Chapter Text
Ilya Rozanov wasn't usually a morning person, but on the rare occasion that he was- or on the even rarer occasion that his husband wasn't, he loved watching the cottage and the lake wake up around him as he made them coffee and breakfast.
He padded through the kitchen, humming as he flipped the coffee machine to brew and opened the fridge for eggs. As he came around the kitchen island, his foot hit metal, and something clanged loudly before soaking his feet.
God damn it.
"Shanya, I love you, but I do not love your cat." Ilya whispered, shaking water off his foot and leaning over the countertop for paper towels. This was the third time Ilya had knocked over the cat's water this week alone, and like everything else involving that small fluffy demon, was not up for debate.
Sure, he could understand that the cat and dog refused to share water. Anya was inexplicably scared of the tiny fountain, which was rich coming from her because his princess was capable of fiercely defending the porch from all manner of other animals. She drew the line at fancy water features, apparently. But Shane refused to put the fountain on the counter, because of some sort of opposition to "litter box paws going where we prepare food" and apparently the only other place the fountain could go was at the end of the island where Ilya liked to chart his morning course through the kitchen. But this was, as he had quickly found out, not up for debate.
Ilya finished mopping up the water, reset the fountain on its little mat, and poured some extra water in to top it off. Cat water crisis effectively managed, he turned to the coffee maker and pulled the carafe out to fill his mug. He ignored the dribble of coffee spilling and evaporating on the burner since he was the one who religiously cleaned and reset the machine every day, his husband had absolutely no reason to complain about his methodology.
Cream and sugar. Deep breath. Let Anya out. Keep the cat from escaping.
"Anya?" He asked, realizing she had not come out into the kitchen with him. When she didn't appear, he tiptoed back to the bedroom and poked his head inside to see if she'd crept under the blankets with Shane. His husband was sleeping peacefully, but there were no dog-shaped lumps in the covers.
A pang of fear ran through Ilya. Where had Anya gone? When had he last seen her? He should wake Shane, they needed to find her immediately.
Wait. No. Before panicking and waking Shane up, he would go check the garage. The door needed to be repaired because it would only close fully part of the time, and up until recently Anya had been able to use the dog door there. They'd gotten reports of increased aggressive wildlife activity, so they had used the dog door's electronic lock and tried to keep the garage door closed so Anya didn't get confused and try to go outside on her own without one of them there with her. The change had the added benefit of keeping Shane's cat from escaping, since that seemed to be its whole purpose in life besides plaguing Ilya.
It wasn't that Ilya hated cats, he just couldn't seem to believe Shane had picked this cat. Massive, grey, with a rusty meow that sounded as if the creature smoked more than Ilya did. But they had been at the pet store getting Anya's food a couple months ago, and Shane had been drawn to the wall of cages featuring various balls of fluff up for adoption. He'd gone straight to this cat, and laughed when he saw the name written on the cat's adoption clipboard.
"Ilya, look, his name is Puck. Like a hockey puck."
"He does not look like a hockey puck." Ilya had wrinkled his nose. Shane had been threatening to get a cat for a long time, and Ilya kept fending him off as long as he could. They already had one perfect child, why not another?
But Shane had stared at that cat, and the cat had meowed at him, and Ilya had realized that his husband would turn to him with those big, wet eyes, and ask him to buy him a cat. Ilya would refuse, Shane would beg, and they hopefully would leave without a cat because Ilya could sometimes stay strong in the face of his husband's pouting.
Except, Shane had turned on his heel and marched up to Ilya and declared with absolute confidence: "We're getting the cat."
"Sweetheart, shouldn't we talk about this?" Ilya had asked, blinking in absolute surprise as the conversation refused to roll out in the way he'd predicted. It wasn't even a conversation.
"Nope. I want that cat. You had your turn getting a pet without your husband's consent, now it's my turn."
"But sweetheart, we were not married yet..."
Ilya had been powerless to stop any of the events that followed, from filling out the adoption paperwork to getting another cart so Shane could pick out things like cat litter and scratching posts. Which he had done with the careful, relentless planning that he did everything else. Ilya had been absolutely run over by the force of his husband's determination to own this specific cat, and had been re-organizing his life, world-view, and morning routine ever since.
Shane insisted that Puck didn't hate Ilya, but there was very little evidence to the contrary. Hairballs only appeared near or on Ilya's possessions, needle-sharp teeth only sank into Ilya's ankles and wrists, and Puck only seemed to appear underfoot when Ilya had somewhere to be-
He stopped in his tracks, hand reaching for the garage doorknob and freezing. He hadn't seen the cat yet this morning either. Which, wasn't too concerning on its own. Cats were fucking weird, Shane's cat even more so. But with Anya missing too... Suspicious. And a little frightening. Okay, a lot frightening.
Ilya opened the garage door, and was immediately greeted by a frenzy of Anya's barks and whines.
"Hello, princess. Did you get locked in here? I'm so sorry." He cooed, kneeling down to run his hands over her flanks.
He immediately felt Anya trembling, and she whimpered softly, licking his face. Ilya continued checking over her, noticing the overwhelming smell of blood coming from somewhere. Fuck, did she get it on his face? His hands came away from her paws smeared with red and he quickly scrambled for the garage light, slamming the switch with more force than was probably necessary. He stifled a gasp as the garage winked into brightness.
Bloody paw prints littered the floor around his feet, stretching across the length of the garage to the door with the flap installed. Around the dog door was a mess of blood and chewed plastic. Anya's muzzle was flecked red, and she was scuffling her paws on the concrete, clearly in pain. Ilya swore, looking around. He should pick up the dog to get her off her injured paws, and he should yell for Shane. He reached out for Anya, but before he could grab her, the door behind him did the thing where it popped open at random, and Anya bolted, barking like mad.
"Anya!" Ilya groaned, running after his dog, knowing that she would immediately track blood over every surface in the house without any regard for how easily it could be cleaned.
Anya ran up to the glass wall, barking frantically and pawing at the patio door.
"Anya, Прекрати это!" He sprinted to the dog and grabbed her around the middle, looking around helplessly before seizing on her dog crate. They rarely used it, but it would at least keep her somewhat calm and contained. Ilya eased the wriggling dog inside, shutting the door and pulling the cover partway over to give Anya a sense of safety. She whined, but sat in her crate and panted.
Dog crisis somewhat contained (for the moment), Ilya had to get his phone and call the vet. Then he needed Shane, one of them would carry the dog to the car and the other would carry the crate. Another sip of coffee really wouldn't hurt as he flipped through his contacts for the emergency vet number. Shane would probably bitch about it, but cleaning the blood up would have to be a problem for later.
Ilya grabbed his coffee in one hand and began chugging it down as the call to the vet connected. He tried to calm his breathing a bit so he didn't sound like an absolute lunatic on the phone, looking out at the lake, and the deck and...
Oh no.
Oh no no no no.
Ilya's coffee cup smashed on the kitchen floor.
"Ilya, what's going on?" Shane's tired voice came from the hallway, followed by the soft sounds of his footsteps.
"Sweetheart, don't come out here!" Ilya flew to Shane and grabbed his shoulders, turning him away before he could lay eyes on what was on the deck. He continued pushing Shane back in the direction of their room, not caring that he was being too rough. The shades were still down, obscuring the view of the deck from there, thank god.
"What? What's happening, why's Anya-"
"Shane, I-" Ilya's voice caught in his throat and he let out a strangled noise. Shane's eyes went wide. Ilya pressed his eyes closed and took a deep breath. He was about to break his husband's heart.
"I think something happened to Puck. And Anya too. Maybe not the same thing though, she is in here, and I think he is... outside."
"Outside?" Shane asked, brow furrowing in still-sleepy confusion. "He's not supposed to go outside."
"I know, I know, sweetheart. But I saw something on the deck, and I'm worried... that..."
Shane gasped, eyes pooling. He stared at Ilya in horrified shock.
"I don't know for sure, and I will go look. I can't... let you see. If it's him, it's... it's not good, Shane."
"Oh my god." Shane covered his mouth, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath.
"Anya is also hurt. She got locked in the garage and I think tried to get back out through dog door. There is a lot of blood and I want to take her to the emergency vet. "
Shane nodded jerkily, and the motion caused the tears in his eyes to spill, tracking down his cheeks where there were still pillow marks fading into the skin.
"Stay here, okay? I will come back."
Ilya left his husband scrubbing at his tearstained face and hurried to the porch door, steeling himself against what he was going to see.
If the garage looked like a crime scene, the deck looked like a massacre. Blood and tufts of grey and black fur were everywhere, and a mess of paw prints tracking around... something lying on the deck. Ilya swallowed hard. He didn't like Shane's cat, but he would never wish this on anyone or anything. Whatever was lying on the deck had fought hard and lost, and there was so little left that it was impossible to identify. But the fur clinging to everything was grey...
Ilya rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to keep the tears back. How the fuck was he going to do this? How the fuck was he going to clean the remains of Shane's beloved pet off their damn deck and then break the news to his husband? Especially when checking on the animals before bed was supposed to be Ilya's job? He was the one responsible for making sure their whole family was safe and sound after dark, whether they were physically present in the same location or not.
He slowly made his way back inside. He needed his phone, and the rubber gloves from under the sink... Maybe a bag, or a box or... something to keep the remains in? He couldn't just... throw it away. That was monstrous. They would need to have a funeral or something, later, after they got back from the vet with Anya.
"Ilya?" Shane's broken voice came from the bedroom. "Is... is it him?"
Ilya slowly walked to the bedroom doorway, closing his eyes against what he knew he had to say and do next. As soon as he turned the corner and Shane saw the look on his face, he'd know. So after a quiet breath, Ilya walked into the bedroom. Shane was waiting, watching for him and chewing on his thumbnail.
"No..." Shane moaned, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. Ilya walked over and took Shane into his arms, pressing his mouth to Shane's hair and gently rocking him back and forth.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, solnyshko..." He murmured, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Oh god, he was just a little baby..." Shane sobbed. Had Ilya not been in the process of wiping his own eyes, plagued by guilt at his husband's grief, he would have laughed. The cat was neither little, nor a baby. Not by any definition of the words. But Ilya knew that was definitely a thought to keep to himself, so he continued trying to comfort his husband.
They were interrupted by Anya's loud whine from the other room.
"Oh fuck, you said Anya was hurt too. I should help take care of her." Shane mumbled, pushing Ilya away a little and wiping his eyes.
"I will bring her in here. You can call the emergency vet and let them know we are coming, yes?" Shane nodded.
Ilya started with two towels from the en-suite, knowing Shane wouldn't be able to tolerate having both dog hair AND dog blood on his comforter. His clothes would probably have to be written off as a lost cause though.
"Lay these over your lap." He said softly to Shane, laying them over his husband's legs. Then he moved to get Anya, keeping his eyes in front of him so he didn't have to face the deck again.
Anya wriggled and whined when she saw him, but with a few quiet words stayed calm enough that Ilya could carry her to the bedroom. When he gently set her down on Shane's lap she whimpered softly and kissed Shane's cheek.
"Oh, sweet girl." Shane squeezed his eyes shut against fresh tears. "You said she was in the garage again?"
Ilya nodded. "She tried to use the dog door and got stuck."
"I'm so sorry, baby." Shane buried his face in Anya's fur, holding her close. "I'm so, so, sorry."
"She is okay. After vet, we will stop at the store and get the things to fix the door. I will do it tonight." Ilya said, resting one hand each on Anya and Shane's backs. Shane nodded, face still in Anya's ruff. If it hadn't been so tragic, it would have been very sweet. But they needed to get Anya to the vet, and to do that, Ilya needed to address the situation on the porch as quickly as possible.
"Do you have the box from the new Reebok slides still?" Ilya asked.
"Yeah, in the closet, why?"
Ilya pushed the closet door open and got the box down, dumping the shoes and tissue paper out of it before shutting the door again. Fixing closet mess was added to the ever-growing list of problems for later.
"It's kind of small." Shane said quietly. Before, when he really tried to be the ringleader of North America's biggest asshole club, Ilya would have said something flippant. Now, he wanted to say something kind, but didn't know how to get around the brutal honesty playing through his head. Unfortunately Shane, his better half for nearly a decade and a half, could read what he was holding back in his eyes as easily as he could a hockey play in the first period of the game.
"Because there isn't much left. Right." Shane whispered. He closed his eyes and held Anya, shoulders shaking as he cried into her fur. Ilya quietly left him and went to the kitchen to gather the rest of the supplies. Gloves, plastic bag, paper towels, his phone and AirPods. Back outside. Deep breath.
Before he bent to his task, he connected his AirPods and dialed the one number he absolutely loathed having to call any time he actually had to do it.
"Rozanov, you better have a good fucking reason for calling me this early in the morning." Hayden Pike's voice blared down the line.
"Is important."
"Okay, start talking."
Ilya rubbed a hand over his face again, and put the gloves on.
"The fucking cat got out last night."
"Okay, and that has to do with me how...?"
"You are father, you have done this before with Mister Wiggles. How do I bury Shane's favorite pet?"
The line was silent for a moment.
"Oh my god, you killed his cat? I know it hated you, but fuck..."
"Pike!" Ilya snapped. "Be fucking helpful for once in your life. What do I do?"
"Sorry, sorry. Uh. Where are you right now?"
"Cleaning my deck."
"Oh. Oh shit, Ilya, I'm sorry for being a total dick. It's all over your deck?"
"All over. I have gloves, a trash bag, a box. We have to take Anya to the vet, but I think we will bury him after. I need your advice."
"Is Anya okay? Did she attack the cat?"
"No, I- Actually, I don't know. It's complicated. I hope not."
"Okay, I hope not too. So like you said my only frame of reference is Mister Wiggles the class hamster. And I guess I had a dog growing up too, but I was pretty young. You probably just want to put everything right into the box so it can decompose all together. The plastic will just complicate everything."
"Is supposed to be warm today, will the creatures outside disturb the box while we are gone?"
"Shit, good point. Maybe put the plastic around the box, or underneath it in case stuff soaks through? Put it in the garage while you're gone?"
"I should probably dig deep hole, so nothing digs it back up, yes?"
"Definitely. You can ask Shane if he wants to help dig, or if he wants to say anything. I bet the girls will draw up some pictures you can print and bury with him. Maybe add some of his favorite treats or some cat nip. You've been to a human funeral, just do the same things but with more of a cat theme."
"Okay. I can do all of this. Next question: I do not know how to get it off the deck. Is it disrespectful to his memory to use a Shovel? Paint chipper? Spatula?"
Hayden snorted. Ilya held in a bubble of hysterical laughter.
"If this wasn't one of the worst days of Shane's life, this conversation would be hilarious. Whatever you use, throw it out afterwards. Then use the hose or power washer on the deck."
"Okay. Please stay on the phone while I do this."
"Okay, weirdo..."
"The funeral advice was for Shane. This part... is for me."
"You want to tell me a memory or two while you do this? Or is it too soon?"
"I think telling you about how many times I knock over the stupid water fountain will distract me."
And it did. Ilya worked quickly, telling Hayden little anecdotes about the cat, like how he liked to lay in wait for Ilya at the bottom of the living room stairs and attack his ankles. How he curled up around Shane's neck like a fur muffler. How attached he became when Shane was home sick, watching him sleep like some sort of menacing guardian.
"Okay. I'm done." Ilya said, stripping off his gloves and striding over to the hose to turn the water off. The deck wasn't perfect, but it would do for now to get Shane and Anya to the vet. The Reebok box sat in its plastic bag, waiting to be taken to the garage.
"How are you feeling?" Hayden asked. He'd been pretty quiet while Ilya cleaned, offering a laugh or affirmation where needed.
"Like shit, Hayden. Worse. Like I need a cigarette. I had to keep Shane from seeing, had to tell him- fuck. I couldn't even tell him. He saw my face and he knew."
"Fuck. I'm so sorry. Tell Shane too, okay?"
"I will. Do you think I should ask if he wants to go pick out another cat?"
"If I know Shane, he's going to be too scared to get another one, at least not for a long time and you're willing to keep it exclusively in Ottawa. He's probably blaming himself right now."
"I know he is. It's just... He wanted this cat for so long, and Shane, he loved so hard in such a short time."
"Yeah. That's how it goes with animals."
"I need that fucking cigarette." Ilya sighed.
"Hang in there, man. Love you."
Any other day, Ilya would have found it insane (and hilarious) that him and Hayden Pike were exchanging 'I Love Yous" on the phone. But right now, he didn't have the capacity to give a fuck. He opened the outer door to the garage, cursing in surprise as the dog door flopped outwards, whacking him in the shins. Ilya paused and examined it. Anya had destroyed the plastic housing and the lock mechanism, which allowed the dog door to swing freely again. Which did not explain why she was still inside the garage when he found her, unless she thought she could get back in the house that way and the faulty door to the house prevented her.
Something metallic caught his eye, over by the tire of Shane's Jeep. He stepped around the bloody paw prints and bent to pick it up, stomach dropping the moment his mind connected what it was.
Ilya turned Puck's collar over in his hand, dried blood flaking off in his palms. Suddenly, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He set the Reebok box down before he dropped it in a very disrespectful manner, and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the panic and guilt away. Anya had never shown any interest in the cat, had never even growled at him. It was so out of character for her to do something like this...
"Ilya?" Shane's voice called through the house.
"Coming!" Ilya replied. He took a deep breath and stowed the collar in his pocket.
"What is it?" He asked, stepping into their bedroom. Shane was still sitting on the bed with Anya in his arms. He looked wrecked, but at least somewhat functional.
"I just wanted to ask you if you were sure this was Anya's blood. I don't think it is... At least, I can't tell where she's bleeding from. Unless it's maybe her mouth."
"Did you call the vet?"
"Yeah, they said to bring her in. They want to check her stomach and teeth for plastic shards."
Ilya held out his hand to their dog, and she politely gave him her paw to shake.
"Oh, she shakes? I was probably making her seasick trying to roll her over to look at her paws." Shane gave a watery laugh.
"She has a couple of broken nails, but I do not think it is serious. That is why I didn't rush out of here."
Ilya forced himself to look up at Shane, knowing what he was about to say was going to absolutely devastate his husband.
"I do not think it is all her blood. When I went to the garage just now, the dog door was open. Puck's collar was by the Jeep."
Shane didn't gasp. He didn't cry. Ilya almost would have preferred it. He bit down hard on his lip and just slowly looked down at the dog on his lap before squeezing his eyes shut.
"Come on Shane, let us go to the vet. If you drive, I will hold her."
Shane nodded again, jerkier this time. He loosened his hold on Anya so Ilya could bundle her into his arms, towels and all.