but she found it too difficult so she stopped.” Sandra played with the drawstrings of her sweater. “You may have met her actually. She works the visitor center desk and runs the day tours during the summer.”

”Your—your wife?” Ilya stuttered.

“You two don’t think you’re the only queer couple in west Texas do you?” Sandra asked, a smile so wide on her face you could see it in the dark. ”I’m Sandra, short for Aleksandra.” Sandra outstretched her hand to shake Ilya’s.

“Ilya…” Ilya shook her hand, still unsure if he could trust her.

The three talked for a while after Ilya looked at the clusters. They found out they Sandra was a retired professor from the University of Texas and helped some of the graduate students at the observatory. Her wife, apparently, was just window dressing and she was happy and thankful for that. They talked about their travels, their nice rental home, and how excited they were for horseback riding the next day.

When the wind for Saturn dwindled down to nothing, Sandra pushed them away to catch a glimpse before the telescope but not before Ilya handed her and his number. He insisted that Sandra and her wife join them for dinner and the hot tub, and maybe the four of them could look at the stars some more. Sandra gleefully accepted.

Saturn was spectacular, because of course it was. The rings were impossibly sharp, hanging in perfect silence against the black sky. Shane had seen photographs his entire life, had seen it through the tiny telescope his father had, but the photographs or that blurry image through the tiny telescope never captured the strange feeling that this planet was real—that light from it had travelled more than an hour just to reach his eye so that he could see the rings in all of their splendor.

Yet all Shane could think about as he stared at the rings was how small and welcoming their little gay community could be. He couldn’t believe they met another queer couple in the middle of nowhere west Texas of all places. And tomorrow, they would be having dinner together.

———

Stars swirled in Shane’s mind as their made their way slowly down the winding mountain road. The night was dark and still around them, and the Milky Way hung brightly in the sky. What would it take to fly there, Shane thought. How freeing would it be?

”You think so loudly.” Ilya broke the silence. “Where is your mind lost right now?”

Shane shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His mind had been nowhere, really. But Ilya always had a way of bringing his thoughts to the front—then soothing them away.

“Just—just the stars. Maybe Saturn. I’ve never seen the rings so clearly before.” Shane picked at the skin of his thumb.

“Mmm, yes. Was very nice. Presentation before we got to see the telescopes was kind of boring but it was still nice learning all the names of the constellations in English. I feel bad for never trying to learn them now.” Ilya kept his head pointed forward, concentrating on the dark road.

Shane hummed and tried to fiddle with the radio. Still just country. He turned it off and picked at the skin of his thumb again. He was itching to pull out his phone and look at the spreadsheet, but he was worried the brightness of the screen might distract Ilya.

Would it just distract Ilya?

”What was your favorite thing you saw tonight?” Shane asked, unsure of what else to say.

“The star clusters that were millions of light years away from us and millions of lightyears away from each other. They were just sitting there, so easy to see through the telescope lens as if all that distance didn’t matter. Makes you think how lost in space you can get.” Ilya’s fingers loosened and began to gently tap on the wheel, trying to create some sort of noise to break the icy silence.

Shane looked out the window, the short desert mountains surrounding them hidden by the dark. What would they look like when the sun was baking down on them tomorrow?

”I’m scared.” Shane startled himself when the words came tumbling out of his mouth.

“Scared? How do you mean? I am driving slow and paying attention. I even drank coffee at the coffee shop.” Ilya didn’t tear his eyes of the road.

“No. Your driving is good…for once.” Shane smiled as Ilya huffed out a laugh. “Just scared about tomorrow. The next day. Portland. I had everything so planned out, everything was perfect. And then I just forgot that binder like it was nothing when it had everything. If I can’t keep track of a stupid binder, how am I supposed to keep track of a tiny human.”

”Comparing losing a binder to a child are two very different things, Shane. I think one is way more important than the other.”

”The binder, obviously.”

Ilya laughed quietly as he took them down another mountain curve and Shane watched as the road straightened in front of them. They were finally down the mountain.

The silence stretched before them again and Shane kept picking at his thumb. It had been bleeding for some time now. He was thankful there were bandaids in his backpack—he planned for everything after all.

“Shane, I know it is scary, but you are brave.” Shane turned to look at Ilya as he spoke, his husband unwilling to take his focus off of the dark road. “This will be new for us both, but think of how long we have talked about kids, how much we have said we wanted them. But then it was next year when we retired, and then one more season, another season, a season after that. Now all this time has passed. All of the kids we babysit don’t need babysitting anymore.

”Having a baby will be scary. You think I am not scared to? Do you think I do not think about days where I may not be able to get out of bed and help with our child? That our child will be mocked because they will have two dads instead of normal parents? Will I lose my temper on nights they won’t sleep? Will I cry when they are sick and hurt?

”Shane, I think of all of these things. So many things that I think of, all terrible. But then I also think about your smile. How our child will have your smile. How I will watch them grow and give them love every day. That I will be a better father than my Papa.

”I am so scared, Shane. But I am also excited to do this with you.”

Shane gnawed at this lip and reached his hand out to touch Ilya’s thigh. Sometimes he forgot how deeply this man felt, how much he cared and looked into the future. That he only looked into a future with Shane.

“How do I control it?” Shane asked, looking at Ilya’s crooked nose, broken so many times from decades of hockey.

“Control what?”

”Everything.”

”Mmm, that is not something either of us can do, I think. Maybe a better question for your therapist, yes? I would love to be one for you, but I am not. What I will say is I always watch you control yourself—your diet, your exercise, your routine. Everything has to be perfect, has to be orderly. Life is not orderly, especially not a child. It will not be easy, but we will have to work and control what we can.”

Shane couldn’t see much of life that wasn’t in his control; it was always something that he had excelled at. To give it up, to give all of this up? Shane wasn’t sure if he could. He thought of moments of his life where he had sacrificed his control and could think of so little outside of Ilya in the bedroom. But that was the bedroom, not life.

Not a child.

“I’m still so scared.” Shane gripped Ilya’s thigh tightly.

“Yeah. Me too. But tomorrow is tomorrow and it will come no matter what we do. Best just to make do with what we have now, yes?”

Shane nodded and looked out the window again, the dim lights of Fort Davis coming into view. Part of him wanted to be back at their rental home now, part of him just wanted this drive to continue—to let the dark and stars consume them.

Yet before he knew it, the paved road turned to dirt road and the tiny town looked firmly asleep. Getting out of the car, Shane stretched, feeling the motions of the day heavy within his bones. He turned and looked at Ilya, who was giving himself similar stretches and staring up at the star-filled sky above them.

“Ilya?” Shane asked quietly. “I have another question”

”Yes, moya lyubov?”

”So…that purple dildo. Was that the surprise you were talking about yesterday?”

Ilya looked over at him blankly for a moment before breaking out in loud laughter, his hands bracing themselves against the hood of the car. He looked mischievously at Shane and reached his hand out to grasp Shane’s, leading them inside.

Chapter End Notes

As always, kudos or comment if you have enjoyed~

Chapter 9: Tab 9: Horseback Riding

Chapter Summary

With the binder gone and the itinerary no longer in control, Shane and Ilya let a stranger's recommendation lead them to Marfa. Along the way, they find questionable cheese, unexpected friendship, and an evening that reminds them the best detours rarely appear on a map.

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: The Cabin on the Hill by The Ruen Brothers

Sorry for the wait! Holiday + toddler = no free time.

“This y’all’s first time riding?” The wrangler asked as Shane looked apprehensively at the corral in front of him.

Shane shook his head then paused. “Well, technically yes. Once when I was, like, seven. And it was at a fair. I think it was a pony.”

”Ok,” The wrangler said, adjusting his hat against the quickly heating sun. “So you’ve never ridden before. That’s fine, most people that come through our stables haven’t. I’m going to put you on one of our easier horses. His name is ‘Strawberry’ and he’s a bit sweet and tart just like the fruit. You’ll have fun on him…just don’t move your legs too far forward or he may bite.” The wrangler (cowboy? Was Shane allowed to call him that?), motioned to a reddish brown horse with white speckles on his back.

The wrangler then walked over to Ilya who was feverishly snapping pictures of the horses, making kissing noises trying to get them to look at him. The wrangler laughed, “If they didn’t have their bits in, I’d give you a sugar cube to feed ‘em. Now, same question to you. You ever ridden a horse?”

Ilya shrugged. “Quite a bit back in Russia. My friend, her father owned a few horses. She would take me riding with her from time to time.”

”What riding style?”

”Uh,” Ilya looked at the wrangler blankly.

“English? Western?”

Ilya kept up his blank stare. The wrangler sighed.

“Did the saddle have a horn or no horn?”

”Horn?”

”Ok, so English. These horses here are trained Western style so that means a lot of guiding with your legs and loose rein work. You can do light kicks or, preferably, squeezes to get Lemonade over there in the direction you want to go.” The wrangler pointed towards the golden yellow horse looking dully off in the distance. “You’ll be taking Lemonade and he’s a bit more challenging than Strawberry but if you’ve ridden before, no matter the style, you’ll be able to handle him. Ok, boys. Let’s get you in your helmets and get going. We’re going to be traversing up this here plateau, look over the fort, and then make our way back down before the noon heat hits.

“The trail is narrow and steep, so make sure you lean forwards as we go uphill and lean back as we go down. We’ll be going single file, so you won’t need to worry much about steering until we get to the top. You boys ready?”

The man wandered off leaving Shane and Ilya to put on their helmets. Shane gently punched Ilya in the arm, “Hey, you never told me you rode horses before. Kind of takes away from the ‘authentic cowboy experience’ if you ask me.”

”Mmm, no.” Ilya said as he strapped his helmet on. “I said I never had cowboy experience, not that I never rode a horse. These saddles are really different. Look way less comfortable.”

Shane laughed quietly as he strapped his helmet on just in time for the wrangler to make his way back out to them. When the wrangler helped Shane get up on Strawberry, Shane immediately realized two things: first, horses were much taller than they looked, and second, whoever invented saddles never spoke to a man with hips.

Once Ilya was settled, they took off down the trail where the wrangler had to constantly remind Ilya to stop taking pictures and he had to keep both hands on the reins. After the third and with the most authoritative ‘I will send you to your room’ tone from the wrangler, Ilya begrudgingly put his phone away and began to antsily tap on the saddle horn.

Shane sighed, this was exactly what he was worried about—Ilya could never sit still for more than five seconds, much less two hours seated on a horse where they were very slowly walking up the plateau. The slow amble also made Shane acutely aware that they had planned this vacation in July and the Texas sun was unforgiving.

By the time they made it to the top of the plateau, Shane was ready for the horse ride to be over. Neither Ilya nor the wrangler were particularly talkative, even when they reached the overlook to see the historic fort beneath them. Shane had hope their guide would give them some type of history lesson outside of, “Y’all should check out the fort, they have living actors.” Maybe a bit about the Buffalo soldiers, the Comanches, or maybe Henry Flipper, all of which Shane had eagerly researched and wanted to hear more about, but almost as soon as they reached the top, they made their way back down. Before they left, Shane saw Ilya snap another picture while the wrangler’s back was turned. Shane smiled.

Going down, by all accounts, was far more miserable than going up. The saddle was beginning to chafe Shane’s thighs and the unending silence was starting to actually irritate Shane.

“Ilya,” Shane called out to his husband in front of him, desperate to make some noise outside of the horses' hooves plodding along in the dirt and rocks beneath them. “What’s the plan for dinner tonight? I was thinking maybe we should make a charcuterie plate since we’ll have guests. Then you can make that lemon roast chicken recipe with the veggie bed that I like so much?”

”You know how much I like meat and cheese. This is good plan. We’ll go to the grocery store after we finish here, yes? Maybe stay inside store for thirty minutes because I am very hot.”

Shane laughed and continued to look at the brown surroundings. At least he had something to plan in his brain now while they made their way silently down the hill. Silent until—

“If y’all are looking for nice cheese and meat, don’t go to the store here. Go down to Marfa where all the yuppies and trust fund babies live. It’s close and their store has the fancy stuff y’all might be looking for.” The wrangler gruffed out as they approached the stable, his irritation of taking tourists on the same trail over and over again more evident than it had been throughout the entire ride.

Shane wracked his brain. He had heard of Marfa before but he couldn’t place it.

———

One thing Shane had quickly come to learn about Texas is that anyone who said ‘it’s just a short drive’ meant that the drive was anywhere from thirty minutes to the heat death of the universe. The drive to Marfa was a little over thirty and it was definitely not the “short jaunt” the lackluster wrangler had told them it would be.

Making the drive longer was that their selection of radio music was, yet again, limited. While they did have more to choose from than just country and lively Spanish accordion music, their only other options were Christian rock and conservative talk radio. Long silence it was. Shane should be used to it by now but it was certainly testing Shane’s patience of going out of their way for the whim of cheese.

Marfa, was by all accounts, as flat and brown as the desert that surrounded it. The streets were sparsely populated with the occasional cyclist riding a “retro” bike and everyone donned what could only be described as Instagram cowboy chic. Shane immediately understood why their horse guide had used the term ‘yuppies’.

Entering the parking lot to the grocery store, Ilya let out a long sigh. “Cowboy was lying. This was not a close drive. Why is everything in Texas so fucking far?”

Shane didn’t have a response. Why was everything in Texas so fucking far? Also, upon entering the Lowe’s grocery store, Shane wasn’t quite sure what their wrangler had meant when he said ‘good cheese selection’. As far as Shane could tell, their options were sliced cheese for sandwiches and if they were feeling really fancy, a can of spray cheese. Ilya immediately grabbed the can.

“No, we’re not serving our guests Cheeze Wiz, Ilya. It’s not even cheese.” Shane pulled the can out of Ilya’s hand and gently put it back on the end cap where it was so proudly displayed.

“What? It says cheese right here on the can.” Ilya motioned desperately at the ‘Made with Real Cheese’ label on the front of the can.

“This is cheese product, not cheese.”

“Uuuuugh, you are so boring. Maybe I can make fancy cheese spray designs on a plate. It is either the can of spray cheese or four varieties of American cheese.” Ilya grumbled, eyeing the paltry selection.

“Well, maybe we can get all four varieties, cut the slices up into squares, then put toothpicks in them. That way, it’ll at least look fancy.” Shane shrugged.

“No.”

Ilya immediately turned tail and went to ask the cashier if they had anything other than canned and deli cheese, but the cashier shrugged and sent them to the “high-end” grocery store that was down the road. Shane was growing very weary of what the definition of ‘high-end’ meant here in West Texas as he held a bottle of the store’s nicest wine, a bottle of Woodbridge Pinot Grigio. No alberiño much to Ilya’s chagrin. The store did have cheese other than Cheese Wiz, though Shane still wouldn’t classify it as nice.

When Ilya ushered Shane out the door to get the car started while he paid for the overpriced cheese, meat, and dinner materials, Shane’s bad mood was festering itself as deeply as the Texas heat on the black interior of their car. God he was melting. But then Shane saw Ilya as he sauntered out of the store, his black shirt clinging tightly to perfectly sculpted arms and chest. Shane’s mouth watered as Ilya went to the back and placed the small cooler in the back of the car—maybe there would be something for him to eat after lunch once they made it back to Fort Davis.

“Cashier recommended two things here in Marfa. Burritos at the food truck a few blocks down and then to see the art exhibit at the Chinati Foundation.” Ilya said as he slid into the driver's seat. “Burritos, that is a yes, you have no choice. Art exhibit, that is up to you.”

“Burritos sound good and I promise that I won’t complain as long as we run tomorrow morning before we take off. And yoga. Art sounds fun, so let’s do that. Sounds better than a museum next to a burger bar that’s dedicated to a town almost burning down.”

“Yes to run. No to yoga.” Ilya stared at Shane. His sunglasses were blocking Shane from seeing his eyes, but Shane knew that Ilya was staring daggers at him. Try as he might over the years, Ilya despised yoga more than any other exercise. This despite the fact that Ilya would, on rare occasion, begrudgingly admit how much it helped him with keeping his muscles loose and alleviate some of his joint pain.

”Oh, we’re negotiating?” Shane asked. Ilya cocked his eyebrow. “Ok, if you get a veggie burrito, then no yoga. Art exhibit is non-negotiable because you gave me that choice.”

Ilya grumbled and agreed to a vegetarian burrito. Ilya would do just about anything, bar celibacy, to avoid doing morning Yoga with Shane. Maybe Shane should be annoyed about it, but he intended to keep his husband happy and healthy for a very, very long time.

———

“That is not what I meant when I said a vegetarian burrito.” Shane grumbled as he picked at his burrito bowl.

“You said vegetarian.” Ilya managed to get out between giant bites. “You did not specify that the burrito, or its ingredients, could not be fried.” Ilya took another large, obnoxious bite of his fried tofu chimichanga. “Do not get mad at me that you did not set better rules for your own negotiation."

“Oh, I forget you Russians and how much you all love to push the rules to their upper limits. You thrived on that your entire hockey career.” Shane pursed his lips as he stabbed at the sad piece of wilted lettuce in his bowl.

”One, I am not Russian, I am Canadian. That is what my passport says. Two, yes. Ya tebya lyublyu.” Ilya winked and Shane could only smile. God, his husband was such an asshole sometimes.

Finishing their lunch, they drove over to the Chinati Foundation and purchased tickets to explore the site. The curator at the desk excitedly told them that it was an exploration of negative space and how the large building across from them used to house German POWs from WWII.

Shane realized he made a mistake almost immediately. Not the history portion, it was surprisingly fascinating. No, it was the exploration of negative space.

“So negative.” Ilya said dully looking at the large concrete blocks.

“It is an exhibit exploring negative space.” Shane quipped.

Ilya walked over to one of the blocks that was closed off in the back, then went to stand in a corner. “I feel like I am on the album cover of a shitty indie rock band. Shane, take a picture showing how negative I am.” Ilya turned so he was facing the corner.

Shane laughed as he snapped a few, each picture with Ilya growing increasingly sadder. They made it to each block, taking pictures along the way. Some solo, some together, all very negative. At the end of it, Shane was feeling thoroughly emo, a phase he was glad only lasted a few months for him in secondary school, mostly because Shane hated the feel of eyeliner.

By the time they got back to their rental home, it was already time to cook dinner as Sandra and her wife Melissa would be arriving in an hour. Ilya sent Shane to wash up while he got dinner started, and for good measure, Shane made use of the washing machine, unsure of when they would have the next chance to clean their clothes. Ilya was already in the shower by the time the last of the clothes had been loaded, so Shane decided to put the cheese plate together.

It was a poor selection, really. Shane would never serve this to guests, but he also knew that the artisan cheese shop they frequented back in Ottawa would be a tall ask for a place some people might describe as bumfuck nowhere. He smirked to himself as he began to lay out the cheese and meats, making sure there was just the right amount of honey, the mustard spread just so next to crackers. As he laid the last nut artfully in the corner, Shane found himself singing quietly.

“I love when you sing.” Ilya said in Russian as he nestled up against his back. “I wish you would do it more.”

”I, ah—“ That was all Shane managed to get out before Ilya was thoroughly attacking his ear. “Ilya, no. Sandra and Melissa will be here any minute.”

”Mmm, maybe just have them wait outside. Or just let me do you. You’re always so fast. Just promise me that you’ll sing while I suck you.” Ilya thrust his hand inside of Shane’s shorts where he seemed to be delighted to find that Shane was already half-hard.

“Oh, so we are negotiating now?”

Ilya laughed into the crooked of Shane’s neck and began to speed up the motion of his hand. Fuck, Ilya was right—he wasn’t going to last long.

A loud knock sounded at the door caused Ilya to stop, and Shane to let out a loud whine. What was with lesbians and always being so punctual?

Ilya groaned and removed his hand from Shane’s pants and went to answer the door while Shane scurried to the bathroom to try and calm himself down. He heard Ilya welcome Sandra and Melissa and then mentioned that Shane was pooping so he may be a little bit.

Fucker.

Shane emerged a few minutes later and said a shy ‘Hi’ to their new friends sitting comfortably on the couch with an open bottle of Woodbridge Pinot Grigio. The meat plate sat in front of them, already picked at, which made Shane smile wider until—was that…Cheeze Wiz? Shane walked closer to the plate.

That fucker.

Shane shot a glance over to Ilya who merely raised his hands and grinned at him crookedly. His husband then reached out and grabbed a chip, scrapping it wantonly through the spray cheese. He then placed the cracker in his mouth and made a delighted moan as he chewed.

That little fucker.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so keen on spray cheese.” Melissa remarked as she sipped on her overly cheap wine.

“Sorry about the selection.” Shane remarked as he playfully batted at Ilya, trying to get him to stop his cheese product demonstration. “We were told the grocery store in Marfa was better than the one here. The choices were canned cheese and four types of American.”

”I, for one, did not know there were four different types of American cheese.” Sandra said as she grabbed an almond from the plate.

”Oh,” Ilya excitedly waved. “There are many types of American cheeses. First—“

”Forgive my husband, but you have now started him on cheese and he will not stop. You do not have to re-insert coins to keep on talking.” Shane winked at Ilya who grinned and took another bit of the Cheeze Wiz.

The topic of cheese seemed to actually delight their guests and they spent the better part of the time waiting for the chicken to finish with Ilya giving a detailed history of Roquefort cheese. Shane chiming in with his perfect french, then perfect french accent, had the two women laughing and Ilya in near tears. Shane wasn’t sure of the last time he had had such a good laugh.

Ilya insisted on serving dinner on the outdoor table to enjoy the evening weather and Shane couldn’t complain. With the sun steadily setting, the heat of the day had fully melted giving way to an evening of perfect melancholy. It was also where Ilya surprised Shane with a bottle alberiño. Apparently, Shane had just been looking at the wrong part of the store, though Ilya agreed, putting the good wine near the postcards didn’t make a lot of sense.

In classic Ilya fashion, the dinner was spectacular. Sandra couldn’t stop talking about how perfect the vegetables were, but the only addition she would make was Cheeze Wiz. As dinner lulled and store bought cookies were brought out for dessert, Shane contentedly sighed.

“So,” Sandra asked as she drained the last of the alberiño in her glass. “How long have you been together.”

“Depends on your definition of together.” Ilya said as he took a large bite of his cookie. “I was mad for him when we first started flirting at eighteen, but it wasn’t until Shane finally decided he was gay that we actually started dating. Only took eight years.”

Ilya reached out and grabbed Shane’s hand, squeezing lightly. Shane couldn’t stop staring at his husband, the last of the sun’s glow surrounding him like a halo. Ilya intertwined their fingers.

“How about you two?” Shane asked, trying to tear his eyes off his god of a husband.

“It will be fifteen years of marriage next month.” Melissa cooed as she reached for Sandra’s hand.

“That’s mostly because of me. Sorry,” said Sandra as she stared into Melissa’s eyes. “I’m a late in life lesbian. Melissa and I actually met at grad school at UCLA and I remember being so enamored by her and energy. She was so beautiful.”

“Was?” Scoffed Melissa. “I’m not anymore?”

“Oh hush,” Sandra batted her wife. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. You’ve never stopped being beautiful.”

Shane smiled and squeezed Ilya’s hand. He hoped this would be their future–old and figures filled with age and joy. Still staring at each other with deep love and eyes. He could do without the bad cheese though.

“My father was a very conservative man. Russian refugee from the Cold War but still conservative and set in the Soviet ways.” Sandra mused.

“Your father is the one who taught you Russian?” Ilya asked as he opened the next bottle of alberiño and poured a glass for everyone at the table.

“And my mother. But Papa was, well, how do you put this?”

“Strict?” Ilya quipped, taking a large sip of the wine.

“Very. It made it hard for me to accept that I just really wasn’t attracted to men. I tried, I really did. Melissa tempted me a lot in grad school, but I broke her heart and got married. Traditional man from a traditional Russian family. Had two kids–a boy and a girl. Lived the heterosexual dream.”

Shane squirmed. He thought of the days where he tried so hard to be straight–so hard to be normal. What would his life been had Rose not tried to help him understand that he was gay? Would he have ever realized it? Would he have gotten married to a woman and had kids? Break Ilya’s heart? Break his own…

They say in quantum physics that there are multiple realities. How many realities did Shane live trying to be straight? Was he happy in any of them or was joy ash in his mouth as he continued to deny his desires.

“It wasn’t until my fifty third birthday that I finally broke down and admitted to myself that I just wasn’t attracted to men.” Sandra continued, ripping Shane from his thoughts. “I’ll never forget cleaning the kitchen after my birthday party ended. All night long, I had watched a coworker and his husband. They were all over each other–kissing, holding hands, whispering in each other’s ears. They had been partners for almost 30 years, but were acting like newlyweds. I tried to remember the last time my husband had touched me, realized it had been years, but the last time he had done it, I recoiled in disgust.

“I collapsed on the floor by the sink and started sobbing. I couldn’t do it anymore. And then I broke my husband’s heart. Whatever was left of it anyway after years of neglect.” Sandra picked at the crumbs of the cookie on her plate. She looked up and saw how quiet the table was and cleared her throat. “Sorry, that was depressing…”

“No,” Ilya reached his other hand across the table and held Sandra’s hand. “Thank you for sharing that with us.”

Sandra smiled at Ilya then Melissa. Shane suddenly felt very small in the picture but was awestruck that Sandra could have still found love.

“Well,” Melissa chimed in. “She’s missing part of the story. It wasn’t just her gay coworker. I was going through my own midlife crisis. I had divorced my wife, she was threatening to move across the country with our kids to pursue her career, and one evening, I had maybe more than a bottle of wine and I messaged Sandra on FaceBook. I wished her ‘happy birthday’ and then immediately regretted it during my hangover the next day.

“Lo and behold, Miss Sandra over here messaged me back a few days late. One messy divorce with ex-husband, some nasty fights with the ex-wife, and we were living together just a couple short years later. Took us 30 years too long but—“

”We’ve ended at the destination that we needed to be.” Sandra completed the sentence, her hands still held by Melissa and Ilya.

“What did you kids think of all of this?” Shane blurted out before he could stop himself. His cheeks instantly flushed at the far too personal question.

“My kids didn’t care.” Melissa replied. “They grew up with two moms so getting a third didn’t seem huge to them, especially since Sandra is an amazing stepmother. Sandra’s kids…”

Sandra pursed her lips and squeezed Melissa’s hands tighter. “I’m very thankful for my stepchildren.” She said quietly, unable to look at Shane and instead stared at her empty plate. “They come up here a lot.” Sandra continued. “Especially in the summer. Dee, Melissa’s youngest, had a baby at the start of the year and will be coming up here with her husband next week. We get to have them at the house for a whole month!”

Shane smiled. The thought of grandchildren delighted him even though he had yet to have a child of his own.

Dessert wound down after Ilya insisted on a few more cookies and then pushed the rest on to the two women to take with them.

As Melissa packed the cookies away, Sandra eyed the hot tub. “Now,” she said. “I remember something about you saying to bring swimsuits because you had a hot tub. Would it be untoward of me to ask if we can change and hop in? The evening is starting to finally get chilly.”

Ilya squealed and quickly began to clean the table, allowing the women to change while Shane ensured the hot tub was the perfect temperature. Once everyone was settled, the bottle of Woodbridge having snuck back out now that the good wine was finished, Shane took one of his first relaxed breaths for the evening, especially as Ilya drew him close next to him and placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

They had the hot tub at the cottage, but maybe they should get one for their home in Ottawa. Sitting here with Ilya snuggling him while they watched their two new friends giggle with delight over the bubbles was enthralling. Not to mention the warm water was doing wonders for Shane’s legs, now sore from the horse ride earlier in the day.

Shane was starting to feel good and pruney when the conversation finally began to lull. The evening was getting late, and Shane was beginning to dread the long drive to Albuquerque tomorrow. He was about to politely ask the couple to leave when he saw Sandra and Melissa whispering to each other and then turn to Shane and Ilya.

“You know the good thing about living in a house in the middle of basically nowhere Texas?” Melissa asked as she briefly rose out of the hot tub to search through her purse. After a few seconds, she exclaimed with glee and pulled out a small case covered in cars. She opened the case to reveal several neatly rolled joints. “It means you can grow your own weed and there’s no one around to smell.”

Ilya gasped and his eyes went wide. He looked towards Shane with pleading eyes and Shane gave him his knowing smile. Ilya nodded yes and Melissa began to light the joint and pass it around and Ilya took no time at all to take two deep drags before passing it to Shane. Now, Shane didn’t always imbibe—weed tended to make him anxious, but the hot tub and the good company made Shane think, yes, maybe just a little bit tonight. He took a small hit and let it settle in his lungs before exhaling and passing it to Sandra.

The four passed it around until it was just Ilya and Melissa sucking on the last parts of the joint. Sandra seemed to be feeling just as beautiful as Shane was when their partners finally finished the joint between them.

Ilya dunked his head under the water and began to make giant bubbles, and Shane wasn’t quite sure, but it was the funniest damn thing he had ever seen. Suddenly, the backyard was filled with Shane’s laughter as Ilya came out of the water and shook his hair, ensuring that a shower of water droplets covered Shane. Shane laughed harder and suddenly Sandra and Melissa were joining in. He was in tears by the time, he finally stopped laughing and Ilya was grinning at him maniacally, his husband’s eyes lightly glazed and filled with love.

Shane turned away and stared up the the stars beginning to fill the sky. Melissa began to chime in about what constellations they would be able to see soon and Sandra lamented the fact that she hadn’t been able to bring her telescope as she allowed her colleague to use it for the star viewing that night. There was apparently a nice nebula Sandra had been hoping to show them, but she eventually waved it off and told Shane and Ilya that they would just get to see it next time they were in the area.

Next time. Shane smiled.

Eventually, everyone agreed that the hot tub had become too hot and they were all thoroughly soaked and sweating. Slowly, they all made their way out of the hot tub and Shane and Ilya let the other couple have privacy in the small home to change while they stayed out, looking at the stars. Shane wasn’t sure he was ready to leave tomorrow.

“Hey guys,” Shane heard Melissa call out as she walked out of the back door. “I’ve got a question for y’all.”

Shane smiled and grabbed Ilya’s hand, bringing them inside. There, they found Sandra and Melissa giggling like school girls, both standing in front of the bedroom door staring at…something…

“Yes?” Ilya asked, eyeing them suspiciously as the two continued to giggle in front of the door.

“Do y’all two actually use that?” Sandra pointed inside the bedroom where the purple dildo stood proudly suctioned on top of the side table.

Shane flushed. In their hurry to get ready, he hadn’t even thought to tuck the joke dildo away. Ilya had, of course, tried to tempt Shane with it the night before, but Shane had been firm that the massive thing was going nowhere near his ass.

“Like, I know gay men love anal but..” Melissa giggled. “Y’all, that’s impressive. It’s the size of a fist!”

“Oh I know.” Shane said, still feeling emboldened by the joint. “And just to be clear…it’s his.” Shane pointed to his husband who immediately flushed and laughed.

Ilya raised his arms and smiled at their friends. “You’ve got me. Guilty as charged.”

Sandra laughed so hard, she had to wipe tears from her eyes while Melissa leaned against the bedroom door trying to catch her breath.

“Well,” Melissa finally managed to get out. “I guess we’ve all learned something tonight.

Shane wasn’t entirely sure what that something was. But as Ilya slipped his hand into Shane’s and they walked their friends into the cool West Texas evening, he found himself giggle along with the rest.

Somehow, that felt like enough.

Chapter End Notes

As always, comment or kudos if you enjoy~

Hope everyone has been enjoying this journey as much as I have :)

Chapter 10: Destination ?

Chapter Summary

With the binder gone, Shane reluctantly agrees to an unplanned detour through Carlsbad Caverns. Between ancient caves, terrible bat jokes, and millions of bats that refuse to keep to anyone's schedule, he begins to wonder if the best parts of the trip were never in the itinerary to begin with.

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: Backwards Directions by Abby Sage

Morning came far too soon for Shane even though they had both agreed on an early night. It would be over seven hours of driving to Albuquerque today, and Shane felt himself dreading the drive for the first time on this road trip. What was the point of a road trip if you weren’t driving?

Part of Shane was missing the neat plastic tabs laying out historical markers and roadside gags, but he supposed the Google Sheet he made would have to do. He would miss the feel of the paper beneath his fingertips and instead rely on a digital translation—a poor substitute if anything. These were the thoughts coursing through his mind when he and Ilya did yoga quietly that morning, with the sun barely peaking over the desert mountains. It stayed firmly in his brain as they ran hard through the sleepy town of Fort Davis, even as the sun began to heat the chilled ground and tried to stymie any thought he may have.

As Ilya cooked breakfast, Shane nervously scrolled his phone looking at the itinerary on their Google sheet. He then looked at the map on his phone with it showing three ways to Albuquerque and eyed at the longest route running through Carlsbad. He remembered reading about the cave there but had decide not to put it as a side stop because it would take away a night and day elsewhere, but now he wondered…maybe skip one of the day adventures in Albuquerque or Santa Fe.

”Hey, Ilya.” Shane called out, zooming in on the map.

“Yes?” Ilya licked his fingers as he placed the last batch of protein pancake on the pan.

”How do you feel about going to a cave on the way to Albuquerque? It adds 30 minutes to the drive and will mean a 10+ hour commute with stopping to do a tour, so we’ll miss our dinner reservation and we may be too tired to—“

”Shane, stop.” Ilya walked over and sat next to Shane and grabbed his hand. “That sounds really fun. Let’s do that. Maybe we just sleep in late tomorrow, yes?”

Shane smiled and leaned forward to kiss his husband. God, he loved how Ilya tasted. He could skip the whole drive today and just stay here, tucked in the mountains, and just kiss Ilya this deeply and gently all day. Shane moaned as Ilya pulled away from his mouth and began to attack his neck, sloppy kisses and deep breaths. He inhaled Ilya’s hair as his husband suckled at his throat—that freshly showered hair that smelled of shampoo and was distinctly Ilya…and burnt pancakes?

”Blyat!” Ilya tore away from Shane and ran over to the stove to yank the pan off the burner, staring sadly at the remains of the pancakes. “Sorry, we’ll have to split breakfast. At least we have lots of fruit,” Ilya mumbled as he tossed the pancakes in the trash.

Breakfast only soured further when Ilya checked his email. The surrogacy agency had finally emailed Ilya back and confirmed that digital copies wouldn’t suffice; they would need to have all their friends write letters, notarize them, and then mail to the hotel, not to mention everything their lawyer would need to re-do and send. Hopefully, by some miracle, all of that would be at their hotel in Portland or else this entire journey would be a waste. Shane tried to stifle back tears as he ate his pancake, but Ilya caught on to the sniffling and pulled Shane into a tight hug. They clung to each other for some time and Shane could swear he heard several quiet sniffles from Ilya, but his husband pulled away and quickly turned back to his plate to hide his puffy eyes.

Shane let the silence between them stretch for a bit before he got Ilya’s hint of a literal cold shoulder and walked into the bedroom to pack up their things. Folding their clothes, Shane found himself thinking of Ottawa, of Anya, his mother and father. Homesickness hit him startling fast, and Shane quickly found himself reaching for his phone to call his mother.

“Shane! How’s the trip going?” Yuna answered excitedly. Shane almost couldn’t bear it.

”Mom…” Shane’s voice quivered.

“Shane, what’s wrong?” Yuna’s voice was patient and filled with worry.

As tempted as he was, Shane stopped himself from crying. Enough of that for today. Instead, he let loose the facts. That they were irresponsible idiots and lost everything for the agency, how everything would have to be redone in less than a week and then mailed to Portland. How much of an idiot, god such an idiot, he felt for leaving that stupid binder on the back seat.

Shane was stuttering by the time he finished, and Yuna, to her credit, remained silent while Shane unleashed his anxiety on her. He played with the hem of his shirt as his mother replayed the story to make sure she understood and by the time she was done, Shane’s eyes were fresh with tears.

“Oh honey,” She called out as she heard a particularly deep sob from her son. “We’ll get this fixed. It was an accident and you can’t blame yourself for that. You leave it to me. Just text me everyone’s numbers and I’ll ensure everyone has their letters written and sent. I’ll drive to Montreal to pick it up from Hayden if I have to.”

”Mom—“

”Shane, don’t start. I can assure you, I’m looking forward to meeting my grandchild and I will do everything in my power to make it happen. You two just enjoy your vacation—you both deserve after all you both gave to hockey. Breathe for me and relax. Your mom has got this. You two aren’t alone.”

It took more power than Shane cared to admit to keep himself from starting to cry again. But he held firm and sent the numbers to their friends’ and former coach that Yuna didn’t have while his mother regaled him with stories of Anya and how she insisted on sleeping on the bed every night, how sweet she was, and how they almost certainly weren’t getting the dog bag after this trip meaning Ilya would likely have to pry their dog from David’s arms.

Shane filled Yuna in on their trip, the places they stayed, the wine they drank, the people they met, the stars they saw. The knot of anxiety and homesickness was gone by the time he hung up the phone and tucked Ilya’s diary back into his bag, satisfied with a job well done of cramming their growing collection of items into their small backpacks.

Breakfast’s somber mood was still clinging to Ilya, and Shane found him was busy drying the dishes by the time he came out of the bedroom. “Last bit of coffee is in that cup,” Ilya said as he placed the last dish on the drying rack. “Drink it now if you want it or I will wash it. All dishes have to be cleaned before according to the host sheet.”

“Ilya,” Shane came up behind his husband and hugged him tight. “Come back.”

Ilya softened immediately in Shane’s hug and clasped Shane’s hands. Shane hummed and snuggled close, breathing in Ilya.

“I talked to my mom.” Shane said into Ilya’s back as his husband leaned further into him.

“Oh? How is Yuna? Anya?”

”All good. We may not get Anya back though.” Shane kissed the back of Ilya’s neck.

“Favorite son and they steal my dog?” Ilya laughed and turned to face Shane. He reached out and thumbed Shane’s freckles, causing Shane to crinkle his eyes as he smiled wide.

“Our dog. We updated Anya’s paperwork after we got married. She’s a Hollander-Rozanov, too.” Shane kissed Ilya’s cheek and moved his arms to wrap around Ilya’s neck. “Anyway, I talked to my mom, let her know what happened. She promised to round up all the letters and get them mailed to our hotel in Portland. I already gave Weibe’s and Wyatt’s number. We just need to call our lawyer and get him to mail the paperwork. God that’s going to cost a fortune.”

”And a child won’t?” Ilya laughed and placed soft kisses on top of Shane’s head. “Yuna will drive four hours round trip to get the letter from Hayden and Jackie?”

”Mom mentioned Jackie owing her brunch for Hayden cancelling one of his speaking appearances for the Irina Foundation last minute a few weeks ago.”

”She’s still mad at Hayden for getting lost on the way to the event?”

”He wasn’t lost. He was hungover and you know it.” Shane poked Ilya in the chest.

Ilya did know it—he had been the cause of it. The three had celebrated Luka Haas becoming a fourth time MLH Cup champion with Colorado. It had stung when Luka moved to Colorado three seasons ago, but both Shane and Ilya understood. Even though the husbands’ star power had waned in their ending seasons, Luka was still second line and never got the ice time he deserved. Colorado offered him the best, and though Ilya would never admit it, he cried with pride when Luca scored the winning goal using the Rozanov technique.

The celebration got wild, and eventually Jackie kicked the three out because apparently even the teenagers wanted to sleep at 1AM. They ambled to the nearest bar and continued to celebrate until last call and then until the sun rose in their hotel. Hayden was barely conscious when it came time for his speaking event and all parties agreed that he would just say he got lost. None could credit the hockey players for being particularly smart when it came to excuses. Shane blamed the hangover.

While Shane sipped the last of the coffee and cleaned the cup, Ilya made headway getting a hold of their lawyer to re-do the paperwork and send it to Portland. Shane had been right that it would be a small fortune, but it was a small price to pay to start their family. The two were feeling considerably lighter by the time they loaded their car and made their way towards Albuquerque by way of Carlsbad.

———

“Last night was fun, yes?” Ilya mused as he looked out the window, the desert mountains continuing to rise around them. “I think it firmly put me on team, ‘We’re getting a hot tub for the backyard’. I do not think there are many arguments against it now.”

”Wrong.” Shane giggled. “How much time are we going to be spending in Ottawa, really? I thought the plan had been to move out to the cottage full time.”

”Yes, is still the plan. Oh cow!” Ilya pointed out to the herd of cattle by the side of the road. “So many cows…Anyway. Why not have a hot tub at Ottawa home, too? It’s not like we are selling it. Maybe my Christmas present to you.”

”You mean Christmas present to yourself.”

”Tomato, tomato.”

”Ilya, you just said ‘tomato’ the same way twice.”

”Because I am correct.”

“Oh, so you’re always correct?”

Shane paused and quickly looked at Ilya. That bastard was staring at him with that crooked grin.

“Don’t look at me like that. I need to concentrate on driving.” Shane turned back to the road, his face flushed. Ilya took the chance to snake his hand towards Shane’s leg and began to palm at his crotch. There was fire in his husband’s eyes. “I’m serious, Ilya. Let me drive. I don’t want a second accident on this trip. We’re only thirty minutes from the cave. Wait until this evening.”

”There’s a parking lot there, surely.”

”This evening.” Shane held firm and kept his eyes on the road in front of him. Why did he marry such a demon?

“Cow!” Ilya suddenly called out, his hand leaving Shane’s leg far faster than he wanted. Black cow! Brown Cow! Shane, there are like one hundred cows over there. Do you think we can milk them?”

Shane smirked seeing Ilya’s face pressed against the window. God, he loved he loved this man.

———

Arriving at the caverns, felt like it should be momumentus based on what was described on the website, but the Visitor’s Center was small and lackluster and filled with bats. So many bat themed items. Shane looked around while Ilya went to purchase them tickets for a tour. He held up a bat shirt, then a bat pen, a bat sweater, a bat stuffed animal. Creepy…

He had had just about enough of looking at bat items when Ilya finally appeared next to him.

“Good and bad news.” Ilya said, discretely placing his palm on the small of Shane’s back. “Bad news, all the online tours are sold out, buuuuuut your amazing husband here bought us the last tickets for the walk-up only tour around the King’s Palace chamber. Also, I was thinking—“

”Is that ever a good idea?” Chirped Shane as he removed Ilya’s hand from his back as he watched a small family approach the bat stuffed animals he was standing next to.

“Rude but fair.” Ilya frowned and then gently guided them towards the small cafeteria. “The clerk said they have a free bat viewing every night during the summer. Apparently, millions of bats live in this cave and they come out every night. There will be a presenter there to talk about bat and cave facts. I thought this sounded very fun. We should do it.”

It was Shane’s turn to frown. If they stayed the entire day, it would mean getting in to Albuquerque at close to midnight. Shane didn’t trust himself driving on unfamiliar dark roads at night nor did he trust Ilya to hold his concentration for the remaining four hours of the drive, especially after a heaving day of hiking and sitting in the desert heat.

Shane thumbed at the pockets of his shorts and looked down. He couldn’t bear to look at Ilya’s bright eyes after finding a new nugget of fun information. Now Shane was kicking himself right now for forgetting his night driving glasses at him—they were sitting right on the island of their kitchen, probably mocking him all the way from Ottawa. Who was Shane kidding? Glasses don’t talk.

“I don’t know, Ilya.” Shane kept staring at the ground, both thumbs now playing the the edges of his pockets. “We’ve already changed so much of this trip alread. Seeing the bats…that means getting in Albuquerque at midnight, maybe later. You know I don’t drive well at night anymore. Besides, it’s just bats. We see bats all the time at the cottage.”

”One of two, yes. Not millions. This is millions of bats.” Ilya placed his hands on Shane’s shoulders, in a gentle friendly way. Shane hoped that no one would notice their wedding rings—he wasn’t sure how tourists of New Mexico were compared to rural Texans when it came to a gay couple. “Why don’t we just stay somewhere around here for tonight. Go to Albuquerque early in the morning and stick to the schedule you built. Good plan, yes?”

Shane looked up at his husband. Sometimes he hated how right that man could be. But being the good husband that Shane was, he didn’t want to let Ilya be too right—it would be too much for his ego to handle.

“Maybe.” Shane muttered, a challenging sparkle in his eyes.

Ilya smiled and removed his hands, happy with his little victory. “Ok, moya lyubov, tour is in an hour. Let’s eat a shitty lunch here and maybe see if there is a fun place to stay around here. If no, then I will make rest of the drive to Albuquerque and we skip first couple things in the morning so that you can let your gorgeous husband sleep. Is plan, yes?”

“Is plan.” Shane smirked and walked towards the cafeteria to get them a meager lunch of frozen enchiladas.

The two sat and ate in silence, both glued to their phones to see if they could find as good place to stay for the evening. Shane was only pulling up basic motels and low-end hotels, which would be a far cry from the spa and resort they had booked in Albuquerque. Man, Shane could really use a massage.

”Oh!” Ilya called out, pointing excitedly at his phone. “I found our hotel. Or, uh, well…bus.”

”Bus?”

Ilya turned his phone over to Shane. Yep, it was a bus. A very nice looking school bus, but a bus nonetheless. It was surrounded by a beautiful wooden porch with cactuses and a telescope. There were small chairs and a table on the porch and the ad even mentioned a shower large enough for two.

Shane had heard of worse places to stay and it did look cozy. It was also about a forty five minute drive close to Albuquerque, which meant a shorter drive the next day. Shane sighed in defeat and handed Ilya his phone back. He watched as his husband did a small dance at the table before he booked their bus for the night and then cancelled their first night in Albuquerque. Thank God for travel insurance.

———

For one thing, Shane was happy that the tour group was small, only fifteen people. It meant Shane wouldn’t have to crane his neck to hear their tour guide speak or worry about too many people jostling around him. Shane would never admit this to Ilya, but caves and their enclosed, damp spaces slightly terrified him. Definitely not because he had watched one too many cave themed horror movies on planes on the way to away games.

Ilya was, of course, ecstatic. He had purposefully put them at the back of the group, and took as many chances as he could get to let his hands slide against Shane’s arms, back, and ass. Shane kept wanting to tell the Russian man to stop, but every time Ilya moved his hand away, Shane missed the warmth of his light touches.

The tour proved itself to be fascinating and Shane quickly became glad they had made this detour. The history was great, but the shine in Ilya’s eyes as Shane let his husband pull him close for pictures together for strangers to take of them was better.

When they finally made it to the King’s Chamber, the guide had them sit along the edge of the path. He detailed the millions of years it took to make this chamber, the ancient seas, eons of water slowly eroding away rock only for it to stubbornly build up again as the sediment within the water itself.

The cave was quiet, the group itself silent and the guide’s voice barely above a whisper. Ilya’s body was pressed close to his, his radiant heat protecting Shane against the damp chill of the cavern.

“And now,” the tour guide said as he walked over to a small panel. “I’m going to turn the lights out for a minute. No talking during this time. No cameras. Just sit and enjoy. Listen to the natural beauty of this cave.

Immediately, they were plunged into darkness. Shane inhaled deeply and searched for Ilya’s hand. Ilya found his quickly and gave Shane a gentle squeeze. The two sat in silence, the only noise was water dripping and the occasionally sniffle from someone in their tour group.

Shane tried to count the seconds. The drips of the water. The steady breathing of Ilya. The guide seemed in no rush to turn the lights back on. Ilya was busy stroking Shane’s thumb and Shane soon found himself getting lost in his husband’s warmth. Shane snuggled in and breathed in deeply—he would never get tired of Ilya’s smell. Quietly and gently, Shane moved his head so that his nose was tickling Ilya’s ear and went lower, placing a quiet kiss on Ilya’s neck. He felt his husband shiver beneath his lips.

Just as Shane was pulling away, the lights flicked back on. Ilya released Shane’s hand quickly, but the Russian was staring at Shane in the eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes that held an ocean within them. Held all of Ilya’s love for Shane. His husband smiled, that wide and crooked grin, those eyes filled with love. Shane was sure he had melted and become water on the cave floor.

As the tour wound down, Shane kept them at the back of the group, sneaking quiet touches against Ilya’s arm, back, behind. And his husband kept reaching out, letting the tips of their fingers touch ever so softly before someone in front could see.

———

“Ok, so the bat viewing isn’t for a few more hours.” Ilya said as he rummaged through the gift shop. “I was thinking, maybe we walk the main chamber for a bit. The hike takes over an hour and then we can come can back for a dinner of overpriced burrito that was heated in a microwave.”

Ilya picked up a small box and shook it before putting it back down and moved towards the bat stickers. He made quick work of thumbing through all of them before gleefully pulling out his favorites and then what he thought the kids of his former teammates might like, too. Shane hummed as he watched Ilya pull out sticker after sticker and held on to hope that they would still get the chance to babysit this season even though he knew they would be spending most of it at the cottage from here on out. Small trips to Ottawa wouldn’t hurt.

“Sounds good.” Shane said as he picked up the hideous bat stuffed animal again. Ruby would love it.

“What is a ‘Mexican Jumping Bean’?” Ilya asked as he picked up the small box again and shook it harder.

Shane stared at him blankly. “Not a clue,” he said as he grabbed the box from his husband’s hand. “Box says it jumps. That would make it a jumping bean.”

”But…how…?” Ilya snatched the box back and added it to the pile of stickers.

The two wandered around the store for some time, maybe grabbing a few too many items with the promise to make a pit stop in Albuquerque to yet again, mail things back to Ottawa. Shane was beginning to doubt their travel light strategy if it meant mailing souvenirs back every three days.

After depositing two new bags filled with too many bat toys and punny shirts, the two made their way down into the main cavern. Shane hadn’t had many opportunities in his life to explore caves and walking into the wide mouth of Carlsbad Cavern filled him with regret of turning down Ilya for Sonora just a few days ago. Was it as immense as this cave? Filled stalagmites and stalactites that almost made pillars spanning over ten meters?

They walked the cavern in near silence, admiring each formation and taking selfies and quietly laughing as Ilya kept trying to ruin the pictures with silly faces. With quick pecks on Shane’s cheeks. Shane should have felt cautious, aware of the families and those that may not be accepting. But Ilya’s kisses were quick and it was dark and the kisses felt so so good. With each step, the two walked closer together until they reached the end of the cavern tour, their fingers lightly intertwined.

No one said a thing.

When it was time for the bat viewing to begin, Shane was feeling a calm exhaustion creeping into his bones. He was thankful they decided on renting a room…bus…for the evening. The thought of having to stay awake to keep Ilya awake for the four hour drive to Albuquerque seemed impossible at this point even though the bats had yet to fly.

They took seats near the front of the amphitheater, their phones safely tucked back in the car to try and abide by the no phones or food policy for the viewing. Ilya was disappointed at first about not being able to take photos of the promised millions of bats, but Shane reminded him that his diary was in his backpack—maybe he could put all those drawing lessons that Luca gave him to good use. His husband took him up on that and eagerly sat in his seat, pen and paper in hand, looking around to see if a bat was flying or if the presenter was about to come on stage to start spitting out bat facts.

As they waited for the ranger to set up, Ilya reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. Shane laughed. The Mexican Jumping Bean. Ilya shook the box.

“Do you really think this thing jumps?” Ilya asked as he gave it a gentle shake and began to read the instructions. “It says I just need to take it out of the box and watch…”

”Sounds like you need to take it out of the box.” Shane mused as he watched his husband try to peel back the packaging to reveal a few brown beans.

Ilya held them in his hand and watched, waiting for them to jump. One began to wiggle slightly, then another. One rolled half a centimeter across his hand.

“Wow…” Shane remarked, watching the half-hearted wiggling. “Great use of $10 there, Ilya.”

Ilya shot Shane a warning glare with his eyes, with his lips curved slightly into a smile. “Yes, very good use. They are so jumpy.” His husband grumbled as he placed the beans back in their box and listened to them move around. “Yes, very jumpy.”

Shane began to laugh loudly when the woman behind harshly shushed them, and Shane hunkered his shoulders. The ranger hadn’t even started yet…

When the ranger did begin the presentation, Shane marvelled at how quiet the audience became—apparently the audience was very keen on learning bat facts. Shane found that partially interesting but found himself looking at Ilya for the first part of the talk, watching as his hand moved quickly across the paper making a crude sketch of the ranger and the cave behind her. His husband couldn’t be called a great artist, but his lessons with Luca seemed to have definitely paid off and his sketch was far better than the crude stick figures that Shane himself was capable of.

The ranger first started discussing how to tell these Mexican Free-Tailed bats from other bats and it was apparently because their tail extended beyond their flight membrane. ‘Or in laymen’s terms, their butts,’ the ranger deadpanned much to the chagrin of the audience…and Ilya.

“Butt bats.” Ilya laughed to himself as he continued his sketch.

As the hour crept on with no bats flying, the ranger’s presentation began to get a bit more desperate discussing the bat facts from how fast they could fly, ‘over 100mph’ or whatever that translated to in kilometers. Shane should have paid more attention in secondary school. By the ninety minute mark, there were still no bats and Shane was officially beginning to fidget on the hard stone seat. Ilya had taken out the box of Mexican jumping beans and was showing it to the kids next to him. Moving beans was certainly more interesting than the ranger’s droll on echolocation for fifteen minutes.

Two hours in, the sky was growing steadily darker and Shane had officially crossed the threshold of being beyond bored. If Ilya’s sighs were any sign, so was he. Try as his husband might to be still and silent, he was now making a square of dots in his journal and then handing it to the little girl next to him to play Squares.

Shane sighed and leaned over to whisper to Ilya. “Maybe the bats are having a meeting.”

”And what are they discussing?”

”Bat business, obviously. The price of guano, how much money can be made off of Batman. Can they get the licensing rights for Robin? Important bat things.”

”Ah, sounds complicated. They must have a lot of documents to run through for licensing.” Ilya said as he let the little girl take over half of the game he made for them.

“Yeah, but some say the bats just wing it.”

Ilya turned to Shane, his eyes dull but his mouth turned into a crooked grin. “That was terrible, moya lyubov. Is your wit faster than the bat?”

Shane gently punched Ilya in the shoulder and his husband turned back to the game with his neighbor. Then Shane saw it. A tiny bit flittered out of the cave and fly upwards. Then another. And another.

Then a massive swarm of black spiraled out of the cave, the bats flying in a fast circle upwards. The sky was completely filled with bats. Shane had never seen anything like it.

“Wow…” was all he managed to get out as the bats squeaked above them. He wished he had been able to take a picture of this. It was extraordinary. The last two hours of boredom were worth it.

Ilya’s hands were working fast on the paper as he kept looking up at the bats, watching as they swarmed and called to each other. His face was set in a wide grin, the boredom held in his eyes completely gone. Shane knew then that the two hours was worth it for him, too.

As the bats quickly made their way away from the cave, the audience stood hastily to leave. It was clear that while the bats had proved to be the spectacle promised, no one was keen on driving on desert roads in the quickly dimming sky. But Ilya sat, still sketching, trying to eek out every last memory as lone bats continued to flit out of the cave. He looked up at Shane and smiled.

Shane would do anything to see that smile every day.

Chapter End Notes

Where will the rest of their journey take them?

Kudos or comment if you’re enjoying~

Chapter 11: Day 11 - Destination: Albuquerque

Chapter Summary

As travel fatigue finally catches up with them, an unexpected change of plans forces Shane to reconsider what makes a vacation worth remembering.

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: Change by Big Thief

And now for some action ;)

Shane groaned as the alarm blared in the background, absentmindedly trying to find his phone. Ilya was pressed tight against and was unmoving as Shane continued his search while the phone beeped again and again.

“Turn it off.” Ilya mumbled into Shane’s shoulder.

“I’m trying, but you’re laying on top of me.” Shane tried to push Ilya off again and heard a distinct sound of flesh hitting metal.

”Ow! What the fuck, Hollander?” Ilya tried to pull off of him and rubbed his elbow that had apparently banged into the side of the bus. “There is nowhere for me to move!”
Shane grumbled and pushed back on Ilya, but his husband was right—there really wasn’t any room. When they got to their bus last night, they were bone tired and were quickly disappointed to find that the “spacious” bus was anything but spacious. Everything seemed to be made for someone half of their size.

The “large” bed turned out to be a twin bed pushed against the wall of that bus and had no intention of holding two former MLH champions. Ilya had initially offered to sleep on the floor but Shane would hear none of it. That left them where they were now, crushed together while blindly searching for Shane’s phone. Not much point finding it now, Shane thought. He was wide awake at this point as was Ilya, still nursing his sore elbow.

Shane rose and made his way to the bathroom; he had been in it last night, but he was so exhausted and it was so dark, he really hadn’t had the chance to take it in. The bathroom was…tiny. Shane stared at the “shower made for two” as he pissed. He cocked his head. How on earth was even one person supposed to fit in that thing, much less two?

Trying not to think about how he himself would fit into the shower, Shane began to brush his teeth and started his morning routine. He made quick work of washing his face and then put on a bit of lotion before he would go outside to do some body weight training. Then—

”Hey!” Ilya pounded on the door. “Hurry up! Other people need to pee, too.”

Shane finished up and washed his hands. Ilya pushed past him the second he opened the door and didn’t even wait for Shane to get out of the bathroom.

”Jesus, Ilya. Couldn’t you wait for five seconds?” Shane shut the door behind him.

“No waiting. Needed to piss all night.” Ilya practically moaned as he talked. “You blocked me in against the wall. Was bursting when we woke up. Sorry…”

Shane was already half changed into his workout clothes by the time Ilya came out of the bathroom, face washed and teeth brushed. Ilya stared at Shane’s shirtless body and licked his lips.

“Mmm, maybe we do different exercise this morning.” Ilya said, circling Shane like he was his prey.

“Oh?” Shane asked coyly. “What do you have in mind?”

”On the bed.” Ilya commanded, pointing Shane to the tiny twin bed with rumpled sheets.

Shane sat on the edge bed, leaning backwards and spreading his legs, letting his tiny shorts ride dangerously high. Ilya’s breath hitched as Shane snaked his hand down his chest, fingers strumming across his abs, before settling on the waistband of his shorts.

“Take off your pants.” Ilya told him, taking a few steps back before leaning against the dresser on the opposite wall.

Obeying, Shane tucked his thumb down into his pants, slowly pushing them down his hips until his cock sprang free. He heard Ilya swallow across from him. Shane’s mouth twitched into a smile as he reached his hand around his already rock hard length.

“Did I say you could touch your dick yet?” Ilya told him, his voice gruff as he looked at Shane like a meal. Shane removed his hand. “Good boy.” Ilya whispered. “Fondle your balls.”

Shane closed his eyes and snaked his hand further south, gasping as he shamelessly began to play with his balls. He took his time, rolling each orb delicately between his fingers, letting out a low moan as he tugged on them just enough. Ilya shifted against the dresser. He wondered how long Ilya would be able to hold out. How long would he be able to hold out?

An involuntary gasp left his mouth as Shane tugged on his balls again, running his finger along the seam. His legs were beginning to shake.

“You like that, moy lyubimyy?” Ilya seemed to ask through clenched teeth, his breath hitching.

All Shane could do was nod as he continued to fondle himself. A spurt of precum dripped from the head of his cock as he gave his balls another tug. Shane looked up at Ilya, his eyes desperate for his husband to come over and touch him. But Ilya stood there, his body comfortably leaning against the dress. The Russian man looked like he was in no hurry to come over despite the large tent in his briefs.

”Play with your nipples.” Ilya said, his arms moving to his side so that he could grip the edge of the dresser.

Shane’s hands trembled as he moved them away from his balls to come up and start torturing the sensitive brown nibs on his chest. He whined, missing the feel of his hands on his balls, but his cock disagreed, letting out another spurt of precum. He was leaking like a faucet.

“No no no.” Ilya tsked at him. “I did not say to stop fondling your balls. You have two hands, yes?”

Fuck. Shane reach back down with his right hand to give his balls attention again, his left still playing with his nipple. His legs were trembling now. The stimulation of his nipples and his balls was beginning to be too much. God, it would be embarrassing for him to shoot without even touching his cock. Without Ilya touching him.

“Da, like that Hollander. Keep going.” Ilya’s eyes narrowed on Shane’s hand on his balls.

Shane moaned loudly, feeling the heat of Ilya’s gaze. “Ilya…” His voice was so shaky.

“Yes?” Ilya hummed, a crooked and wild grin plastered across his face.

“Please,” Shane whispered, giving his left nipple a hard pinch and letting out a wild yelp. “Please.” He repeated.

“Please what?” Ilya growled.

Shane gave his balls another tug and threw his head back in a shameless pleasure. His cock twitched. Fuck he was close.

“Please.” Shane begged. “Please touch me.”

Ilya licked his lips as Shane caught his eyes. Shane’s entire body was trembling as he continued to play with his nipple and balls. Slowly, his husband walked over. Shane’s hands stopped moving as Ilya gently pushed him down on the bed, his legs still hanging off the edge.

“Touch you where?” Ilya breathed into Shane’s neck, inhaling deeply but not touching him anywhere.

“I’m dying.” Shane managed to croak out, feeling Ilya’s breath hot on his neck.

“Mmm, yes. I can tell. But where am I supposed to touch my husband to keep him from dying?” Ilya’s mouth hovered over his ear. He could feel his husband’s breath tickling the hair around it.

“My—my dick.” Shane managed to get out as Ilya gently suckled his earlobe. God, that almost made him come right there.

“Ah,” Ilya pulled away and smiled wickedly at Shane. “It does seem very neglected. Maybe I will help.”

Ilya sank to the floor, his mouth hovering over Shane’s leaking cock. Thank Christ. The Russian then took Shane’s legs and hitched them over his shoulders, raising Shane’s ass as he sank lower. Oh fuck.

Shane wanted to be embarrassed. He hadn’t showered since leaving Fort Davis the morning before, but Ilya groaned loudly as he placed the first firm lick across Shane’s hole. Oh fuck. Ilya continued his ministrations, tonguing firmly at Shane’s entrance until he was whimpering. His entire body trembled as Ilya got his tongue inside and began to fuck him with it in earnest. Oh fuck, he was gonna come.

“Ilya, st—stop. Pl-please.” Shane stuttered and pushed back on Ilya’s head. This isn’t how he wanted to come. He needed his husband to touch him. Be inside of him. Anything to get him to touch his dick.

Ilya pulled away with a loud groan, clearly disappointed that he couldn’t live there for the morning. “Need something more?” His husband asked as he nipped at the tender flesh of Shane’s inner thighs.

“Yes, fuck, yes please!”

Shane watched as Ilya stood and walked towards their backpacks. He watched those broad shoulders as Ilya dug through the bags until he found the lube and sauntered back over. Shane drooled as he looked at Ilya’s cock, hard as hell and barely contained within his briefs. He wanted to nuzzle it. Take it deep within his throat until he choked and then let Ilya come down it. Fuck. Shane’s cock twitched again.

Ilya sank back to his knees and opened the cap, pouring a generous portion amount on his fingers before he leaned forward, his lips hovering near Shane’s. Did Shane care where Ilya’s mouth had just been? No. Shane crashed their mouths together, his hand gripping the back of Ilya’s head hard, fingers wrapping themselves in his loose curls. God he loved how Ilya tasted. But his husband didn’t let him stay for long and pulled away. Shane whined.

“So impatient, my little slut.” Ilya whispered as he went back down between Shane’s legs.

Yes, Shane was impatient. He groaned far too loudly as he felt Ilya’s slicked finger slide within him. Technically, he should be more quiet. This was just a bus afterall and there were other RVs around them. Shane didn’t care as Ilya pressed against his prostate with deadly precision and let out a yelp.

“Look at you.” Ilya said as he added a second finger, pulling another loud whimper out of Shane. “Such a greedy little hole swallowing my fingers. And this poor, useless cock. Never used and just sitting here dripping wet like a girl.” Ilya leaned over and swiped his tongue across the tip.

Shane gripped the sheets until his knuckles turned white, letting out a shout and trying not to come as Ilya worked his tongue around Shane’s swollen and red head.

“Mmm,” Ilya said as he pulled back, licking his lips. “I could probably just make you come like this. Just a little kiss on your dick and—“ Ilya thrust his fingers deep within Shane, rubbing and rolling against his prostate.

Oh God, Shane was gonna come. He couldn’t stop it anymore. Ilya could see Shane’s thighs tremble with exertion, fighting his orgasm hard. His husband dove back down, taking him deep within his throat and swallowing around. Ilya’s fingers continued to apply pressure, his two fingers rolling around the nub inside of him. Holy fuck, what was Ilya doing with his fingers. It felt so good. Too good.

Shane screamed as his orgasm ripped through him. Ilya held him down, his mouth still working around him, trying to swallow every last drop as his fingers slowed their relentless attack. He was barely aware that Ilya had removed his fingers until he opened his eyes and saw his husband pulling down his briefs, his dick impossibly hard. Shane, still hazy from his own orgasm, licked his lips as he saw Ilya’s bright red head peek out of his foreskin. God, would Ilya let him taste it?

Ilya seemed to have other plans and began to roughly work himself in his hand, staring at Shane’s spent cock. He grabbed Shane’s legs and pulled them apart, trying to get him to raise his ass again.

”Show me your pretty little hole.” Ilya gasped as he worked his dick faster.

Shane obeyed, raising his ass and pulling his cheeks apart, putting himself on full display for his husband. Ilya groaned and worked his hand faster, calling Shane his perfect little slut, his beautiful whore, just his, only his. His English became garbled, then his Russian.

“Fuuuuuck, Shane.” Ilya cried out as he spilled all over his hand, gripping Shane’s leg with a vice grip.

The two stayed there for a moment, both panting and covered in cum. Ilya was pressing gentle kisses on Shane’ ankle as he removed his hands from spreading his cheeks and lowered his ass back down onto the bed. Ilya began to giggle as he kept pressing kisses on Shane’s ankle, his smile wide and his eyes bright.

“Good morning exercise, yes?” Ilya laughed out as he leaned down to kiss Shane again. Shane welcomed him wholly. “Now,” Ilya said as he pressed kisses onto Shane’s neck. “Let’s figure out how to get that shower to fit two people.”

———

“King bed!” Ilya exclaimed with glee as he threw himself down on the bed of their hotel in Albuquerque.

It was just past lunch time and Shane was already exhausted. They had spent their morning slowly driving to Albuquerque and decided to make an unfortunate pitstop in Roswell. Even though neither believed in aliens, both were thrilled at first with the novelty of it. But a plate of sad and soggy alien-shaped waffles plus the same tourist items in every store killed any buzz they had. It did not, however, stop Ilya from buying four separate alien pun shirts, including the one he was wearing right now which featured a floating rainbow alien cat saying “Zero Gravity. Maximum Sass.”

“I still can’t believe you bought that shirt.” Shane grumbled as he sorted through their growing collection of souvenirs that needed to be mailed back to Ottawa.

“Is funny. I needed it. This shirt can be the cat you’ve always wanted.” Ilya retorted, his eyes now closed and looking like he was about to fall asleep.

“Did you need to buy four?”

”They were on sale. It would not make economic sense to buy less.” Ilya was definitely falling asleep as half of his words came out as a mumble.

“Clearance, Ilya, not just sale.” Shane sat next to his near comatose husband and shook him. “Hey, come on. No napping. I want to check out the Indian Pueblo Cultural Center.’

”Five minutes.”

Ilya’s definition of five minutes was about the same as his definition of good economic decisions and after forty five minutes of listening to his husband snore, Shane decided that enough was enough and he would explore the city while waiting for Ilya to wake up. It was some hours later and Shane was thoroughly enjoying a glass of champagne while browsing a gallery featuring southwestern art when Ilya finally called and asked him where he was. The Russian stumbled into the gallery sheepishly just as Shane was buying a particularly stunning modern painting of a plateau at sunset—Shane could already see the piece hanging in the living room of their cottage.

“Oh, so I buy four shirts for $20 and I’m wasting money, but you buy $5,000 painting plus shipping and that is not a waste?” Ilya huffed as they walked out of the gallery.

“One of those things is art. The other belongs in the trash.” Shane said as he linked their fingers together.

“Yes, clearly my shirts are the art. I know Harris will love his.”

The two wandered a bit before they walked past a local brewery and Ilya begged Shane to go there for an early dinner. Shane wanted to say they had reservations for a steak house that night that was neatly tucked away in the bind—google sheet, but he couldn’t resist Ilya’s puppy dog eyes. And the beer, to Ilya’s credit, was truly spectacular. They ended up walking away full to the brim of “Christmas enchiladas” and with two six-packs of the craft beer.

Returning to their room, the sun was just beginning to set, meaning the night was young and it was a Saturday. But Shane could barely move his body after he threw himself on to the large, plush king bed. He watched out of the corner of his eye Ilya peeling off his shirt, sticky with the dry desert heat. His husband had no right to look as good as he did when he was hot and sweaty. Shane closed his eyes and tried to ward off the thought of licking the sweat off if Ilya’s body—the desire was there but his body…

“Comfortable, isn’t it?” Ilya quipped as Shane heard him put the beer in the fridge.

“I’m beat.” Shane said it before he could stop himself.

Shane felt the bed depress next to him and opened his eyes. Ilya was staring down at him with those beautiful blue and loving eyes. Shane reached out to stroke his husband’s cheek, practically purring as Ilya placed his hand over Shane’s.

“You look exhausted, Shane.”

It was a matter of fact statement and Shane couldn’t deny it. He truly was exhausted. They had been on the road for eleven days now and that constant moving energy seemed to be hitting him like a brick at this moment. Shane wasn’t sure he’d be able to crawl his way up to the pillow, much less change into his pajamas. He sighed. Tomorrow was another drive up to Santa Fe. Only a two hour drive, but it meant changing hotels again. Packing up their things again. Driving again. Fuck he was exhausted.

“No, just tired. Give me five minutes and then I can get up. Maybe we can go to one of those country dance bars that was in the binder.” Shane muttered, trying to keep his eyes open.

“Another drive tomorrow,” mused Ilya. “Early night would be good probably.”

Shane didn’t want to give up that easily. It was their first true, long vacation. Ever. He could rally. He wasn’t forty. Yet.

”No, I’m serious. Just give me five minutes. I know you want to go dancing. You even highlighted it in the google sheet.”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “Shane, you yawned as you said this to me. Go to bed early tonight. We have another long day tomorrow.”

Shane groaned. He was sick of long days. But there was so much to do. But maybe tonight, he could just…sleep?

———

Light poured in through the window and Shane shot up from bed. He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes and his legs were half off the bed just like they had been last night. Fuck, he hadn’t moved at all. He looked around. Ilya’s side of the bed was clearly slept in but his husband was nowhere to be found.

It was thirty minutes later that Shane emerged from the shower, toweling his hair, that he found Ilya standing by the window, sweaty in his running clothes and chugging a Gatorade. Shane cleared his throat and Ilya whipped around, smiling at the sight before him.

“Good morning, moya lyubov. Did you sleep well?” Ilya asked as he walked over and placed a quick peck on Shane’s cheek.

“Ugh, gross. I just showered and you’re all sweaty.” Shane didn’t actually want Ilya to move away, but he did enjoy putting up the fake fight.

“Mmm, but you looooove me when I am all sweaty like this. How many times have you said you would lick the sweat off my body after a match.” Ilya’s mouth hovered over Shane’s ear.

Fuck. Ilya was right. And Shane’s body was responding in exactly the way his husband wanted based on the wicked grin he could now see plastered across Ilya’s face.

“No time this morning.” Shane pushed past Ilya and began to repack their clothes. “Go shower. We need to get on the road to Santa Fe.” Ilya hummed and sauntered back over to Shane, pressing his sweaty chest against Shane’s clean back. “Ugh, you animal get off or I’ll need to shower again.”

”Then join me.” Ilya nipped at Shane’s ear.

“Ilya, please.” Shane was exasperated. Why was his husband like this sometimes. “Stop playing, go get in the shower. We need to go, we’re already over an hour behind schedule because a certain someone decided they needed to go on an extra long run.”

”Oh, so now you’re punishing me because I am a professional athlete who likes to exercise?” Ilya pulled at Shane and turned him so that he was facing the Russian man.

“Former professional athlete. And yes I am because now we’re off schedule.” Shane pushed Ilya away and turned back to packing.

“Shane, stop packing.”

”No.”

”Stop packing.”

”Is that a command?” Shane whipped his head around, venom in his voice.

Ilya sighed and sat on the bed, staring out the window. After a few moments, he turned to look back at Shane.

“No, was not a command.” Ilya said, his fingers playing with the rumbled bedding. “But there is no need to pack. I cancelled our reservations in Santa Fe and extended our stay in here when you passed out on the bed last night.”

”You WHAT?!” Shane tried not to shout. He failed.

“I cancelled our reservations in Santa Fe.” Ilya said calmly.

Shane couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Ilya, his husband, CANCELLED two nights of their trip to stay in…Albuqueque? He couldn’t believe it. What the actual hell was Ilya thinking. They had a vacation plan!

”You can’t be serious.” It was all Shane could think of saying.

“Very.” Ilya looked Shane in the eyes and leaned back on the bed.

This man…Shane was going to kill him one of these days. Ilya didn’t even ask him! They had reservations for a private wine tasting there this afternoon. They were going to go antique shopping tomorrow. Then they were driving to Flagstaff. That was the plan!

”Shane, you think so loud.” Ilya smirked as he continued to stare at Shane who hadn’t moved an inch since Ilya revealed that he just RUINED part of their vacation.

“Ilya…how—how could you? I was looking forward to Santa Fe…” Shane was exasperated. He didn’t know what else to say.

“And you are exhausted. You fell asleep in your clothes last night with your legs hanging off the bed. You did not hear me when I left the room to go to the hotel bar. You did not even move when i came back to the room a few hours later to go to sleep. You did not move all night!”

”Ok, so I was a bit tired yesterday. So what? That doesn’t give you the right to just change the plan without telling me.”

“Shane,” Ilya sighed and rubbed his forehead. “You know, I am exhausted, too. We have not stopped this whole trip. It is go go go. I feel like we have been on an extended away game trip. Santa Fe is just another city. We can always come back. Let’s rest today and tomorrow. Then we will be ready for a long drive to Flagstaff and then some good hiking in the Grand Canyon. I think this is better plan than packing and unpacking, driving and driving some more.”

”You didn’t ask me.”

”No, I didn’t. I made, how you say, executive decision.” Ilya twirled his finger in the air, clearly proud of himself for remembering the English idiom.

“That wasn’t your decision to make!”

”Oh, so I am not allowed to make decisions on this trip?” Ilya glared at him.

Shane’s shoulders slumped. He really had been looking forward to Santa Fe. For Ilya to just cancel it…

”You are angry.” Ilya said, looking at Shane baring his soul.

“No I’m not.”

”Yes, you are.”

”No. I’m. Not.” Shane huffed. Fuck Ilya and his stupid plan. To not even consult him?

”Sweetheart,” Ilya stood and walked over to Shane, placing his hands on Shane’s shoulders. “Please do not be upset. Is good for us and you know it. Now stop pouting, come join me in the shower where I will give you best blowjob of your life, and then we will go explore the art galleries. Maybe it will be my turn to buy overpriced southwestern art that will clash with our Canadian aesthetic.”

Shane glared at him. He was furious but Ilya was right even though he shouldn’t be. Falling asleep in his clothes and not even fully in the bed should be proof of that. Not that he would ever admit it. Shane looked up at Ilya who was grinning from ear to ear. His husband knew he was right.

God damn it.

“Ilya.”

”Hm?” Ilya traced his thumb across Shane’s freckles.

“How are you sure it will be the best blowjob of my life? Yesterday’s was…wow…And others…”

”Yesterday’s was barely blowjob.” Ilya waved his hand, shooing off Shane’s notion. “Besides, it is always good to have goals.”

Shane laughed and rested his head against Ilya’s chest. Yes, it was always good to have goals.

———

Albuquerque was…beautiful. As the two packed their freshly laundered clothes, Shane listened to Ilya sing a Russian song and tried to hum along with it. Both were feeling particularly rubbery after a fantastic couples massage that morning. Exactly what they needed before a near six hour drive, Ilya had said as they left the spa. Shane did agree in a grumbling way. The massage was great, but it also put them two hours behind and now they wouldn’t be arriving at their private cabin in Flagstaff until evening. But Ilya was singing and it was all he wanted to listen to.

Ilya had been right about cancelling Santa Fe, not that Shane would give him the satisfaction of knowing that. He had continuously pestered Ilya about it the last couple of days but every time Ilya took him to a new museum or a new gallery or an off the beaten path bookstore, Shane could only go along and smile. It had been a beautiful time, even with the July heat baking them.

Shane watched as Ilya shuffled throughout the room, still singing, feet moving with precision. He chuckled—his husband was definitely practicing the line dance he had learned on Monday night. Shane had wanted to be jealous of the woman who came up and flirted with Ilya, who had returned the flirtation in kind. But Shane could see the playful shine in Ilya’s eye and knew it was all for show. The woman didn’t even mind when Shane introduced himself as Ilya’s husband and then begged Shane to let her steal his husband for at least one dance. That dance turned into five and then a line dance. At that point, the woman and Ilya dragged Shane to the floor and tried to get him to learn the choreography with them. It had failed. Miserably. But Ilya was laughing and smiling the whole time and consumed Shane wholly the moment they got back into the room.

Ilya had even convinced Shane to buy more art. The artisans market they wandered into on Sunday had proved to be a delight and Shane had to talk himself out of multiple purchases (though Ilya did convince him that kettle corn was a necessity). It was when Ilya found a “masterpiece” and nearly bought it on the spot before he pulled Shane over to examine the great find. The painting was of a dog who looked eerily similar to Anya and was squatting over the Russian flag. Pooping.

The two had a back and forth for sometime and Shane even made a point of walking away. There was no way a dog shitting on a flag would be displayed in either of their homes. Yet…Ilya was relentless…and charming. And as they made their way around the festival a second time, Shane relented and let Ilya purchase the painting.

“This is going behind my desk in my office so everyone can see it on my video calls.” Ilya had said gleefully as he arranged shipping back to Ottawa with the artist. In no way would Shane ever allow that to be Ilya’s can’t background, but that would be a fight for another day.

With the last of their clothes packed, Ilya sang out the last Russian word to his song. He turned to Shane and pulled him into a deep hug, breathing deeply as if trying to capture the very essence of Shane. Shane melted.

“You ready to be my passenger princess to Flagstaff.” Ilya asked, his lips brushing Shane’s neck causing him to shiver.

Shane pushed his husband away, unwilling to let their departure be delayed further no matter how amazing Ilya’s lips felt on Shane’s next. He nodded to Ilya. It would be a long day of driving ahead. Shane was ready.

Chapter End Notes

In good news, half of Ch. 12 is already written~

Comment or leave Kudos if you’ve been enjoying this journey :)

Chapter 12: Day 14 - Grand Canyon

Chapter Summary

A sunrise over the Grand Canyon puts life into perspective, while an evening beneath the stars reminds Shane and Ilya why the future they're building together is worth every uncertain step.

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: Honeycomb by Syd Taylor

Had half of this chapter written and then scrapped the first half four separate times. Sorry for the delay.

Shane felt that he should have been far more exhausted than he was for 5AM, especially considering they had awoken over an hour before. But here they were, chipper and briskly hiking down towards the Ooh Aah Point to catch a picture of the sunrise. Even Ilya had been easy to wake up just past three—the sunrise hike had been his idea after all.

Ever the planner for this trip, Shane had thought of temperature in Canadian terms; he was wholly unprepared for the mighty July heat of American deserts. Thus when Shane was reviewing their Grand Canyon itinerary in their google sheet, he realized that fatal flaw—temperatures would be exceeding 30C the day they planned to visit the canyon.

Discussing their options on their way to their private cabin in the small town of Tusayan, they wavered between skipping the Grand Canyon and changing their reservation to a nice hotel in Flagstaff or merely visiting the Visitor’s Center and looking over the rim. Both were dejected as they had looked forward to a long hike but days in the Davis Mountains of Texas had taught Shane that heat was nothing to be trifled with.

After a particularly bland late lunch at a gas station diner halfway to Tusayan, it was Ilya who suggested perhaps taking an early morning hike before the heat of the day hit. Even better, he said, perhaps try to catch the sunrise and take an incredibly romantic and cheesy picture together. Shane was sold immediately, mostly on the hike part. Maybe a bit on the cheesy picture part.

What Ilya did not anticipate was that sunrise would be before 5:30 in the morning, meaning they would need to begin their hike at close to 4AM. Which meant, Shane said solemnly, they would need to be awake and on the road no later than 3:30. Ilya’s eyes had narrowed at this suggestion, but as he continued to chew his dry turkey sandwich, he relented. It was an early morning hike at the one of the natural wonders of the world or no hike at all.

As they made their way briskly down the trail, Shane was thankful for the headlamps he thought of buying when they stopped to buy water. He also kicked himself for being a terrible planner and not thinking of things like summer. And heat. This hike would be much better if they could actually see the canyon around them. The morning light was just beginning to peak out and soften the skies, and Ilya, already a few meters ahead of him, began to quicken his pace.

“Ilya, slow down!” Shane called out while trying to keep up with his husband without tripping on the dark trail.

“So slow, Hollander. Hurry up or we will miss chance for me to give you big kiss when the sun comes up. I did not wake up before 4AM after retiring from hockey to miss nice romantic photo because my husband is too slow.” Ilya huffed ahead. “Ah, there it is! People are already there.”

Shane shook his head, trying to imagine Ilya’s look of disappointment realizing that other people wanted sunrise photos, too. Admittedly, Shane had wanted the sunrise to themselves but knew in his heart that they couldn’t be the only ones with the genius idea to beat the heat. Maybe they were poor planners, too.

“Wow.” It was all Shane could get out when he reached the point, Ilya already there and catching his breath.

Ilya’s eyes were wide and his lips locked in a wide smile. He turned to look at Shane and gestured widely—the view was…indescribable. Even though the sun’s rays had yet to peak over the canyon walls, the sky had lightened consideribly, showing deep chasms within the earth as far as the eye could see.

Shane suddenly felt very small.

The two stood there for a few minutes with the handful of other hikers, each eagerly awaiting for the sun to come up. Any second now. Shane couldn’t even hear the breaths of the other hikers, all eagerly awaiting the first true rays of light.

“Wow…” Ilya gasped as the first peaked over the eastern sky.

Suddenly, Shane understood the Greeks and Helios riding across the sky in his chariot, pulling the sun behind him. Only a God could create this view.

Shane felt Ilya’s fingers graze his. He flinched at first, not knowing their surrounding, but suddenly just didn’t care. Who would be watching anything else than a god present itself on the horizon?

Soon, they realized they were supposed to be taking pictures, and Ilya hugged Shane close and snapped several together before they traded his phone back and forth taking solo pictures of each other. Then Ilya asked one of the hikers to take a picture of the two of them together and the man gladly agreed. Shane froze when Ilya kiss him on the lips with a wide smile but quickly melted into it, feeling Ilya’s hand firmly on the small of his back pulling him closer.

“That’s gonna be a keeper!” The man said as he handed Ilya back his phone but not before asking if Ilya could take a few with him and his girlfriend.

Ilya hugged Shane close as they watched the sun continue to rise and Shane found himself resting his head on Ilya’s shoulder. What a beautiful morning.

“You ready to start back up, sweetheart?” Ilya asked pressing his nose into Shane’s hair and pulling him even closer.

Shane looked up and smiled, grabbing Ilya’s hand for a brief moment before they began their slow journey upwards. It felt odd to slowly meander their way back up the trail when they had rushed down so quickly, but Shane wanted to savor every second.

Ahead of them, a small family was making their way down. Shane smiled, impressed that the parents had been able to get their small children to go on a hike that early in the morning. The family even seemed jovial, the father laughing with his son, his arm gently draped over the little boy’s should.

How cute, Shane thought. The little boy had his father’s hair.

———

“Woah woah woah.” Shane heard Ilya say as he rummaged through his bag looking for a set of clean clothes.

“Hm?”

Maybe Ilya was out of clothes? They had just laundered their clothes the other day in Albuquerque. Was he already somehow out? Shane didn’t want to think about where the closest laundromat was. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he knew how to use a laundromat—Shane had never been to one before.

“Looks like our friends from Fort Davis left us a treat.” Ilya hummed as he showed Shane a plain envelope with ‘❤️S&M’ written on the front. “Note says, ‘Thank you for having us. It was a lovely evening. Call us next time you’re making your way through the Davis Mountains. Maybe this parting gift will entice y’all back’. And inside…”

Ilya then pulled a thick joint. He gave a big whiff and smiled devilishly at Shane. All Shane could do was roll his eyes and go back to brushing his teeth.

“Sweetheart,” Ilya pressed himself against Shane, leaning down to brush his lips against the nape of Shane’s neck. “Come get high with me. There is a rocking swing on the porch and the night sky is beautiful. We can enjoy this private cabin that we paid so much for.”

“You get high. I’ll just sit on the porch with you. Maybe drink one of the beers from the brewery in Albuquerque.” Shane swatted Ilya away and went back to brushing his teeth, watching as Ilya sulked and put the joint back in the envelope and then tucked it inside of his backpack.

It wasn’t that Shane didn’t want to get high. He had to admit, the weed that Melissa grew was spectacular…at least given Shane’s limited experience. Shane barely needed two hands to count the number of times he had gotten high. Weed usually gave him anxiety and the fact that it relaxed him so much in Fort Davis was shocking to him. Shane wanted to focus on enjoying his husband tonight on what had been a perfect day in Shane’s honest opinion—weed-induced anxiety did not seem the note he wanted to end the day on.

Ilya skulked out of the bedroom, Shane listened to him rumble around the small kitchen, hearing the telltale sound of a beer bottle being opened. Now he was wishing he hadn’t just brushed his teeth. Leaving the bathroom, Shane walked over to Ilya’s backpack and pulled out the envelope and opened it up. It was a huge joint. Shane lifted it to his nose. It smelled nice…or at least as nice as weed could smell with its deep undercurrent of funk.

The door to their cabin opened and Shane heard Ilya patter outside, leaving the door open behind him making it clear he wanted Shane out there with him. Shane looked at the joint again.

Fuck it. They were on vacation. He also grabbed and opened another bottle of beer.

Walking outside, Shane waved the joint in front of Ilya. His husband smiled and snatched it from his hand. “Thank you,” he said. “But I do not want to smoke alone. If you do not want to smoke, let’s just sit here, drink our craft beer that we spent too much money on, and enjoy this evening. Good plan, yes?”

”Good plan, yes. Better if we smoke this. It felt good the other night.” Shane played with the hem of his shirt as Ilya smirked up at him. The Russian man playfully reached out and thumbed at Shane’s shirt causing him to shiver ever so slightly. Ilya’s grin grew.

”Ok.” Ilya pulled his hand back, and Shane bit back a whine. “Do you have a lighter?”

Fuck. No. Why would he have a lighter? Neither smoked (though Shane knew Ilya hid a pack of emergency cigarettes in the junk drawer of the garage) and neither had any idea that Sandra and Melissa would have left them a party favor.

Ilya squinted his eyes and stared at the joint. Suddenly, his expression lit up and he ran back inside to the kitchenette where he turned on the burner to heat the metal coil. Once the coil was near red with heat, Ilya placed the joint on the burner and then took a few puffs before he got it to light and ran back outside. Shane laughed.

Only Ilya.

His husband was smirking as he sat back down on the swing and took a long satisfied drag on the joint. Shane suddenly felt awkward, still standing and his fingers still playing with the hem of his shirt while he watched Ilya take another large hit. Ilya looked up at him and motioned for Shane to join him on the swing before handing him the joint. Shane cautiously took a small hit—he wanted to be buzzed, not baked.

The two sat and passed the joint for a few rounds until Ilya’s eyes had begun to narrow and Shane was feeling fully floaty. He watched as Ilya put the remainder of the joint out in his hand, astonished that such a thing was even possible.

“Where did you learn those tricks?” Shane asked as Ilya sat back on the swing and pulled him close so that Shane’s head was resting on the Russian man’s shoulder.

“What trick?” Ilya hummed as he began to gently rock the swing.

“Tricks. You know, the one just now with the hand thing and then the stove thing.” Shane motioned largely with his hands. Woah, those hands were moving fast.

“Hand thing and stove thing?” Ilya looked down at Shane with a lopsided grin.

“Don’t be an ass. You know what I mean.”

”You never partied much as a teenager did you?” Ilya chuckled.

“No, not much.” Shane wasn’t disappointed in that. Or maybe he was. Just a little. “My mom caught me with beer when I was sixteen and on a team trip to another providence. By me, I mean me and my three other roommates. We were sharing a six-pack that one of my roommate’s brother bought or something. Was it his brother? Maybe it was his sister? His dad? His—“

”Hollander, is there a point to this?”

“Sorry.” Shane blushed. Fuck, he was high. “Point is, my mom caught us. She was furious. Like, totally blew a gasket in the only way my mom can. You know that really quiet, stern ‘I’m so disappointed in you I can barely speak right now’ voice she uses?”

“Like that time I started a trashcan fire at the cottage because your mom showed up unannounced and I was getting high and threw my lit joint into the trashcan and did not want your mom to know that I get high every day of the offseason?”

”Oooooooh, that was a bad one. I think I actually saw her eye twitch that day.” Shane giggled. Ilya laughed back. That really had been a day.

“Anyway.” Shane continued. “She used that voice on me and then made me sleep in the same room with the other chaperones. Then I got too busy trying to become a professional hockey player.”

“And yet you still got drafted second.” Ilya mused, his fingers still running gently through Shane’s hair.

“Dick.” Shane giggled and snuggled deeper into the crux of Ilya’s neck.

Ilya rocked them back and forth while they looked at the stars from the dark porch and began to hum, twirling Shane’s hair between his fingers. Shane tried to place the tune, some Russian lullaby his mother used to sing him most likely—those seemed to be the ones he hummed most.

Shane loved the sound of Ilya’s singing, feeling the vibrations of his deep voice within his chest. But Ilya was like Shane, he wasn’t fond of off showing off his talent. Instead, he liked to sing quiet songs in Russian on nights where Shane needed to hear them most, on nights when Ilya could only think of a home that had disappeared long ago. Shane closed his eyes and listened to his husband’s beautiful voice as he began to add small Russian words to his gentle hums.

There was no man like Ilya. There never would be.

“Does it bother you?” Shane asked, his hand absentmindedly stroking Ilya’s chest. Ilya’s humming stopped.

“Does what bother me, moy lyubimyy?” Ilya pressed a kiss into Shane’s hair.

“That—“ Shane’s breath hitched. “That we can’t have one of yours?”

“What do you mean ‘one of mine’, Shane?” Ilya sighed and paused his hand that had been running through Shane’s hair.

Shane remembered the day as clear as yesterday even though it was almost 2 years ago. They had begun talking seriously about starting a family in the ‘25-‘26 season and realized it meant one, or both, of them retiring. Given that Shane couldn’t get pregnant (despite Ilya’s best efforts), it meant adoption as paid surrogacy was illegal in Canada and Shane couldn’t bear the thought of asking one of his female friends to carry their child for them.

Ilya delighted in the idea of adoption and Shane did too…for a while. They had even begun looking at agencies and hired the family lawyer they were still using today. The process had been…disheartening. Even with both of them retiring, it would mean many years of waiting for ‘ifs’.

The topic of kids died for a while the next season, until during Christmas break, Ilya went a little heavy on the wine and made the drunken confession that children had always been his dream, and his bigger dream was to have kids that had Shane’s eyes and freckles. He wanted his children to have Shane’s goodness and kindness, his intelligence and his wit. He wanted all of that, but it all felt so out of reach. Surrogacy wasn’t an option..

”In Canada.” Shane had said. In America, they could pursue it.

They decided at that moment that this was the path that they wanted to take. They talked to their lawyer and before they knew it, they found an agency for donor eggs. That left the last step—both of them getting tested to ensure virility.

Like most tests in life, Shane aced the test and was proud to find that he was virile. Ilya’s test though…

”What do you mean ‘one of mine’, Shane?” Ilya repeated, placing another gentle kiss on Shane’s head.

“Stop being difficult. You know what I mean.” Shane lifted his head off of Ilya’s shoulder and pulled away, looking into Ilya’s eyes.

Ilya sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Quietly, he got back up to grab the joint and go inside before he returned a few moments later, lit joint in hand. His husband took a long drag on it and rocked the swing again. Another hit. Ilya turned to Shane and offered to pass it, but Shane turned it down. He had smoked enough for the evening. Ilya sighed again before taking another large hit and put out the joint.

“Why are you bringing this up again, sweetheart?” Ilya sighed, looking off into the night sky. “You know how excited I am knowing that our child could have your eyes. Your talent.” Ilya turned back and looked at Shane. He leaned over and stroked the freckles beneath Shane’s eyes. “Your freckles,” Ilya said as he placed a kiss on the right cheek, then left. “Kids…”

Ilya pulled away and made broad gestures with his hands, trying to capture the English words that seemed to be escaping him. “I’m glad I cannot have them, Shane.” Ilya switched to Russian. “I mean this. My blood is…not good for kids. Too many things to pass on.

“When the test said I was infertile, I felt like a weight was lifted off my chest. I knew you wanted to have my kids but I was terrified of passing on my genes. I have my mother’s sickness. I know she did not want to pass it to me. I may have my father’s sickness and may forget our life together. To pass all of that to an innocent child?

”Shane. I cannot. Listening to the doctor apologize to me about my sperm count being so low, I suddenly felt free. I knew then that everything I suffer from cannot be passed down. That made me so happy, Shane. A happiness that I really cannot describe.”

Ilya reached out and grabbed Shane’s hand. His husband kissed each finger and then brought it to his face so that Shane could cradle Ilya’s cheek in his hand. Shane smiled and thumbed at the lazy stubble along his husband’s jaw.

“That happiness,” Ilya continued. “Only grew when I knew our child would be all of you and you’re the best of us.”

”You are so romantic when you speak Russian.” Shane smiled as he continued to stroke the rough stubble along Ilya’s jaw.

Ilya returned the smile and pulled Shane in for a luxurious kiss. The kind of kiss that Shane dreamed about on nights when Ilya wasn’t there. On nights that he was.

“I love you.” Ilya said as he pulled away from the kiss.

“I love you, too.”

Shane stared at Ilya. He would never know a child that would have Ilya’s bright smile or laugh, his vivacious personality, or innate talent in hockey and math. But Ilya saw so much darkness within himself. Shane knew Ilya’s reasoning—he did. Taking a deep breath, Shane swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He wanted to say something more, but he knew…

Ilya didn’t need to live with Shane’s regret—his husband already had more to shoulder than he knew what to do with.

“The best thing about all of this,” said Shane in English, reaching out to take a sip of his now warm beer. “Is that we don’t have to worry about Ilya Jr. suddenly popping up in our lives.”

Ilya barked out laughing and pulled Shane into a tight hug. “I will tell you a secret, Shane. I was always secretly terrified that I had a love child. Now if one ever pops up, we have proof it is not mine!”

Shane laughed with Ilya and curled himself back on to Ilya’s shoulder, nuzzling his face into Ilya’s neck. He could hear his husband purr as Shane inhaled deeply, taking in all Ilya had to offer.

They sat, rocking on the swing until the crescent of the moon was high in the sky and both were fighting back yawns. Ilya was the first to stand, holding out his hand to bring Shane inside and quietly undress him, peppering each piece of uncovered skin with soft kisses.

It was after Ilya had thoroughly taken Shane apart and the two were laying in bed together, limbs tangled together, that Shane began to sing. Just a quiet french song he had heard on the radio not long before they left Ottawa and it had been stuck in his ear ever since. Ilya hummed, clearly enjoying the soft sounds coming from Shane’s voice but unaware of the translation. His husband’s fingers grazed across Shane’s shoulder and his pressed his nose into Shane’s hair, inhaling deeply.

”Shane.” Ilya’s voice was quiet and muffled with his mouth pressed firmly in Shane’s hair.

“Hm?”

”I was thinking—“

”Bad idea.”

”Hush.” Ilya playfully pinched Shane’s arm. “I was thinking maybe we change plans a bit.”

”What do you mean?” Shane removed Ilya’s arm that had been draped over him and sat up, looking at Ilya and his crooked grin.

“Well…maybe instead of going to Salt Lake City, we go through California instead?” Ilya looked up at Shane.

“California? What? No, that wasn’t in the binder. We have reservations for a mountain resort in Salt Lake!”

Ilya sat up and reached out for Shane’s hand. “Shane, there is no more binder! Why keep following it?”

Shane yanked his hand away. Was his husband actually serious? Ilya was staring at him, eyes searching for an answer.

“Why?” Shane finally spoke after a long silence.

“Why what?”

”Why California?”

“Is bucket list thing.” Ilya shrugged, as if an actual bucket list item weren’t a big deal.

”You’ve been to California countless times, Ilya.”

”Yeah, to play hockey. Not so much to visit. Plus…I have always wanted to drive one of my sports cars along the coast on Highway 1. Open roof, ocean on the west, cliffs on the east, breeze running through my hair. Through yours. Has always sounded nice.”

It did sound nice, which Shane hated to admit. And Ilya was also right—there was no more binder. There was still a google sheet…

”It does sound nice, but Ilya, we’ve already changed so much of this trip. Let’s just try to keep to schedule, ok? Maybe next time.” Shane said as he reached out to touch the stubble running across Ilya’s jaw.

“And when will be next time, Shane? We may have a child soon. That is not a trip you take with a small child. So we wait, what? Another twenty years?”

Ilya placed his hand over Shane’s fingers that had been stroking his jaw. He pulled them away and began to kiss each finger. Shane hummed, loving the soft kisses.

“Maybe it won’t be twenty years.” Shane sighed as Ilya began to place soft kisses on his wrist.

“Yes, maybe it will be thirty.” Ilya’s voice was muffled as he worked his way up Shane’s arm.

Ilya was right. Who knew when they would have this chance again. Maybe even thirty years was ambitious.

“Shane, picture it.” His husband pulled away and began gesturing, trying to paint a wild picture with his hands. “We drive to L.A. We trade in this very sensible SUV and get a very not sensible sports car with no roof. Maybe a vintage Porsche 911 Speedster—“

”What about a Corvette?”

”Make and model is not the point…right now…Anyway. Imagine your gorgeous husband, his golden skin, his curly hair whipping in the wind. Smiling at you.” Ilya raised a hand and grasped Shane’s jaw. “Maybe perfect song will come on the radio and I will sing to you. Sounds nice, yes?”

God that did sound amazing. How was Ilya so good at making the impossible seem inevitable? His husband never seemed to need a plan.

“That does sound nice.” Shane admitted as Ilya traced the freckles on his cheeks.

“Yeah?” Ilya’s eyes lit up.

“Maybe. Ilya, we’ll have to cancel everything after tonight and then make brand new reservations. That’s a lot of work. Besides, we’ll be in Vegas tomorrow night. Aren’t you excited for that?”

”Vegas is Vegas. We have been a million times. You have put on many shows for me there. Besides, I think I used all of my luck in Lake Charles.”

”I can always put on another show. Didn’t you rent a penthouse so we’re high above the strip and no one can see us.” Shane purred and leaned into Ilya’s hand.

“Mmm, tempting offer. But I offer you my hair in the wind in a beautiful vintage sports car.” Ilya leaned in and kissed Shane’s cheek.

His husband wasn’t going to give this up, was he?

“What about our reservations?” Shane asked as Ilya moved from his cheek to his eyebrows.

“I will do all the cancelling and rebooking if you drive in the morning?”

“I don’t know...”

“Shane,” Ilya pulled away from his kisses and looked at him. “What is there to say no to? Gorgeous husband. Hair of a god. Blue ocean waves. Fast car. Sounds so perfect, yes?”

“Yeah.” Shane smiled and pulled Ilya’s hand away, grasping it in his own. “I would love to see your hair whipping around in the wind. You may not have it in thirty years.”

Ilya’s jaw dropped and then curled into a devilish smile. “Oh you will pay for that!” He shouted as he pushed Shane down into the mattress.

Shane squealed with delight as Ilya began to attack his neck roughly and call him dirty names. He shivered as Ilya skimmed his body with his large and calloused hands, trying to not think of tomorrow and where they might be.

Because right now, Ilya was blowing raspberries on Shane’s stomach, causing him to giggle, his hands were pinning him down, and it felt like there was no escape from his husband’s attention. There was nowhere else Shane would rather be.

Chapter End Notes

Kudos or comment if you’re enjoying :)

Also, gasp, I removed a ch. Just three more chapters to go!

Chapter 13: Day 17: Highway 1

Chapter Summary

As Shane and Ilya wind their way along California’s breathtaking coast, every unexpected stop becomes another reason to fall in love all over again. But as Portland draws closer, so does the future they’ve spent years dreaming about.

Chapter Notes

Chapter song: Portland by Glitterfox

Fast turnaround on this one :)

Few things made Ilya happier than driving something fast and flashy. Whether it was his orange Porsche 718 Cayman or his bright red Ducati, Ilya loved speed and loved style more.

Honestly, it shouldn’t have surprised Shane when they pulled up to the luxury rental car shop that Ilya had indeed rented a vintage Porsche 911 Speedster—in silver. Shane’s eyeroll was audible. The list of do’s and don’t’s with the car was extensive and when Ilya was handed the keys, Shane almost wanted to scream, ‘Don’t trust my husband!’

Ilya, naturally, asked if they had a try and buy program. The sales associate was practically drooling when Shane pulled Ilya away from the counter and walked them to their car.

“Hey, I wanted to hear his pitch!” Ilya exclaimed as he took a seat behind the wheel.

Hi husband took a few moments to appreciate the car, the fine leather on the steering wheel, the bright shine of a freshly clean and polished dash. The loud rev of the engine as Ilya got it into.

“Ok, moya lyubov. Drive to Santa Barbara is ninety minutes, but this is California. Are you ready for a three hour drive?” Ilya asked as he shifted gear.

All Shane could do was laugh and smile.

———

It was the seventeenth day of their roadtrip, and Shane wasn’t sure who demanded that they sleep in that morning, but Shane certainly wasn’t complaining about their early night and late rise (ok, it was 8AM, but that was late…for Shane). Their morning jog along the beach was far more competitive than it should have been and both were wearing a thick sheen of sweat by the time they made it back and showered.

Ilya had painstakingly planned their route along Highway 1, minimizing the drive times each day, maximizing their sightseeing, and finding only truly unique places to stay. And of course, Ilya refused to put all of this in their Google sheet, instead relying on writing everything down in his diary which he quipped had now really just become another vehicle in which to capture their journey. Shane had rolled his eyes at the notion—he was sure Ilya was having to pay for extra cloud storage with all of the photos he had taken on this trip. What more could there be for Ilya to capture for himself?

Today would be easy. Only a two hour drive to Morro Bay with a pit stop in Pismo Beach so that they could rent a dune buggy and ride the sand dunes. The idea sounded thoroughly dangerous to Shane. If the insurers who insured Shane’s various body parts during his time as a professional hockey player had said no to activities like dune buggies, then there was clearly a reason to not partake in it.

Yet when they arrived at the Oceano dunes, Ilya confessed that he had arranged for a tour guide, and no, Shane’s life and body would not be in Ilya’s hands—it would be in that of a minimum-waged paid teenager. All the better.

The teenager, however, seemed to know exactly what he was doing and by the end of the journey, both Shane and Ilya were covered in sand and had smiles wider than the ocean before them. Shane was reluctant to leave and almost asked Ilya to change the reservation for the night, but Ilya began to excitedly talk about the hikes they were going to take tomorrow morning and the seals that they would see at Morro Beach.

Shane couldn’t say no.

Day 18 meant hiking on sandy hills and snacking on fruit that they had bought at a roadside stand the day before. It meant Ilya making kissy faces to the seals while they stood a very safe distance and height away. It meant an even shorter drive to a private resort that overlooked the cliffs and the ocean. As they relaxed in the heated pool that evening, bellies full of delicious food from a local farm-to-table restaurant, Shane let Ilya pull him in for languid kisses. Kisses for the world to see.

When they awoke that next morning, Ilya was practically vibrating with excitement. The drive, he said, had been beautiful so far, but now they were about to enter Big Sur, and Ilya assured Shane that the two hour drive ahead of them would take all day. He planned to stop them at almost every beach scene and roadside stand. Today, he said, let’s let our hair really blow in the wind.

It was the first splash of water that Shane felt on his face as they hiked that morning around Salmon Falls that Shane finally stopped to breathe the fresh air. Part of the wilderness reminded Shane of the cottage, but the crash of the waves on the shoreline when they made their first Oceanside stop pulled Shane out of his melancholy. Looking at the rocky beach and the cliffs around him, Shane felt pulled in.

It was the most beautiful thing that Shane had ever seen.

Ilya pulled him close as they snapped selfies together. A perfect family photo, his husband said, when another tourist took a photo of them together. The two sat at the lookout together at the entrance of Big Sur, each munching on sandwiches made with cheese and meats that were far too expensive, but they had been purchased locally.

Did the cost really matter?

Shane was sure his hair had never been messier as Ilya drove them along the coastline, the top down and the ocean air surrounding them. Cliffs on the side, water crashing against the rocks. Shane couldn’t believe they were going to drive through this for another day—he never wanted this drive to end.

Pulling into Santa Cruz felt like a smack in the face. Days of small towns and small crowds and suddenly Shane was smacked with civilization. Their drive along the coast was finally ending. It felt gross and smelled worse, but Ilya had found found ways to make him smile. He took them on a leisurely stroll on the beach so that could take pictures of Natural Bridges. Ilya even convinced Shane to walk the boardwalk with him and goaded him on to the wooden roller coaster. It left him with a headache and a husband who bounced around after saying, ‘Again, again, again.’

So they went again. And ate cotton candy. And got a caricature done with Ilya making heart eyes with Shane. And Ilya may or may not have gotten a candy apple.

His sticky hands traced Shane’s body that entire night.

It was only when they made their way into the Big Basin Redwood park that Shane realized maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea for them to have planned a five hour drive to go camping that evening. Shane had never seen trees so tall. If he hadn’t visited the Grand Canyon almost a week before, he probably would have felt smaller than he ever had before.

Ilya stopped in front of almost every tree, pulled them on every trail that took them to a waterfall, snuck every kiss he could. His kisses tasted like the strawberries they had bought yesterday.

“I was wrong.” Ilya said as they stood in front of Mother of the Forest.

”Wrong about what?” Shane asked, wrapping his arm around Ilya’s waist as they looked high in the sky to the top of the tree.

“When I said how I would propose to you all those years ago. Your dock, surrounded in candles.”

”It was a very romantic idea.”

“That you stole.” Ilya shot a glance at Shane who smiled back wickedly. “But no. Looking here, my idea was not so romantic. I should have driven you on all of these roads, walked you to this tree, and gotten on one knee. That would have been far more romantic.”

”And what’s stopping you from doing that today?”

“Well, I didn’t think to get you another ring.” Ilya sighed as he reached for Shane’s left hand where he toyed with Shane’s ring.

Shane laughed and smiled, looking at his husband. He took the moment to place a gentle kiss on Ilya’s cheek and then sank to one knee.

“Ilya Rozanov,” Shane said as he held Ilya’s gaze. “For nine years I have been able to call you my husband. It is a privilege that I never thought I would have as I thought I would have to wait until this moment, when we retired, to finally get to call you mine. We didn’t go that route thankfully.”

”Shane—“

“Always with the interrupting. You did it the first time, too.” Ilya’s eyes were welling with tears as Shane traced the ring on Ilya’s finger. “Now stop interrupting. We thankfully didn’t have to until retirement to get married. I have loved these last nine years with you. But I want to ask you again, now that we’re retired, will you marry me again? Spend the rest of your life with me with our family while I work every day to make you smile. To make you happy.”

“You little shit. You always steal my romantic ideas.” Ilya’s voice cracked as he squeezed Shane’s hand.

“Is that a yes or no, Rozanov?”

”Yes, moya lyubov. Yes to you for always.”

Shane rose and Ilya pulled him into a searing kiss. Ilya was grinning so wide into the kiss, which made it awkward, but Shane lived for these kisses. He would do anything to create as many happy kisses as he could.

“Does this mean we’re going to have another wedding ceremony.” Ilya asked as he pulled away from the kiss.

“Yes,” Shane smiled. “But this time we’ll make sure to have chairs.”

They wandered the forest for hours, well past the time they had intended to leave. But Shane wasn’t ready. Neither was Ilya.

But there was road ahead of them.

———

“I thought you said we were camping.” Shane asked as he removed their backpacks from the trunk.

“This is camping, Hollander. Just nicer.” Ilya was already busy playing with the propane firepit, trying to get it going in the quickly dimming sky.

Shane wasn’t sure this was actually camping. Yes, they were fairly isolated with the nearest “tent” well over one hundred meters away, but this was not camping. For one, the tent was massive, almost the size of a small house. It also had a physical door, not a tent flap. There was an outdoor shower though, one that Shane was eager to try with Ilya as soon as it got darker.

Going inside what was really a cabin, not a tent, Shane’s eyes went wide in shock. There was a canopy bed in the center of the room, the wood floor was covered in a plush carpet, even the small refrigerator that Ilya promised was sitting tucked in the corner with a small kitchenette. What really got Shane was that the walls were essentially windows meaning the full power of the morning sun would be hitting them the next day. Shane couldn’t wait.

Ilya popped his head inside the door. “Shane, hurry and get the cheese from the cooler. I got the firepit going and I want to make all those kabob recipes we watched on Instagram!”

Shane laughed and went to the car to grab the cooler, bringing over to the firepit, and then quickly pulled out a bottle of alberiño and the assortment of goodies Ilya had bought at the farmer’s market that morning. As Shane put together the kabobs, Ilya discovered speakers made quick work of finding the Indie playlist that Shane was always listening to on Spotify. When the first song came on, Shane smiled—he loved Glitterfox.

“How much longer?” Ilya asked, watching Shane with great intensity.

“Start cooking the ones I’m already done with, Mr. Impatient.” Shane shot a gently warning glare at Ilya who just hummed and grabbed the one with strawberries and brie. “Oh, make sure to put honey on that one when you’re done. I’ll go get it when I finish this kabob.”

Ilya’s eyes lit up and he quickly jutted the stick into the fire, slowly roasting his food. Shane wasn’t sure how Ilya had talked him into this incredibly unhealthy evening meal, but he was glad his husband did. The two ate in a contented quiet, laughing occasionally at bad kabob pairings or singing along with a song on the playlist.

It was a particularly bad combination of banana, prosciutto and marshmallow that had Shane gagging and Ilya laughing with tears that Shane would even try such a thing. Shane got him back with an equally terrifying combination of brie, tomato, and apple with a touch of hot sauce. Ilya could barely finish the first bite before spitting it out and throwing it deep into the woods. For the ants, he said.

After the second bottle of wine was opened, Shane was contentedly full, swimming on alcohol, and melting against his drug of choice, Ilya. Shane was feeling sleepy as Ilya hugged him tighter and placed soft kisses onto his head. Never in his life had Shane ever felt so content and free.

“I love you.” Shane murmured into the crux of Ilya’s neck where he laid a quiet kiss.

“Ya tebya lyublyu.”

Ilya pulled at Shane’s chin and brought their lips together. Shane moaned, sinking further into Ilya and he pressed harder against his husband, his hand moving quickly to try and unzip Ilya and pull him out. But Ilya pushed back, and grabbed his chin.

“Slow, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world.” Ilya whispered, Shane’s lips chasing his.

Ilya pulled Shane back, delivering a devastatingly slow kiss, his tongue like hot honey within Shane’s mouth. Shane fought the urge to push against Ilya, to grind up on him and almost thrashing at the thought of taking his husband inside of him. He whimpered as Ilya pulled away and began to work on his neck, gentle suckles and licks that had Shane quivering within seconds.

Shane turned his head so he could place his nose and lips into Ilya’s soft and golden curls with strands of grey starting to peek through. He grabbed Ilya’s hair, gently tugging as Ilya nipped at the base of Shane’s neck.

“God, Ilya.” Shane groaned.

“Yes, I am God.”

Ilya returned to Shane’s mouth, pressing a hot and desperate kiss against him. Yes, he was God. Shane kissed back with fury, grabbing fistfuls of Ilya’s hair and pulling him as close as he could. Forgetting slow, Shane shoved his hand down, feeling all of Ilya’s hard length beneath his shorts. Ilya grabbed Shane’s hand and pushed it away.

“So I am Mr. Impatient, hm? I thought I said slow.” Ilya purred as he grabbed Shane’s chin. “Do I need to tie you up?”

Shane gulped and looked at Ilya with wide and hungry eyes. Ilya laughed. “Mmm, tempting, yes? But no, not tonight. We do not have proper supplies. No, tonight you must be good. If you are good, I will give you a reward. Will you be good?”

A deep shiver ran through Shane’s spine and his lip quivered as he nodded yes. Yes, he would be so good.

“Good.” Ilya leaned forward and nipped at his lips. “Now let’s go shower and get you ready for me.”

Shane always loved showering with Ilya, but he especially loved it now with an open shower where they could see the evening stars. Ilya had even pulled the electric candles out from inside and lit their tiny shower, fake flames dancing across their skin. It took only seconds for Ilya to have Shane melted against him as he rubbed soap gently across Shane’s body, whispering Russian sweet nothings as his fingers worked across every muscle and crevice.

When Ilya was finished with him, it took all of Shane’s power not to push him against the stone wall of the shower and make love to him there. It didn’t matter if Ilya wasn’t clean—Shane wanted him all. But Ilya, as he always did, seemed to know just what was going through Shane’s head.

“Remember to behave.” His husband whispered as he took a soapy hand and ran it across Shane’s solid length.

Shane shivered and sighed, but turned so he was chest to chest with Ilya and began to soap him in return. Shane devoured Ilya’s moans as he massaged his body, his fingers working Ilya in ways that only decades of knowledge could have been able to find. Ilya was so hard by the time Shane was done washing him, Shane wasn’t sure if Ilya would forget his reward and take Shane against the wall. The thought made Shane leak even more.

Thankfully, or maybe not, Ilya wrapped Shane then himself in a towel and took them inside their tent where he quickly shoved Shane backwards on the bed. Maybe Ilya was in more of a hurry than he was letting on.

Shane smirked and began to slowly make back on the bed, nestling himself amongst the mountains of pillows. Ilya looked at Shane was if deciding where to take his first bite, make Shane feel particularly vulnerable. God he loved this.

Licking his lips, Ilya lowered himself over Shane and devoured his body with soft kisses and grunts of satisfaction as Ilya pulled moan after moan from Shane. By the time Ilya made it down to Shane’s cock, Shane was so hard it was painful. So of course Ilya ignored it and told Shane to get on his stomach. Shane quivered, eagerly waiting as he heard Ilya uncap the lube and work the first finger inside Shane’s tight hole.

It was always like this at the start, the intense pressure that quickly gave way to pleasure as Ilya’s firm fingers worked Shane open, teasing Shane’s prostate with brief brushes against. When Ilya worked a third finger in, Shane was begging.

“Please, please. Ilya. Please Ilya.” He was gasping, his clenched tightly in the sheets.

Ilya laid his body over Shane and entered him at the same maddening pace he had been taking all night. Yet Shane was consumed. So consumed as Ilya’s chest rubbed against his back as he thrust in and out, placing kisses on Shane’s freckles on the back of his neck, whispering in Russian how much he loved Shane, how he worshipped him, how Shane was so perfect.

Everything was Ilya. He surrounded Shane. Consumed him. Ilya. Ilya, Ilya, Ilya. Wherever Shane ended, Ilya began, each consuming the other as Shane cried out, his orgasm rocketing through him as Ilya did the same. Ilya’s weight was heavy upon him, and he placed kisses across Shane’s neck, whispering again, his breath and body like honey poured over him.

Shane never wanted to move, even after Ilya pulled out and the warm afterglow of the orgasm had worn off only to be replaced by stickiness. There was still warmth in his gut as Ilya turned him over and traced his fingers across Shane’s cheeks, studying the constellations with his freckles.

“I love you,” Ilya murmured as he pulled Shane into another languid kiss.

Words were beyond Shane at this moment, but he returned Ilya’s kiss with every bit of devotion of the syllables currently escaping his tongue. Never in his life had Shane felt so free and consumed.

———

It felt weird to almost be crying when they packed up their things from the campsite that morning. Shane never wanted to leave this place. If he could ever freeze time, it would be right here, this place, this moment with this man. Shane would do anything to make that happen.

But their bags were packed, loaded into the trunk, and Ilya was sitting comfortably behind the wheel of the Audi Spyder with a huge grin. This moment would end. Shane’s lips quivered and eyes welled as Ilya backed out and began to drive them down the forest road, making quick work of getting them to the wide interstate and on their way.

To Portland.

The radio was on. Shane wasn’t sure what the song was, who the artist was (not that he was good at that in the first place), but the song was nice. Gentle and rolling like the hills before them. Ilya’s hand reached out suddenly, his fingers searching for Shane’s. Shane grabbed Ilya’s hand, quickly intertwining their fingers and squeezing tight. The moment was gone. Passed.

They were going to Portland.

It was a long drive, six hours almost. They had, of course, split up the day, taking leisurely stops in small towns to eat or just see some silly shop, making pitstops at all the shoulders that offered a beautiful view, taking way too many pictures together while smiling at each other looking at each other stupidly and happily in love.

They were almost to Portland.

Just one more winery, Ilya had said. Their fingers were interlaced when they went in and Shane was quickly charmed by the rustic interior. One flight of wine, then a second for Shane and none for Ilya—he was driving after all. Shane got half the tasting notes right and Ilya was impressed. He congratulated Shane with a deep kiss.

They made it to Portland.

The hotel was beautiful. Of course it was. Ilya had paid through the nose for their room renting at this boutique hotel as it was his retirement gift to Shane, he joked. The hotel was exactly the sort of place Ilya loved—warm wood, modern furniture, impossibly stylish staff.

In the room, both peeled off the clothes and Shane made his way to the shower, scrubbing away the events of the day. He wished he was showering under the stars, candles lit and surrounding him.

When Shane exited the shower, Ilya was sitting on the plush couch, examining the closed envelopes of the reference letters from their friends and family. Shane walked over and sat next to him, his hand running up and down Ilya’s leg.

“Big day tomorrow.” Shane said quietly.

”Yes.” Ilya thumbed at the letter from Hayden and Jackie. “You are nervous?”

”Are you kidding me?” Shane swallowed. “I’m fucking terrified.”

”Really? I’m so fucking excited.”

Shane smiled and looked at Ilya, bringing his hand to rub against Ilya’s stubble. He took a deep breath and shuddered, nodding slowly and suddenly afraid to look his husband in the eyes. Shane felt Ilya’s hand bring his face back up.

“Shane. Is ok to be scared.”

”Everything’s going to change tomorrow.”

”We don’t know for sure. We could be declined by the agency.” Ilya shrugged as if it were such a simple statement to say.

“Hey,” Shane playfully punched at Ilya’s shoulder. “We both know there is no way that the agency will turn us down. We’re gonna be dads soon.”

”Probably.” Ilya smiled. “Most likely.”

”Definitely.” Shane smiled back.

“See!” Ilya grinned wider and pointed at Shane’s mouth. “Not scared anymore!”

Shane swatted Ilya’s hand and laughed, pulling his husband into a tight hug. “No, definitely still terrified. But, I’m ready to do this with you.”

Chapter End Notes

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Just two installments left!

Chapter 14: Day 23 - Portland

Chapter Summary

Chapter song: The Bottom of It by The Fruit Bats.

Chapter Notes

It was 3AM when Shane silently slipped out of their hotel room. Before he knew it, he found himself warming up on the bike in the hotel gym. Slow pedalling at first before he burst into speed, punishing his legs until he couldn’t feel them anymore. Then Shane pedaled more.

Shane wasn’t sure how much time had passed on the bike until he looked in the mirror and saw himself, drenched in sweat and mouth dry and parched. He should stop. But he couldn’t. One more kilometer. Two.

The numbness in his legs began to spread upwards until Shane could feel nothing at all. He finally came to a stop, panting heavily and thirsty. He hadn’t though to bring a water bottle to the gym and the tiny paper cone cups did little to satiate his thirst. Paper cup after paper cup, he drank. Then, legs feeling like jelly and cement, Shane made his way back to the room.

It was still early. The sun had yet to rise. Ilya was still sleeping. Shane went to the washroom and showered, turning up the heat until it was searing his skin, burning off the sweat. Burning everything.

The washroom filled with steam, clogging Shane’s lungs, but he stayed—relishing in the stuffy and moist heat that surrounded him. So lost was he in the mission to feel nothing that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hard and calloused hand rub gently across his shoulder.

“Shane,” Ilya whispered as he brought his other hand to Shane’s shoulder. “It is ok.”

No. No it wasn’t. Shane violently shook his head and began to cry. Ilya turned him and pulled him close, letting Shane’s tears be washed away by the shower.

Eventually, the tears ran dry and were replaced by tender kisses on Shane’s cheeks. The two cleaned and turned the shower off. Ilya dressed him and then himself before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the café across the street. They served croissants, made in house—at least that’s what Ilya said as he pushed the bread in front of Shane. His stomach gurgled then clenched. Shane shook his head.

“Shane.” Fuck that gentle voice his husband always used on him. Fuck it. “Shane, please eat. Your clothes were soaked with sweat. How long were you exercising? Please Shane, eat.”

It took more willpower than Shane was willing to admit before he took that first small bite of the croissant. God, it was delicious. Shane ate it quickly. Ilya bought him another. Then another.

Shane didn’t even have the power to fight with Ilya when he saw that his husband had ordered a few chocolate croissants for himself. That man hadn’t even worked out this morning—the retirement ten kilograms would hit him hard if he kept that up.

“Shane,” Ilya said again as Shane finished his fourth croissant. “Can you please look at me?” Shane looked up. Ilya smiled. “There you are.”

”I’m sorry.” Shane mumbled, his mouth unable to form any other words.

“Do not apologize. Is ok to be nervous.”

Ilya picked at his croissants while watching Shane thumb at the remaining crumbs on his plate. The two sat in silence as their coffee cooled, almost untouched.

“What if they say no?” Shane asked, his eyes fixed on Ilya.

“Then they say no. We will have to move on. I don’t think it will be easy to, but we will have to. We will still have each other.”

Shane swallowed. He looked up at Ilya. His husband smiled.

“Do you really think they will say no to us?” Ilya asked.

Shane shook his head. On paper, they seemed like they would be the perfect parents—the perfect fathers. Yet Shane knew what this agency didn’t. He couldn’t even keep track of a binder.

“Well, meeting is in two hours. Weather is not so hot here like down in Texas so maybe we walk to the appointment? Someone decided to workout without me this morning…” Ilya took the last bite of his food, licking the chocolate.

“Sorry...” Shane mumbled, suddenly unable to look Ilya in the eyes again.

“No more apologizing, Shane. This I am serious about. Let’s go to hotel, get the paperwork and walk. Let’s talk about all the amazing things we will get to do when we become dads. Maybe think of names?”

“Getting ahead of ourselves there aren’t we?”

”Mmm, perhaps. But it is good to have hope, yes?”

Ilya stood and reached his hand out. Shane stood and smiled, grabbing Ilya’s hand and interlacing their fingers. They walked out of the café.

Together.

———

Shane looked at the wine menu and squinted. How did he forget his glasses back at home? He looked up at the waiter.

“Do you have a Spanish Alberiño?” Shane asked, giving up on trying to decipher the blurry text.

The waiter nodded and pulled the wine list away. Shane looked at Ilya to find his mouth curved into a wide smile.

“You know…there are other wines than alberiños that I like.” Ilya said wistfully as he ran his finger across the rim of the empty wine glass.

“Yeah, but it’s your favorite varietal though, right?” Shane smirked, proud that he remembered the word ‘varietal’.

“This is true but…maybe we should have gotten a different varietal tonight. Say, I don’t know. Maybe champagne?”

Shane laughed and chucked a small piece of his roll at Ilya. “Hey, we’re not parents yet. We’ve just been accepted by the agency. Now we have to be paired with a surrogate, meet her to see if she’s the right fit, get the fertilized eggs off of ice and sent here, then our surrogate will have to successfully get pregnant, then—“

”Shane, enough ‘and thens’. We’re going to be dads! Yes, it may take a year or two depending on if the implantation takes. But we’re going to be dads!!” Ilya’s smile was wide and bright.

The waiter returned just as Shane was about to respond and poured Shane the first taste to ensure it was a good bottle. Shane diligently swirled the wine in the glass and smelled just above the rim. He took the smallest sip. It was delicious and he nodded to the waiter to pour the full glass. Shane took another sip from his full glass. It tasted like…pear…

”Mmm,” Ilya said as he took a sip. “Tastes like pear. I like it.”

“What kind of pear, Ilya?”

Ilya flashed him a wicked grin and took a larger than necessary sip before turning towards the appetizer. Shane couldn’t believe this man was going to be a father. He would be a father.

They were going to be dads.

Dinner was a quiet affair filled with quick kisses over the table and soft laughs. Neither could stop smiling the entire time. By the time the waiter came back to ask if they wanted dessert, the bottle of wine had long been finished and Shane started to order two glasses of Champagne. It was Ilya that then reminded him that they had an early flight the next day and it would be a long day of travel—best to save drinking again for when they were back home and well-rested.

Shane agreed, and they left the tiny restaurant that he had found after their appointment with the agency. No reservations, no plans, just good food. Shane felt incredible.

They were going to be dads.

———

It was well-past midnight when Shane and Ilya arrived at the home in Ottawa. Their first flight was delayed, which made them miss their first connection, which gave them an eye-wateringly long layover at JFK. The two had talked of just staying the night in New York City, but both were exhausted and homesick and decided that a 1AM arrival was better than no arrival at all.

Shane didn’t even make it to the bed. He collapsed on the couch and woke there with a shock the next morning, still dressed in his clothes from the plane. Their house was oddly quiet, and Shane went to search for his husband, finding their bed clearly slept-in but no Ilya to be found. Trudging back downstairs, Shane found his phone and checked his messages.

‘Gone to get Anya. I’ll bring back breakfast. -Your Husband’

Shane smiled at the text and groaned, giving himself a large stretch and then heading towards the shower. He couldn’t believe he fell asleep still smelling like airplane.

An hour later, Shane was officially annoyed. Ilya was unresponsive to his text messages and Shane was starving. Screw it, he was making breakfast. Going in to the kitchen however, he realized it was a futile attempt. Having been gone for almost a month, there was no food in their fridge. Fuck.

Shane plopped down at their breakfast nook, the table covered with the contents of Ilya’s bag. Shocking, it only took a single morning for his husband’s mess to spread. Shane began to grab Ilya’s clothes and the giant purple dildo off of the table when a yellow sticky note on Ilya’s journal caught his eye. He went to grab his glasses that had been left on the counter nearly a month before and returned to look at the note.

’For Shane. So we wouldn’t forget. -Your gorgeous husband Ilya’

What?

Shane opened the journal. The first page was a crude sketch of Shane at the Art Institute of Chicago with a note, ’Shane was fascinated by Renoir paintings. He thought people couldn’t see his eyes tear up. He looked stunning.’ Shane smiled, those paintings had been beautiful. He was so consumed by them, he hadn’t even noticed Ilya sketching.

Turning the page, he found coasters from New Orleans tape the pages, a small receipt from the jazz bar, and even…Thom with an “H”’s business card. More notes talking about the day in the Big Easy, even a note on how Shane hated when Ilya pulled him into tight and sweaty hugs but Shane also secretly loved it. Shane blushed. He had.

Shane’s lips curled into a smile. What was this even?

Pages of Austin and a drawing of the grackle, the riverlake. A note saying how Shane’s hair glowed like it had a halo during the sunset on their anniversary, how the concert wasn’t in the binder but it was the best surprise. There were small trinkets from every winery they visited, notes about what wines Shane got wrong and which ones Ilya got right. Ilya even made note of the fact that he won at tasting. That man never stopped being an asshole.

The next page held a business card for a goat farm and he realized it was the couple that helped them on the road. Ilya left a note of, ’Allegedly makes best goat cheese in west Texas. Jason offered me some from the cooler, but Shane was too upset.’ Jesus, he had completely forgotten about them.

When Shane lost the binder, Ilya only made a note, ’I will make this ok.’

Pages of notes, business cards and post cards, a Mexican jumping bean, every page.

Shane bought overpriced art today. It will look great in our cottage.

Pancakes at diner were dry. Shane said this is why pancakes are for breakfast, not lunch.

I have married the most stunning person in the world. He looked like a god in the sunrise this morning. I did not take enough pictures.

Shane proposed! Again…Remind him to buy me another ring.

We’re going to be dads!

When did Ilya have the time to write this? To do this? Shane had seen him scribble in this thing every once and a while, but here was every day of their road trip, every pit stop and bad meal, each wine they tried. Every moment.

Shane flipped through the pages again and again. How? When?

Tears were falling down his face as Shane traced his fingers over Sandy and Melissa’s note to them, as he looked at the leaf Shane found while they hiked around redwoods.

“You found it.”

Shane shot his head around to find his stunning husband and dog standing at the entryway to the kitchen.

“Ilya…”

”Sorry I was gone so long. Breakfast place took forever to get our order and—“

Shane didn’t let him finish and pulled Ilya into a fierce kiss. Ilya returned the kiss with fervor, his fingers running through Shane’s hair. This man was his husband.

“Ilya…” Shane breathed out as he finally pulled away from the kiss. “Your diary…”

”Mmm, not diary. Journal. I said this before we left. Maybe some people don’t always listen.” Ilya leaned back in and kissed the freckles on Shane’s cheeks.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t believe it. It’s everything…”

”No sweetheart. Everything is our family. This was just the journey to it.”

Ilya wrapped Shane in a tight hug and he melted. Shane breathed in deep, that distinct Ilya musk mixed with the smell of a fresh shower. Maybe a little a bit like dog where Anya had clearly snuggled against him. This was his Ilya. His husband. The man who had been capturing their story behind his back the entire time.

Shane looked up at his Ilya and smiled. Ilya looked back at him, stars swimming in those blue eyes. “Thank you,” he mouthed, before Ilya wrapped him back into a tight hug.

“I was serious about the another ring. I’m not a diamond guy, but I expect something nice so you prove your love to me.”

”Oh,” Shane laughed. “I have to prove my love to you, hm?”

”Yes, we’re married. We are supposed to do that everyday.”

What had Shane done to deserve this man? Deserve this life? It didn’t matter. Right now he was home. Right now, he was held tight in his husband’s arms. There was no place he would rather be.

Chapter End Notes

Comment or kudos if you’ve enjoyed. Epilogue coming soon~

Chapter 15: Epilogue

Chapter Notes

October was Shane’s favorite month. Maybe it had to do with the start of the hockey season or that it was when Fall finally started to take hold with its delicious sights and smells. Yes, October was Shane’s favorite month of the year. And Ilya’s. But that was only because of Halloween.

It was early October, the leaves had changed a couple weeks before and were now steadily falling outside. The back lawn of the cottage had been covered in leaves that morning, but Ilya had been up since the crack of dawn and had put that energy to use by raking up the leaves into giant piles.

Shane was sitting in the living room sorting through the mail as he looked up, watching his husband and their son chase each other around the yard. Charly was three now and was filled with exuberant toddler energy and was finally discovering the magic of leaf piles. Shane watched as Charly begged Ilya to pick him up and toss him high into the air so that he could land on a giant pile, scattering leaves everywhere.

So much for all of the hard work Ilya had put into yardwork.

Shane sighed, wishing he could be out there with them but there was a giant pile of mail that his parents had delivered to them this morning from their Ottawa home. Some of it was weeks old and needed responses. Plus…

A small grunt rang out and Shane looked over to the bassinet to see their tiny daughter, just three months old, wiggled on her back, trying to get comfortable in the middle of her nap. Shane smiled and went to adjust the fireplace, worried little Juliette might be chilled. Temperatures were already beginning to drop into the single digits at night and the days weren’t getting much warmer. Anya looked up at him and seemed to smile in relief for the increase in heat.

Juliette gave a contented sigh and smack of the lips before returning to a deep slumber. Shane stifled back a yawn as he went to sit back on the couch to get back to his original mission of sorting the mail while lunch cooked and Juliette napped.

To no surprise, the mail was mostly junk but there were a few responses to Juliette’s birth announcements that went out a few weeks back. A few from former teammates, the marketing officer from the Irina Foundation, and then…one from Sandra and Melissa.

Shane grinned and opened the letter. They, of course, congratulated Shane and Ilya on the latest addition to their family and then reminded them that Sandra was now fully retired and they were expecting to be able to visit the cottage next summer. For that, Shane couldn’t wait and he knew Ilya would be thrilled with the news and would likely tuck this letter into their growing red journal, now stuffed to the brim with vacation notes.

The timer in the kitchen rang and Shane went to pull the casserole out of the oven. While he was up, he made a bottle for Juliette. Just in time, he thought, as Shane saw her stirring as he went back into the living room. Knowing time before crying was short, Shane stuck his head out the backdoor.

“Papa and Charly, lunch is ready! Come inside.” Shane threw his voice across the large yard.

Charly let out a delighted squeal and ran towards the door where he greeted Shane with a big hug. Ilya followed shortly after and pulled Shane in tight before giving him a loud and exaggerated kiss on the cheek. Charly made puking noises causing Shane and Ilya to laugh.

Shane smiled as Charly ran over to check on his now crying sister and Ilya plucked the bottle out of Shane’s hand. It didn’t take long for Charly to lose interest in Ilya feeding his sister. He wandered back to the table and grabbed his plate of food, where his lasagna then slid off, promptly causing Charly to burst into tears. Shane sighed. Of course.

The house was loud and maybe just a bit too chaotic for Shane’s taste, but there was Ilya, singing loudly while feeding Juliette, and little Charly was already tugging at Shane’s leg, covered in red sauce, asking Shane for more lunch. Chaotic was maybe an understatement.

Shane wouldn’t change a thing.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you to everyone who read this. If you’ve enjoyed the journey, please leave a comment or kudos. Those mean the world ❤️