Chapter Text
Ilya Hollander Rozanov was not nervous.
He was just pacing back and forth for the past fifteen minutes, considering, quite reasonably, running away.
Which, honestly, made sense.
A week ago, he couldn’t even chew properly. Three days later, he was surviving on ice cream and bad attitude. Two days ago, Shane had dragged him to a dentist who told him he needed his wisdom tooth removed.
And apparently, today was the day.
“Ilya,” Shane said, without raising his voice, “it’s just a dentist.”
Ilya stopped, turning slowly. “Exactly.”
Shane bit back a smile as he rested a hand over his five-month belly, as if that might help him keep his composure.
It didn’t help much.
“You play professional hockey,” he continued, tilting his head. “You’ve lost teeth before.”
“That was in battle,” Ilya shot back immediately.
“That was against Minnesota last month.”
“It’s the same thing.”
Shane actually laughed this time, the sound light enough to pull Ilya back toward him. He stopped in front of him, still wearing that suspicious expression, but already reaching out without thinking twice.
His palm settled against Shane’s belly like it belonged there and, his thumb began a slow, absent-minded motion.
His expression softened, despite himself.
“Is he okay?” Ilya asked, quieter now, without moving his hand.
Shane raised an eyebrow. “You know we don’t-”
“I know,” Ilya cut in quickly, frowning. “But him.”
Shane let out a soft laugh, covering his hand with his own. “Everything’s fine, Ilya.”
Ilya watched him for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether to believe him. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Because it would be kind of ironic,” he started, his voice turning more serious as his hand pressed lightly against Shane’s belly, “if I died today and never got to meet my own-“
“You’re not going to die getting a wisdom tooth removed,” Shane interrupted, flat.
Ilya frowned. “You can’t guarantee that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Based on what?” he insisted, crossing his arms reluctantly but not stepping away.
“Science,” Shane replied, shrugging, “and the fact that I refuse to raise three kids on my own.”
Ilya blinked. “Three.”
Shane shrugged again, like it was obvious. “We’re counting you.”
Ilya opened his mouth to respond, but a voice called from across the room.
“Ilya Rozanov?”
The receptionist.
Ilya froze.
Shane didn’t even try to hide his smile as he leaned slightly, nudging Ilya’s knee with his own. “That’s you,” he said, giving him a small push.
Ilya didn’t move.
The receptionist looked between them, patient. “Mr. Rozanov?”
Ilya frowned slightly, still not moving. “That might be me,” he said slowly. “It’s a very common name.”
Shane laughed under his breath, already shaking his head. “Go.”
Ilya let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face before finally taking a step - only to stop again, turning back to Shane with a seriousness completely disproportionate to the situation.
Shane noticed immediately.
Not by his expression, by the scent.
Anxiety, strong and unmistakable.
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
A grown alpha like that, panicking over a wisdom tooth.
“Rozanov,” Shane said, softer now, tilting his head until he caught his attention. “Look at me.”
Ilya looked, still tense, still suspicious.
“You’re going to go in, lie down, fall asleep,” Shane continued, raising his free hand and counting on his fingers like he was explaining it to a child. “And when you wake up, I’ll be right here.”
Ilya narrowed his eyes. “And if I don’t wake up?”
“I’ll be very annoyed with you.”
Ilya didn’t laugh, but he clearly considered it.
“In the meantime, I’m going to pick up Louise and Mila from school,” Shane went on, gesturing vaguely, “bring them here and-”
“No.” Ilya cut him off immediately, straightening. “You’re not driving.”
Shane blinked. “Yes, I am.”
“You’re pregnant,” Ilya insisted, frowning.
“I know,” Shane replied. “I was there when it happened.”
Ilya ignored that completely. “You shouldn’t be driving alone.”
“I drive every day.”
“That doesn’t mean you should.”
Shane crossed his arms, already smiling. “You’ll be sedated.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you-”
Shane grabbed his shirt before he could finish, cutting him off with a quick kiss.
An infallible tactic.
When he pulled away, Ilya still looked a little dazed, but this time, it wasn’t fear.
“I love you,” Shane said simply, still too close.
And for Ilya, that was enough.
He muttered something in Russian, low and clearly dissatisfied, but he was already giving in, running a hand over his face like he was trying to pull himself together.
“Mr. Rozanov?” the receptionist called again, a little firmer this time. “The doctor is waiting.”
An assistant appeared just behind her, glancing between them, clearly trying to understand the delay.
Ilya hesitated for half a second.
Then he looked at Shane.
He took a little longer than necessary, his eyes moving over his face like he was trying to memorize it.
“I’ll be back,” Shane said, like he needed to make it certain.
Ilya nodded, still looking at him for a second longer before finally turning and heading down the hallway.
Shane watched him until he disappeared from sight, letting out a quiet breath as he adjusted in his seat, his hand moving automatically to his belly.
Then he stood up slowly - he still needed to pick up the girls, come back, and probably catch Ilya at the worst part of the anesthesia.
He was already passing the hallway door when he glanced inside one of the rooms.
Ilya was there.
Lying down, clearly uncomfortable, talking with his hands while someone next to him tried to prepare everything.
Shane let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Cute.”
🦷
The school parking lot was as busy as always, cars double-parked, kids running around, backpacks bigger than they were bouncing behind them.
Shane pulled over and waited.
Mila showed up first, as always, practically running, her backpack slipping off her shoulder and her blonde hair flying. Louise came right after, calmer, but her blue eyes already searching.
They both reached the car at the same time.
Mila opened the door without waiting, and Louise got in from the other side, organized as ever.
Shane barely had time to say hello.
“Where’s Papa Ilya?” Mila asked, already leaning between the seats.
“It was his day,” Louise added, frowning in a way that looked exactly like Ilya.
Shane started the car before answering, pulling out slowly. “He’s at the dentist.”
The two of them went quiet for a second.
Processing.
“Why?” Mila asked. “Did the tooth fairy not come get his tooth?”
“Something like that. He spent the whole week complaining his tooth hurt, and the dentist said he needed help,” Shane replied, turning onto the street.
Louise crossed her arms. “So now he’s fixing it.”
“They’re going to pull it out?” Mila asked, her voice quieter now.
Shane bit back a smile. “They are.”
“Like… pull it?” Louise insisted.
“Exactly.”
Mila made a face, clearly horrified. “Is there going to be blood?”
“Will there be a hole?” Louise added immediately.
Shane let out a soft sigh, but the smile slipped through anyway. “You two are not helping.”
“But will there?” Mila pressed.
“A little,” he admitted, turning another corner, already heading back to the clinic. “And then it gets better.”
Louise went quiet for a moment, staring out the window.
“Was he scared?” she asked, softer now.
Shane thought for a second, smiling. “A little.”
Mila’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Don’t tell him I said that.”
The drive felt shorter than it should have, and Shane only realized it when he parked, turning off the engine while the two of them leaned forward again, curious.
“Is he done already?” Mila asked.
“Probably,” Shane said, opening the door. “But that doesn’t mean he’ll be normal.”
Louise frowned. “What does that mean?”
Shane walked around the car, opening the back door to help Mila with her seatbelt. “It means he might say weird things, and we can’t laugh at him.”
Mila grinned immediately, leaning forward again. “Like what?”
“Anything.”
Louise frowned, crossing her arms. “Papa doesn’t say weird things.”
Shane closed the door and looked at her for a second, one corner of his mouth lifting. “You’ll see.”
The cool air of the clinic greeted them as soon as they walked in - too clean, too quiet.
The same receptionist was behind the desk.
She looked up, recognizing Shane immediately, and smiled.
“Good afternoon again, Mr. Rozanov,” she said, before glancing past him, her expression softening even more when she saw the girls. “These must be Louise and Mila.”
Shane frowned, surprised enough not to hide it. He didn’t remember mentioning their names.
The receptionist noticed.
“He talked about them quite a bit before the surgery,” she explained, resting her hands on the counter. “Said he couldn’t die without seeing them go to college… or without meeting the new baby.”
She let out a soft, almost conspiratorial laugh.
“Made us promise too, even in Russian.”
“He thought he was going to die?” Mila asked before Shane could answer, eyes wide.
Louise turned to Shane immediately. “Dad, you let him think that?”
Shane let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t. He decided that on his own.”
“That’s kind of dramatic,” Louise concluded, with that same irritating certainty.
“Extremely,” Shane agreed.
Mila still looked impressed. “Did he cry?”
“Almost,” the receptionist murmured, like she was sharing a secret.
Mila shook her head, disappointed. “Papa.”
The receptionist bit back a smile, clearly trying to stay professional. “They’re just finishing waking him up,” she said, gesturing lightly down the hall. “You can go in.”
Shane nodded, resting a hand on each of their backs to guide them.
“Remember what I said,” he said quietly as they walked. “No laughing in his face.”
“I’m not promising,” Mila replied immediately.
Louise said nothing, but the corner of her mouth was already twitching.