Summary:

Shane stares at him with those wide, brown doe eyes that liquifies Ilya’s heart. “Ilya is a pretty name.” He says softly. “You’re pretty too.” “Am I?” Ilya laughs lightly. He taps on Shane’s curled up fingers. Understanding Ilya’s intentions, Shane opens his palm up, letting Ilya guide it up to his face. Ilya lets go when Shane’s fingers are just shy of contact, dealer’s choice. Shane hesitates for a moment before deciding to cup Ilya’s cheek. “Mhm. Pretty eyes.” Shane says woozily, fingers gingerly tracing over Ilya’s features in a way that prompts Ilya to press into his husband’s palm even further. or the doped-up shane fic no one asked for