Chapter Text
“Ilya! The music video is out!”
Shane ran into the living room, phone gripped tightly in his hand as he practically launched himself toward the couch. His face was lit up with pure excitement—eyes wide, a big smile spreading across his cheeks.
“I know,” Ilya looked up from where he was already sprawled on the couch. The remote sat in his hand, and the video was already pulled up on the TV screen. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but inside he was buzzing.
His husband’s fucking acting debut.
He had been waiting for this moment all week.
Shane had been incredibly stubborn about the whole thing—no teasers, no pictures, no social media clips, nothing. Ilya had complained plenty, but Shane wouldn’t budge an inch. He wanted Ilya’s completely raw, first-time reaction, and somehow Ilya had agreed anyway. (Mostly because turning Shane down was harder than it looked.)
Shane cuddled right up against him on the couch. Ilya wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer with a small squeeze. “Okay,” Shane said, still grinning. “Press play.”
Ilya hit play without another word.
The video opened with soft fog rolling across the screen and stylish title cards fading in. Laufey’s name appeared first in that elegant, pretty font. Then, right after it: Shane Hollander.
“That is my husband!” Ilya shouted, his smile breaking through immediately, big and proud. He pointed at the screen like Shane might miss it.
Shane blushed a little, shifting against Ilya’s side as he settled in. “It’s weird seeing my name like that. Feels official.”
The video continued by showing the girls entering through the door one by one, Alysa, Lola, Megan, each wearing unique outfits.
“The costumes are very nice,” Ilya stated.
Shane hummed in agreement and nestled deeper into Ilya’s side as the opening instrumentals started building.
When the music shifted and Laufey began singing, teacup held delicately in her hand in that dreamy outdoor setting, the camera slowly zoomed out. It revealed Shane sitting right beside her, also sipping tea. He looked effortlessly charming—sunglasses on, a bandana piece draped around his neck, and a simple tank top that showed off his arms.
Ilya hit pause almost instantly.
“The costumes are very nice,” he repeated, turning to look straight at Shane with a raised eyebrow.
Shane chuckled. “You already said that!”
“What the fuck, look at you.” Ilya leaned forward a bit, eyes locked on the frozen frame. He tilted his head like he was studying a painting. “The sunglasses, the… scarf thing—”
“It’s not a scarf, it’s a bandana.”
“Whatever it is! And the tank top—your arms look so good in it.” Ilya smirked, lightly squeezing Shane’s bicep. “I think I will force you to wear tank tops more often at home. Every day. Breakfast, dinner, workouts. All of it.”
“Ilya, we literally just started the video,” Shane complained, still chuckling as he gently swatted Ilya’s hand away. “Keep playing—”
“You look so fucking different,” Ilya went on, ignoring the protest for a second as he stared hard at the screen.
“In a good way?” Shane asked, his voice turning a little softer, almost curious.
“YES! Ilya shouted, enthusiasm bursting out as he gestured at the screen with his free hand. “In the best way. My responsible husband suddenly looks like this cool, sexy guy who owns the whole world. It’s… I don’t know. Very cute. And charming. And hot. Mostly hot.”
Shane’s laugh came out warm and easy. “You’re ridiculous. It was just one day of filming. I felt shy half the time.” His cheeks flushed a little deeper as he said it.
Ilya unpaused the video.
They managed about two more seconds before the camera tightened on Shane alone—him sipping the tea calmly, then raising his eyebrows with a sly little look.
Ilya’s thumb slammed the pause button again.
“Ilya!”
“Do you still have that scarf thing?” Ilya asked, completely undeterred as he leaned back into the cushions.
“It’s not called a scarf, it’s a—”
Ilya interrupted quickly. “Do you still have it?”
“No, why would I have it? It was just for the shoot.”
“Okay, we call them and ask for it back.”
“What?” Shane turned to look at him, eyebrows raised.
“I am obsessed. I have ideas. Good ideas.”
“Which are…?”
“It can be used as a collar maybe. We glam you up with it. It would look so fucking pretty when I am deep inside—”
“Not happening,” Shane cut in quickly, though his laugh softened any real sternness as he shook his head.
“Fine, fine. But we still need to ask for the collar. And the glasses. No—actually, the entire outfit. Everything. We make calls tonight. Important calls.”
“We’re never going to finish this video if you keep this up,” Shane sighed, reaching over to gently tug at Ilya’s hand on the remote. His fingers lingered there for a second. “Keep playing.”
Ilya restarted it with exaggerated care, making a big show of pressing the button slowly.
The scene shifted to the magazine bit—Laufey looking annoyed at the cover featuring Shane with another girl. Then it cut to Shane’s sly reaction, that dismissive little shrug like the whole thing was beneath him.
Ilya stopped the video.
“What now?” Shane asked, half-laughing as he adjusted his position against Ilya.
“Look at you,” Ilya teased. “Shane Hollander, a ladies’ man.”
“I’m literally gay. And married to you, remember?” Shane reminded him, poking Ilya’s side lightly.
“Yes, exactly. We should probably make that more public on social media,” Ilya went on, tilting his head. “You make a post—multiple posts. Just something simple. ‘Hey everyone, just a reminder I am still very happily married to my sexy Russian husband.’”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Yes you are.”
“No I am not.”
“Yes you ar—”
Shane reached over, grabbed Ilya’s hand, and pressed unpause himself, shaking his head with a grin as he kept hold of Ilya’s fingers for a moment.
The video rolled on with the best friends reacting dramatically. It widened to Laufey and Shane standing, arguing, and there were those short shorts on full display.
Ilya reached for the remote and paused it immediately.
“YOU ARE WEARING SHORTS.”
“Yes, I’m known to wear shorts sometimes,” Shane replied dryly, crossing his arms.
“No, Shane, you are wearing shorts.”
“Yes?”
“Shane. You are wearing shorts.”
“Ilya, you’re repeating the same sentence. They’re just some shorts.”
“No, this is not just shorts. They knew exactly what they were doing putting you in these.” Ilya gestured at the screen with his free hand. “Who is the costume designer? I think I need to buy them flowers. Chocolate. A ring. A house. Anything they want. They did the impossible—they made my boring, buttoned-up Shane wear something this sexy—”
“It’s not sexy.”
“Yes it is. And we both know it. I can see it in your smile right now. You are enjoying this, aren’t you? Watching me lose my mind?”
“Maybe I am,” Shane admitted as he leaned in closer. “A little bit. Now unpause—you stopped right at the good part.”
“I think I’ve already seen the best part,” Ilya said, voice low and teasing as he raised an eyebrow.
“Which part is it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Exactly.”
“Your favorite part is ‘yes’?”
“Yes.” Ilya replied as if that made perfect sense. Shane didn’t push, just laughed softly and shook his head.
Ilya finally unpaused the screen.
Laufey grabbed the fish and whacked Shane, sending him splashing into the pool. Both of them cracked up at the same time, the absurdity hitting perfectly. Shane reached out this time and paused it himself before the next scene started.
“You look good getting slapped with a fish,” Ilya said through his laughter, wiping at his eyes.
“Thanks? I guess?”
“Was a compliment, I think.” Ilya hesitated, thoughtful. “Or maybe not. I am still deciding.”
“Let me know when you decide,” Shane replied, still smiling as he nudged Ilya’s knee with his own.
They continued the video.
The next sequence started: Shane in the pool, wet, slowly peeling off his top. The reactions from Laufey, the waiters, and the best friends—all exaggerated awe at his body. Shane pulled himself out, abs and arms flexing, followed by that quick timelapse on his back muscles while the others kept staring.
Ilya stayed quiet this time, just watching with the exact same wide-eyed expression as everyone on screen. Shane glanced over, surprised and a little smug that Ilya hadn’t paused yet. Ilya looked like he could have been edited right into the video as one of the girls, mouth open in the same stunned awe.
Then Shane winked straight at the camera.
Ilya stopped the video. And said absolutely nothing.
“Ilya?”
No response. He just stared, fixated.
“Ilya?” Shane repeated as he poked Ilya’s arm.
Still nothing. Then Ilya rewound the video back to the start of the pool sequence without a word.
The whole thing rolled again—wet shirt off, the pull-up, the back muscles, the reactions. He stayed silent the entire time, then paused at the exact same wink.
“I have no words,” Ilya finally broke the silence. “You have broken me. I am broken.”
Shane dissolved into laughter, head tipping back against the couch as his shoulders shook.
Ilya started rewinding again.
“Ilya, we can’t just loop the same clips over and over.”
“Yes I will. It is research.”
“Research?”
“Yes. I am studying. Music theory. Film theory. Whatever theory. I am studying this music video very carefully. Taking detailed notes in my head. Very analytical.”
Shane’s gaze drifted down pointedly to the obvious bulge in Ilya’s sweatpants. “Not sure about your head taking notes, but something else definitely is.” He teased with a small smirk.
“You are enjoying this so much,” Ilya accused, but there was no heat in it as he glanced at Shane.
“A little.”
“More than a little. You know you look good. You know exactly what you are doing to me.”
Ilya played the sequence one more time. This time he let the video keep rolling after.
Shane blew a kiss on camera.
Ilya instinctively blew one right back.
Shane’s cheeks flushed bright red at that.
The video kept moving—Shane by the pool, Laufey chatting with the best friends, scattered shots of Shane with the waiters. Then the synchronized leg-cross from the girls, ending with Shane lounging relaxed in those shorts, abs and legs on casual display.
Ilya paused again.
“They couldn’t give you more clothes?”
“I thought you liked the outfits earlier.”
“No, I changed my mind. You look too sexy now. It is a big problem for me.”
“How is it a problem?”
“Because my schedule is already full—practices, games, recovery. I already fight hockey Twitter every day because they are obsessed with you. Now you bring in all their fans too. And more.”
“Whose fans?”
“The girls. I have to deal with four other fandoms on top of hockey. I am fully booked for the rest of my life fighting everyone off. I only have two hands.”
“I’m married, Ilya. And news flash—to you.”
“Yes, we need to put it in the news,” Ilya said lightly, shrugging. “Breaking news to everyone who has seen the madwoman music video, Shane Hollander is gay and married to Ilya Rozanov.”
“Ilya.”
“What? I need people to know.”
Shane shook his head, still smiling. “Just keep playing.”
The girls launched into their dance sequence. Ilya tried to follow along from the couch, doing the moves a beat or two late while seated. Shane watched him out of the corner of his eye, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud.
Later came Shane lounging in the pool with a drink in hand on a floatie. His entire body—arms, legs, thighs—everything on screen.
Ilya hit pause.
“Ilya!” Shane shouted, still smiling but with a warning tone as he sat up a little straighter. “Stop doing that! We’re gonna be here all day. We aren’t even halfway through the video at this rate.”
“I think I will die if you make me watch this without breaks.”
“What—”
“You are killing me. It is too much. I am broken. My husband is so sexy. My brain is not functioning anymore.” Ilya leaned back dramatically, hand over his heart. “How am I supposed to concentrate when you look like that? It’s unfair.”
Shane laughed and reached over to unpause himself, still shaking his head.
More dancing from the group. Ilya attempted the choreography again, still seated and delayed. Shane’s smile grew wider as he watched.
The video shifted inside—waiters dancing briefly with no Shane in frame. Ilya’s expression dipped just a fraction, missing his husband already. Then the camera panned to Laufey doing her makeup, and there was Shane in the background, suited up.
Ilya perked right back up, sitting a little taller.
Laufey lay down across Shane. Ilya tensed for half a second. Shane felt it and leaned over to pause the screen himself.
“You are jealous.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are!”
“Okay… yes, maybe. Maybe I am jealous of Laufey.”
“Again—I am gay. And married to you.”
“That is not the point,” Ilya argued, waving a hand. “I am not just jealous of her. I am jealous of everything in this video. I want to be Laufey. I want to be one of the waiters. Anything. I can act as a tree in the background. I do not care. Any casting at all. Why didn’t they cast me?”
“You probably could’ve done a better job than me—”
“No way. Impossible. No one could be better than you in this. I think all the real actors are suddenly looking for new jobs right now. Shane Hollander has made his big debut, and the whole acting world is panicking.”
Shane leaned toward the remote to unpause. Ilya gently stopped him with a hand on his wrist.
“Admit you are a good sexy actor and we can continue.”
“I’m not—”
“Okay. Then I guess we never finish the video.”
“You and I both know you’re going to finish it.”
“Yes, but alone. You will not get to see my live reaction.”
“Just play it.”
“Admit it. Admit you are a good sexy actor.”
“Fine. I am a good actor. Continue.”
“You missed a word.”
“I am a good sexy actor. Happy? Now play.”
Ilya unpaused for a second.
The shot changed—Shane with the prop cigarette, smoking.
Ilya pressed pause immediately.
“Ilya, I swear to god I’m gonna take the remote away from you.”
“They made you smoke?”
“It’s not real—it’s a prop. I’m not actually smoking. Isn’t that cool? The prop designer was telling me how they make the fake ones—”
“They made Shane Hollander smoke.”
“It’s not an actual cigarette.”
“You are smoking. On camera.” Ilya had an unreadable expression. “I did not think I would ever see that.”
“I can’t tell if you’re enjoying it or hating it.”
“I hate that I am enjoying how sexy it looks on you.”
“I won’t ever smoke an actual cigarette.”
“I do not want you to. That is exactly why I hate that I enjoy it.”
Shane smiled softly at the obvious care behind the words, reaching over to squeeze Ilya’s hand.
They continued.
The photoshoot scene came—Laufey and Shane, him on the floor in the tux. Ilya didn’t pause but murmured, “The suit looks very sexy on you.”
Shane just hummed in response, nodding a little.
Then it cut outside: Shane kneeling, proposing to Laufey.
“If I was not jealous before, I am definitely jealous now.”
Shane paused the video this time. “What?”
“You are proposing to someone else.”
“Ilya, it’s acting.”
“So?”
“What do you mean ‘so’?”
Ilya shrugged, still staring at the screen. “So it still looks real. And you look good doing it. Too good. Makes me want to propose just to remind everyone who you actually belong to.”
Shane let out a soft laugh. “You’re already my husband. No need for a redo.”
“Still. It would not hurt to do it.”
Shane unpaused the video. The best friends clapped. Laufey panicked and broke the prop. Everyone froze. Ilya himself sat frozen, brow furrowed in confusion as he leaned forward slightly.
They watched until Laufey got in the car and sped off.
“Why is she running away?” Ilya asked, clicking the button on the remote. Again.
“If we didn’t stop the music video every few seconds, maybe you would have a better understanding of what’s happening.”
“No, I do not get it. Why would anyone run away from a proposal by Shane Hollander?” Ilya sounded genuinely baffled. “It makes no sense. If you proposed to me like that, I would say yes right away. I start planning wedding immediately.”
“Ilya… have you been listening to the lyrics of the song at all?” Shane asked, glancing over at him.
“Um… yes?” Ilya replied, shifting in his seat, hesitant.
“Okay, tell me what the song is about, then.”
“Laufey is in happy relationship with a very nice sexy boyfriend…” Ilya tried, eyes drifting upward as he thought. “And her friends they’re all there to support her getting married?”
“I think you couldn’t be farther off.”
“Well, I am struggling to focus on anything except you. The song is good—I like the song. But the words are not staying in my head. I am broken.”
The video continued—Laufey driving, the road breaking into some dark void so she swerved and stopped at the edge. She got out and stood there, the shot lingering on her feet right at the brink.
Ilya paused.
“I am confused. What is the meaning here? Because I too would jump off into the void if I did not say yes to a Shane Hollander proposal.”
“Again—not the point. I think you might need to rewatch the whole thing. We’re too deep into the lyrics now for you to catch up like this.”
“Yes, of course I will rewatch. For the lyrics, obviously. Maybe more than once. I am Russian—my English is not so good with fast lyrics.”
They both knew it wouldn’t really be for the lyrics.
“Okay. Maybe we should pull up the lyric video instead of the music video next time.” Shane suggested, raising an eyebrow.
“No. That will not be necessary,” Ilya objected immediately, offended by the idea, shaking his head.
The final stretch played: Laufey heading back to the house, her friends waiting by the door with smiles. She opened it.
There was Shane, sitting casually, holding the prop cigarette, waiting for her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The video ended. Credits rolled softly.
Ilya let the silence sit for a long moment, then turned to Shane with a stunned grin. He pulled his husband fully into his lap, arms wrapping tight around him.
“My husband out here playing this charming man like it’s nothing.” Ilya shook his head slowly, a stunned little laugh escaping him. “The way you moved, the looks you gave, the way you acted… you were so fucking hot. That confidence, those shorts, completely different from who you are. I am shocked. You looked so sexy.”
Shane ducked his head, suddenly self-conscious, fingers twisting in the hem of Ilya’s shirt. “Would you… prefer me if I was more like that? Like the guy in the video?”
Ilya blinked, then cupped Shane’s face gently with both hands, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “No, solnyshko. I love you exactly the way you are.” He pressed a kiss to Shane’s forehead, then another to the tip of his nose. “The video was hot, but I want my cute, responsible, sexy, husband. This—” he squeezed Shane closer, “—this is the one I fell for. You are perfect like this.”
Shane let out a quiet breath, the tension melting as he tucked his face into Ilya’s neck with a shy smile.
They stayed tangled together on the couch for a while, the TV looping back to the beginning on low volume, Ilya gently stroking Shane’s back. The condo felt quiet and warm, the low hum of Laufey’s voice a soft backdrop to their breathing.
“I was serious, by the way. I want that costume designer’s number.”