Summary:

“I’m fine,” he dismisses lightheartedly, almost chuckling at how Ilya’s whole body seems to decompress at the information. A small smile appears on his lips. He reasons. Fractured collarbone, concussed, arm in a sling. Out for the playoffs. Him being obliged to stay at home, resting and recovering, while his team could continue playing for the rest of the season without him — he knows the minute the feeling of the meds would wear off, the thought alone would have been enough to send him into psychosis. He considers his options. His throbbing head doesn’t really help. He then supposes he could have a little fun of his own. “Heh,” Shane giggles before even managing to blurt anything else out. “My boyfriend is here.” — (Or: dopey Shane has the time of his life wooing a very worried Ilya.)