Summary:

“You are still on about this?” Ilya laughed. “You will have one beer, get tummy ache and want to go to bed.” “I will not!” Shane said, more shrill than he intended. “You want to bet?” “I thought you weren’t into gambling.” Ilya grabbed Shane’s hand and pulled it up to his lips, then placed a kiss on his ring finger. “I will bet on you any day.” Which, fuck, made Shane melt a little bit. Until, “Plus you will lose.” “Fine.” Shane ripped his hand out of Ilya’s grip. “Bet. Whatever.” OR: It's Luca Haas' birthday, and Shane wants to prove he's able to let loose sometimes.