Summary:

Ilya Rozanov spoke like he knew him because he fucking did.

“Oh my god,” Shane shrieked, the sound too loud for the space. “Oh my GOD,” Shane repeated, heart thrumming in his chest just like before.

This was a sick, cosmic fucking joke. How hadn’t Shane put two and two together before? His memory and pattern recognition were what made him so good at his job, his ability to remember the small details others tend to over look is what made him recoil into himself because others didn’t remember minute particulars, others certainly didn’t voice them and make others uncomfortable. 

Shane couldn’t believe it. How had he been so fucking blind? So fucking obtuse all these months with the back and forth?  

Rose’s comment weeks ago came front and center into his mind.

“He’s really getting under your skin, isn’t he?”

Shane wanted to fucking die. 

Shane Hollander knew Ilya Rozanov. How the fuck could he ever forget?

OR

An office AU no one asked for.