Summary:

Everything was almost perfect. The Centaurs were already having their best season in two decades, Shane had fit right in and was killing it on the ice, Ilya was married to the love of his life, and they finally didn't need to hide anymore. And yet…there was one thing standing in the way of perfection, and Ilya was trying very hard not to think about it too much in case it gave him a heart attack. Shane had been playing for the Centaurs, in Ottawa, with Ilya, for six weeks now and he still hadn't moved in. Everything was almost perfect. The Centaurs were already having their best season in two decades, Shane had fit right in and was killing it on the ice, Ilya was married to the love of his life, and they finally didn't need to hide anymore. And yet…there was one thing standing in the way of perfection, and Ilya was trying very hard not to think about it too much in case it gave him a heart attack. Shane had been playing for the Centaurs, in Ottawa, with Ilya, for six weeks now and he still hadn't moved in. The summer had gone the way it always had. They spent all of it at the cottage, commuting to the camp together. Ilya had waited, wondering if Shane was going to take a weekend while their time was their own and bring his stuff up from Montreal, but he hadn't. He hadn't talked about it at all. Ilya had asked, when the first day of pretraining arrived, if they needed to go to Montreal first and Shane had just said, "Nah," eyes fixed on a text to Rose. They'd driven to Ottawa and Shane had slipped in Ilya's space like he always did, any time he visited. A routine came about naturally: practices, workouts, taking Anya for a walk, cuddling in front of the TV, fucking Shane's brains out. But time slipped away and Ilya abruptly realized a month and a half had gone by and Shane still hadn't moved in. He couldn't think of a way to ask about it that didn't sound accusatory. They'd lived apart for their entire relationship. The summers at the cottage were wonderful but they were frantic and stolen and fraught as well. And last summer, their first one out, had been almost entirely absorbed by wedding planning and running the camp. They'd never done this before - coming home to each other every night after practice and waking up together every morning before a game. Ilya couldn't help thinking…maybe it was too much for Shane. Maybe it was too much of Ilya's chaos for Shane's perfection. Maybe he was keeping one foot planted firmly in Montreal because he wasn't sure yet if he wanted to be here full time. So Ilya tried to make Shane feel welcome in quiet ways. "I moved the chest over so you could put a desk there," he said, as soon as Shane came home from his run. God, he looked delicious, all sweaty and pink-cheeked. "Hmm?" "I have my office upstairs but you do not, so I thought you could put a desk here." "Oh. Yeah? I don't think so. I only really need a desk in the summer and I have my office at camp for that. I'm fine with my laptop." Shane pressed a kiss to Ilya's cheek. "Did you have breakfast yet?" Ilya frowned at Shane's retreating back. "No, not yet." "Okay, I'll make eggs." ** A few days later, Ilya tried again. "We need more towels. I make you come so much you take many showers." Shane rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it has nothing to do with us both being professional athletes who work out for a living." "We need more sheets, too. Is that also an athlete thing?" "Shut up." "Which ones should we get? We could go shopping." Ilya felt like an idiot, sitting there like a lost puppy, hoping his husband would suggest a trip to Home Sense, as if that would mean something. But Shane just shrugged. "You can just order more of what you already have. I like the green ones." "Right, okay." What you already have. Cause they were Ilya's towels, and Ilya's sheets. And Shane was just a guest. Still. ** "We could get a new place?" Shane chewed on the end of his pen, eyes rolling up from his notebook to meet Ilya's. He frowned, confused. "Like another cottage?" "No, a different house. Leave this one." "You want to move?" Ilya shrugged. "Not really. But we could pick out somewhere new. We are married now." "I like it here. It's an easy drive to the arena. Plus I wouldn't want to uproot Anya." Shane scratched her behind her ears and she stretched out long. "Alright. You know I am happy to move for you, right?" He'd already moved all the way to fucking Canada for Shane, so that felt like a stupid thing to say. "I know." Shane yawned and tucked his toes under Ilya's thigh. "Think Coach will have us working on the PK tomorrow?" Ilya rubbed his thumb over the jut of Shane's ankle. "Yes, I think so." **