Summary:

Shane goes to Ottawa to spend a night with Ilya between games. But when he gets to Ilya's house, he's surprised to find that Ilya's weekend in bed has taken on a different meaning. Mostly fluff. Set during The Long Game, but no real spoilers. “Ilya?” Shane called. It was odd that he’d made it this far into Ilya’s house without being jumped. Normally, Ilya would have Shane half undressed the second the door closed. “In here,” Ilya called. The call sounded like it was coming from the bedroom. Did Ilya have some sort of surprise for him? The thought made Shane adjust his pants. A surprise from Ilya could be anything. Shane jogged up the staircase toward his bedroom, taking two steps at a time. However, when he opened the bedroom door, he did not see Ilya. “Ilya?” he called again, slightly quieter. “The bathroom,” he called, which Shane now clearly heard coming from the ensuite. Weird. Surprises didn’t usually start in the bathroom. Still, Shane pushed the door open. Ilya curled in the fetal position on the bathroom floor was not the kind of surprise he had in mind. “Are you okay?” Shane asked. “The stupid…” Ilya gestured in front of himself, trying to conjure the word from thin air. “The stupid virus. It took down the whole team.” Shane’s instincts told him to turn and run away from Ilya as fast as he could. Ilya had mentioned a few players being down at their last game with a stomach bug. The last thing Shane needed was their weekend together forcing him to miss games next week. But then he looked at Ilya. His forehead was soaked in sweat, and his skin looked pallid. There was also a look in his eyes that was screaming stay directly into Shane’s mind. Shane hardly ever got sick. His immune system was excellent. He’d run to the pharmacy and grab some vitamin C later, just to be safe. “Are you still…?” Shane nodded to the toilet. Ilya shook his head. “There is nothing left in me. My whole soul was taken from me. Come here.” Shane hesitated momentarily before kneeling on the cold, grey tile floor. He couldn’t deny Ilya, especially when his voice sounded so needy. “Hollander, I need you to give funeral speech. Start planning it so I can give it my approval.” Ilya flopped his arm and grabbed Shane’s wrist with fake desperation. Shane shook his head. “Idiot.” “Your idiot. At least for the next few minutes. Until I die.” Ilya smiled wryly under the curls of hair that fell into his face. Shane stood, grabbing onto Ilya’s arm to hoist him up. “Let’s get you to bed.” Ilya groaned dramatically as he stood, but the slight sway when he planted both feet on the floor was very real. Shane put his hands on Ilya’s hips to steady him.