Summary:

“Aren't you gonna- you don't have questions? You're just…” Shane trails off when Ilya kisses the inside of his knee. “...fine with it?”

“I have many questions,” Ilya drawls, cheek still pressed into Shane's leg. “I am fine? Mm, probably.” He quirks his lips in a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “I will know for sure after we talk.”

When Shane starts to sit up, Ilya lowers his legs onto the mattress and slinks up beside him. He hasn't taken off his sneakers yet. “I'm not gonna kill you, or anything, if you're worried.”

“Comforting,” Ilya rumbles.

-

Or, Ilya finds out Shane's pre-game ritual involves murder.