Chapter Text
August 2014
Lily
Aug. 25 6:00AM
[Image description: Viktoriya on her stomach. She is lifting herself on her elbows and giving the camera a gummy smile]
Aug. 25 6:20AM
She’s so cute!
Past security, boarding soon.
We agreed I’d meet you in the red garage on whatever level you can find parking, correct?
yes you worry too much
see you soon ❤️
[Image description: A selfie of Ilya with Viktoriya in his lap. Her hair sticks up in all directions except for one tuft that he has manage to clip into a tiny barrette. They are giving the camera identical unimpressed looks.]
See you soon ❤️
“Okay Lapochka,” Ilya says glancing in his rear view at Vikulya who is currently chewing on her fist in the back seat. “Here is game plan. Shane is going to get into car, you will be adorable angel we both know you can be, win his heart immediately, no screaming will happen. We will drive home and you will fall asleep on the way because you will not be screaming.”
He listens patiently as she babbles back a reply, that he decides is probably an affirmative and not a death threat.
He continues when she has finished, “We will get back in time for your next feed then you will have some floor time with your mobile while I make lunch, tuna melts. You will be soooo tired after exciting day, sleep for three whole hours so that Shane and I can have alone time. You. Will. Not. Scream.”
That is about as far as he’d gotten in his plan for the two weeks Shane is spending with them in Boston. He’d spent more time agonizing over whether to even agree to this than he’d spent thinking about what they'd actually do once Shane arrived. They’d be practically trapped at Ilya’s home regardless what with being public figures known for their rivalry and the addition of a two-month-old to whatever they are so he refuses to feel guilty. Thank God he’d decided to live outside of Boston rather than in the city proper. His new home is private and on enough land that they won’t have to be trapped indoors like they would in the smaller apartment he rented in the city his first three years in Boston.
He’s pulled out of his reflecting when he sees Shane approaching the car. He’s wearing a zip-up hoodie with the hood pulled up over a baseball cap, expensive looking sunglasses, basketball shorts, and black Rebook tennis-shoes with white socks. He looks ridiculous; Ilya loves him.
Ilya presses a button on the cars dashboard that opens the hatchback of his car. Shane loads his things into the back quickly before hoping into the passenger seat.
“Hi Ilya.” He says as a shy smile graces his face, he then angles his head to the back seat “and hello Viktoriya!”
Ilya shakes his head “No no Shane, this is to formal no one calls her Viktoriya.” He says.
“Okay, what should I call her then?” Shane asks a laugh in his voice.
“Depends, I let the Americans call her Tori. Is stupid name probably but children need adversity to succeed.” Ilya replies, ignoring the soft adversity that Shane breaths out but cataloging the dopey smile on the other man’s face.
“Well, I’m not calling her something you think is stupid.” Shane says still smiling.
“I call her Vikulya so does Svetlana, my old friend from Russia, it’s more like… baby cute, I guess, I don’t know how to explain.” Ilya says and continues when Shane nods in understanding “Vika is probably most common she will probably use it when she goes to school.”
“I’ll call her Vika then.” Shane says. Then his eyebrows furrow together making that cute little wrinkle Ilya loves before he continues “Wait does that mean that there’s something less formal than Ilya to call you?”
“Oh, there’s lots and lots of things you can call me Hollander.” Ilya flirts trying to distract.
“Come on I’m serious, what was that your friend called you on Instagram?” Shane says pulling out his phone and navigating to the app.
“Is not a big deal Hollander I know names are not really the same over here.” Ilya says. He doesn’t think he could maintain composure if he hears Shane start using diminutives.
“Ilyukha!” Shane declares having found the post.
Ilya snorts rolling his eyes a bit. “Da, that is what friends call me in Russia.” He says trying to move the conversation on.
“You don’t like it?” Shane asks.
“Not that, just Ilyukha is what school friends and old team back in Russia called me it just doesn’t sound right coming from you.” Ilya says.
Shane tilts his head to the side considering “Well if there’s more than one nickname for Viktoriya that means that there is more than one for Ilya right, what would you have me call you?” He asks.
“Just call me Ilya.” He pleads.
“I’ll just Google and start trying things if you don’t tell me.” Shane says waving his phone to make a point.
Ilya sighs shaking his head, “Ilyusha, but don’t call me that in front of anyone.” he mutters giving up.
“Ilyusha?” Shane repeats trying out the name and casually making his heart skip a beat.
Ilya feels his entire face flush; he is probably going to catch fire and die.
The world seems to freeze around them. Ilya because of the sudden wave of longing and desire that washes over him while Shane seems enraptured by the physical evidence of his effect on the other man.
The moment stretches before it is interrupted by the stink of baby poop and the loud and displease scream of Vikulya demanding a diaper change.
“Fuck.” Ilya mutters under his breath a little thankful, a little annoyed, and already opening his door so that he can do damage control.
It’s a mess. He has to ask Shane to hold the case of wipes and pass them to him so that he has both hands free. Somehow, they all end up laughing by the time he is buckling Vikulya back into her seat.
🌸HildaTilda🌸@Hilda95
now you all are going to call me crazy, but I swear to god I just saw Shane Hollander at the boston international airport baggage claim
Shane is a bit amazed to see Ilya in action as a dad. While he had a hard a time picturing it, he’d harbored no doubts that he would be doting and gentle and is being proven right. Ilya lets Shane carry his own bags as well as the diaper bag into the house as he sets about feeding and burping Vika while speaking to her in a steady stream of soft Russian.
Once she’s been feed Ilya settles her down on a play-mat under a complicated looking mobile on a little area of floor between the fireplace and the kitchen island that seems to be set up as a play area. It’s funny, he has heard some of the Montreal WAGs discuss how seeing their partners with a baby affects them but he had never quite understood why before now.
He has always said, when asked, that he was neutral on the idea of having kids. Sure, he might, one day, be open to being a dad. He enjoys the quiet peace of feeding and rocking a baby to sleep, loves refereeing races at team barbecues, and always has fun sitting at a coffee table with coloring books so he can ask questions and hear exactly why it is okay for the grass to be blue on this picture. The hesitance comes from a blank space that makes thinking of life as a parent difficult. In his imaginings he’d thought that it would be fun to teach his own kid to how play hockey, and how to cheat at Monopoly to piss of his mom and dad but he never got more specific than that. The mother of any imaginary children was amorphous and absent sometimes at work, running errands, or dead never helping never a partner just empty space occupied by an unknown.
Shane always assumed that he’d have an easier time picturing it once he has met a woman that he wants to plan a future with. He might have been half right because suddenly, he’s fantasizing in bright Technicolor about parent teacher conferences, ballet recitals, peewee hockey games, and surly teenagers screaming about UNO because they share his competitiveness. In every new fantasy Ilya is next to him, holding hands and cheering and teasing. It’s almost terrifying enough to make Shane run, but he’d come here to find out what they could be, if they could be, and he is going to find out even if it scares him.
“I’ll make lunch you okay with tuna melt?” Ilya asks standing and moving toward the kitchen at Shane’s affirming nod. He pauses about a foot away from where Shane has leaned back on the kitchen island. Ilya seems to make a decision and quickly swoops in to press a kiss to Shane’s temple. “You watch baby for me make sure she doesn’t run away to join circus.” He murmurs before rounding the island into the kitchen.
Vika is quite a calm baby considering she is so young content to track the mobile with her big hazel eyes.
“She is showing off today.” Ilya says leaning on the counter once he’s put the sandwiches in the oven to warm “don’t let her fool you eventually you will see, she is terror.”
Shane smiles “I don’t believe you, that’s a face that has never done anything wrong.”
“Oh, I see, you can take night shift then.”
Shane smiles “I could if you’re serious. I basically camped out on Hayden and Jackie’s couch for a month after the twins were born so that I could help out. I know a thing or two.” He says.
Ilya gives a noncommittal hum as the oven timer sounds “Come eat.”
Thankfully, Vikulya does go down for a long nap after lunch. Ilya has Shane hold her while he rolls her little bassinet from his bedside to her nursery next door. Once she’s down and her white noise machine is on Ilya creeps to the door and pulls it closed behind him. He turns to Shane who’d been watching him with a soft look on his face since he’d handed Vikulya over.
The air between them turns electric in seconds as they lock eyes and realize they are truly alone for the first time all day. Before he has a chance to think Ilya finds himself crowding Shane up angst the nearest wall. They don’t kiss at first just breath each other’s, air bodies flush together. Ilya buries his head in Shane’s neck pressing a quick kiss to the skin there which startles a gasp out of the other man. Shane’s hands bury in Ilya’s curls and he tugs forcing Ilya to rest their foreheads together.
One of Shane's hands is still locked tight in the hair at the nape of Ilya’s neck while his other holds tight to Ilya's hip. "Ilyusha." He breathes looking at him through his eyelashes.
“Fuck.” Ilya groans as Shane slowly grinds their hips together. Ilya kisses him open mouthed, frantic, and messy; Ilya is probably developing a kink for Shane taking charge.
Eventually, when the want, heat, and hardness becomes unbearable, they break apart panting. “Bed?” Shane gasps his eyes are glassy and his pupils blown wide.
“Da.” Ilya says taking him by the hand and leading him to the bedroom “Sorry in advance if we are interrupted, sometimes she wakes up after an hour and needs to be held to go back to sleep.”
“I don’t mind I-I probably won’t last very long anyway it’s been a while.” Shane says.
“Same but we have time.” Ilya responds.
“Same?”