Summary:

There’s a problem with the plan. Shane hates spaghetti. But what he loves is Ilya calling him his boyfriend. That’s better than anything he’s ever felt before. Not even Ilya’s cock- wait. No. No, that’s... well, it’s a close second. Fifty-fifty. They say goodbye, and he drives them home (which is its own distinctly heavy topic of whose home belongs to whom) and they kiss as soon as they’re in the door and Ilya’s sliding inside not three minutes later and fucking him so, so good over his kitchen counter. And then he wakes up, and there are only seven days left. Shane thinks he probably hates the number seven more than he hates spaghetti.