Summary:

The front door of the cottage banged open and Ilya and Shane both tumbled out, shoving at each other and darting for the car.

“I told, I carry groceries!” Ilya protests. “First is ‘no carry bags, Ilya’, ‘how’s your ribs, Ilya’, but I am fine. Hollander. Hollander!”

“You don’t even know where the groceries go, there’s no reason for both of us- My parents can carry their own stuff! Rozanov!”

Ilya’s palms slapped onto Yuna’s car door, his breathing slightly elevated, cheeks flushed and a wide boyish grin on his face. “Got here first!”