Summary:

The doorbell rings just as Shane is finishing brushing his teeth – the first thing they rose to do, because he wants to kiss Ilya good morning – and he and Ilya exchange a confused look in the bathroom mirror. It's barely dawn, and Ilya's curls are adorably tousled from sleep as he scratches his ribs lazily, toothbrush dangling from the corner of his mouth. 

Shane hesitates, then rinses his toothpaste out and runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck, it's probably anti-doping."

No one else would be here at this hour – unless it's an emergency.