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Rose gives Shane a skeptical look as she brings a glass of wine to her lips, “What do you mean you don’t think you’re romantic?”
Shane rubs the back of his neck. It’s not that he doesn’t think he’s romantic…exactly. He’s been a boyfriend a handful of times, he thinks he’s good at it; he puts as much effort as he can into his relationships as he would anything else. He’s always thrived at being the best, so why should romance be any different? It’s just that…
“I mean I just—I feel like,” He lowers his voice even though they’re in a crowded bar that’s too loud, even though no one is paying attention to them, “I’m thoughtful, sure.” But him and Ilya are both like that? They know what the other likes, they take care in the small things, in something as simple as always having Doritos on hand for Ilya or Ginger Ales stocked in the fridge for himself. “I try to go out of my way if Ilya needs something? But I don’t think that’s…romantic.” It just is.
Rose smiles, shaking her head, putting her hand over her mouth. There’s something in her eyes, as if there’s a secret that she’s not sharing with him. “Alright, and not to say that’s not good enough? It is. But if you want to do something extra, a big gesture, I’m sure that’d be nice too.” She raises her eyebrows, “Rozanov seems to thrive in extra.”
Shane smiles a little, shaking his head. But maybe Rose has a point.
—
So he figures out a big gesture. He knows this isn’t really a researchable topic but he collects information anyways. He asks Hayden his advice, he talks to his mom, he spends the day getting the cottage ready while Ilya is at practice. And then he stands there, awkwardly in the middle of their bedroom, as he hears his boyfriend come home.
It takes a moment; he listens to the clattering of Ilya moving around, the sound of his feet shuffling through the kitchen and eventually up the steps, turning down the hallway and…pausing as he gets to the open doorway of their bedroom.
Ilya raises his eyebrows, “Do we own a flower shop now and you just never told me?”
Shane winces, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances around the space. And okay…fair. There are a lot of flowers in here. He’s got candles lit on the nightstands and on some of the mantels near the TV. On practically every surface, there’s bundles of flowers, especially on the bed. He wouldn’t say he…overdid it, but he just wanted it to be noticeable?
Apparently he’s accomplishing that.
“Uh, surprise?” Shane eventually says.
“So we do own flower shop.”
It’s not a question and Shane huffs because, “No, I—” He motions towards the bundles on the bed and picks one up, walking towards his boyfriend. Ilya, who looks a bit tired from practice, hair a bit damp, cheeks pink, and an amused smile pulling the corners of his lips. Shane’s stomach flips, “I just figured…”
Ilya hums, taking the bundle before leaning over to press a kiss to Shane’s cheek, “No one’s ever bought me flowers before. Or entire shop.”
And fuck, that alone convinces Shane this was worth it, even though he’s rolling his eyes. He’s about to say something else, maybe about joining Ilya in the shower, but his boyfriend is pulling the flowers away from his face and—
He lets out a harsh sneeze into his shoulder.
Shane blinks. “Are you—”
But then a second tumbles out, and a third and suddenly Ilya is shoving the flowers back at Shane and waving a hand in front of his face. Oh no. There’s another sneeze that sounds particularly painful and Shane quickly drops the flowers on the floor and closes the bedroom door,
“Jesus, bless you.” He touches Ilya’s back, rubbing between his shoulders.
Ilya groans, resting his hands on his knees to take a moment to breathe. Or try to, anyways. He’s really congested.
“C’mon, let’s go to the kitchen, get you something to help.”
They make their way there, Shane washing his hands and grabbing allergy tablets while Ilya blows his nose. “Yebat',” He mumbles.
Shane sighs, threading his fingers through Ilya’s curls before filling a glass with water, “Fuck, I’m sorry Ilya. I was just…”
“Trying to murder me?” Ilya asks, tossing his tissues in the trash. But he’s smiling at him, despite his eyes watering. He quickly takes the pill from Shane’s hand and sips his water.
Shane huffs out a laugh. In all his planning, the last thing he expected was for Ilya to be allergic to one of the flowers he got. Or maybe multiple? Out of everything he knows about his boyfriend, this is new on the list. He’s debating whether he needs to hire some sort of professional to make their bedroom liveable again since Ilya’s reaction to the flowers was so drastic. Maybe he’ll ask his parents for help. Maybe he’ll sink into the floor and disappear completely and that’ll be that.
He rubs one of his cheeks that feels like it’s on fire, “I was trying to be romantic.”
Ilya raises his eyebrows, staring at him a moment. “You were…”
Now the back of his neck heats, “Trying this whole romance thing?” He mumbles, “Yes.”
A slow smile breaks out on Ilya’s face, reaching for Shane by tugging on his shirt. He stumbles closer to him, huffing out a sound when Ilya begins kissing his cheeks, his chin, his jawline, “Romantika, romantika,” His voice is muffled by pressing into Shane, backing him up until his spine hits the counter, “You are ridiculous, Shane Hollander. Finally found something you are not good at.”
“Fuck you,” He replies but the words lack spite, far too affectionate at Ilya’s teasing. He smiles as he dips his chin, pressing his nose and lips into his boyfriend’s shoulder and breathing him in.
“Yes,” Ilya replies, tipping his head back, “I think so.”
Shane smirks, “Can you even breathe through your nose?”
“No, but you can.” He squeezes his hip, “Get on your knees.”
Shane nips at Ilya’s lower lip, kissing his jawline, his neck and down his chest as he sinks to the floor—it’s the least he can do.