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It was July and both Shane and Ilya were on their offseason break. They’d come to the Hollanders place to do some camp paperwork and ‘boring legal things’ which Ilya’s attention span couldn’t handle.
He wandered between the dining room, where the paper work was laid out, and the living room where David was leant over a puzzle. He found himself stood by the puzzle more than the paperwork but came back whenever his name was mentioned.
He communicated in silence, pointing at the piece, and then the board, making David wink at him. He loved paperwork when it felt creative, or final. Health and safety guarantees surrounding kids and ice skates were not creative.
“If the parents don’t trust them on skates, don’t send them to hockey camp. Go to football or something soft” he complained putting his pen down.
The legal jargon was getting easier in English but he was very glad he had Shane and Yuna who understood it. The French was a different story. They fully lost him there.
“Ilya, need a signature, please” Yuna called from the table. “Only a few more, honey, it’s almost over” she promised.
He signed wherever she pointed and gave the pen back. He poked Shane on the shoulder for eye contact but he glared at him. He got very invested in important paper work, because well, one of them needed to.
“Wait, Ilya. We are busy right now” Shane gave him a pleading, fed up look. Ilya had learnt years ago - ‘you don’t come between Shane Hollander and rules’.
He pouted for a second but left the dining room anyway. He sat in the sofa, away from the puzzle and away from the noise. He checked his phone, which was empty because he’d warned everyone he was at the cottage. Everyone in his life knew better than to interrupt that.
“Did you see, Lundstrom traded to Chicago?” David made small talk, bringing Ilya out of his focus. He jumped at the voice.
“I did.. they need all help they can get” He shrugged. Even the offseason gossip was dry today. After putting his phone down, he closed his eyes for what felt like a couple minutes and woke up two hours later.
-
“Ilyusha? Can you hear me?” Shane spoke as he saw him wake up. He looked around. The puzzle was away, the paperwork was finished and everyone was huddled around him.
“Hmm? Sorry..” He mumbled, moving to lay his head in Shane’s lap.
“Don’t apologise, tired?” He frowned. All they’d done is fuck, eat and sleep, so Ilya shouldn’t be that tired.
He heard a soft “uh huh..” mumbled into his thigh.
“Wanna go home? Or nap in my room? You’re longer than the sofa. This can’t be comfortable, baby..”
Ilya looked up and saw Yuna and David’s concerned faces. They’d come over to do paperwork and.. He couldn’t remember the other thing. Had he missed it? He hadn’t helped on paper work and now he’d slept through their plans.
“Sorry..” He mumbled again, sitting up to lean his head on Shane’s shoulder.
“Let’s go home, it’s raining anyway so our walk can wait - right?” he looked at his parents who nodded.
“Of course, you two going to be okay?” Yuna expressed her worries before Ilya had woken up - that he looked feverish and had seemed down.
“I’ve got him. We refilled the med cabinet the other week after the food poisoning fiasco. Ready for anything now I think, got half a hospital in our cupboards” Shane joked making Ilya frown. How did he know? He remembered wanting to ask for medicine earlier but Shane was busy. Did he look sick? “Hey, hey why are we frowning?” Shane bowed his head down, so he could see him.
Ilya lifted his head and saw Shane imitating his face. His face softened as he received a kiss on the forehead.
“Up you get” Shane patted his ass to encourage him. “Thanks for having us Mom, I’ll send over the final passport scans tomorrow. We can reschedule everything else once we’ve gotten to the bottom of this” He pointed at Ilya.
He felt so insecure. Everyone talking about him, around him but he didn’t have the energy to correct or admit.
Yuna gave him a hug, feeling his forehead like a protective mother figure does. “Call if you need anything. Want my favourite son back to chatty by tomorrow kay?” She smiled at him, getting a half smile back.
Shane took his hand and dragged the half-asleep Russian into the Jeep. He turned the radio to silent, and reclined his seat a bit. “Baby, are you alright if I drive now? Will be 5 minutes till we’re home” He double checked, as Ilya was getting paler by the second.
Ilya nodded. “I’m fine..” he murmured and sank into the front seat.
Shane drove carefully, like usual, and kept a hand on Ilya’s thigh. “Wonder what’s gone on, hmm? Not like you to get sick in the summer” He mostly talked to himself as Ilya wouldn’t reply.
Shane opened his car door for him, and offered a hand to help him up. “Accept the help, Rozanov” he tilted his head, “you know you want to”
Ilya took his hand and followed him inside, straight upstairs to their bedroom. He wished it was under better circumstances.
“Sit” Shane ordered, and pushed his shoulders down till he was sat on the bed. He kicked his trainers off and felt his forehead. “Poor baby” He stroked his hair. “Tell me what’s wrong. Silent Ilya is.. scary”. He half joked. It was certainly unsettling.
Ilya looked up at him and rested his arms in his lap, picking at the skin on his fingers anxiously. “Just felt.. like I could get sick.. earlier but I didn’t have medication bottle so I tried to sleep it off.”
“Like puke sick? You should’ve told me I could’ve-‘
“I tried..” Ilya interrupted. “Didn’t want to ask David, is embarrassing. But I came to ask you..”
Shane frowned and held his hand, to stop him ripping his fingers till they bleed. “Oh honey, when you wanted my attention earlier? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blown you off so quickly. I should’ve known something was up when you weren’t chatty.”
Shane’s guilty face just made Ilya feel worse.
“My problem, not your fault” his hands migrated to his stomach again which was not feeling great.
“Do you think it’s something you ate?” Shane asked, trying to recall anything that would cause this. They’d eaten the same, since it was offseason and the bird diet was on pause. He felt fine, and Ilya was never the sensitive stomach of the pair.
Ilya shrugged but shook his head. “You’d be sick too”.
“I guess, been around anyone with Noro?”
“What is Noro?” Ilya looked up.
“Norovirus, like.. a stomach bug”
“Bug.. no, no bugs” Shane was inclined to agree. Unless he’d caught it at the supermarket, they’d been to the same places the last few days too.
He stroked Ilya’s hair out of his face. “Okay, well. Let’s keep an eye on it, kay? A shower might help. Or the bathroom?”
Ilya turned his face. “Shane..”
“What? I care about you. If your stomach hurts, it’s not a bad call. You can’t be embarrassed in front of me” He tipped Ilya’s chin up to meet his vision.
“Fine, but we don’t talk about it” He glared at him seriously. This was already embarrassing enough without having to discuss bathroom habits with his husband.
Shane raised his hand in a surrender. “I’ll be downstairs. Get yourself changed into something more comfortable, brush your teeth and wash your face and come downstairs when you’re done” He kissed Ilya on the mouth.
“Don’t.. you’ll get sick” Ilya turned his face away.
“Too late, you know that. Go to the bathroom” He reminded as he left the bedroom.
Ilya raked his hands through his hair and rubbed his eyes. He knew his husband was right, but he hated to admit it.
Shane’s body always worked perfectly. This was definitely because he fuelled himself correctly and didn’t mess with McGriddles, RedBulls and espresso shots. Ilya was jealous, but could never care about nutrition. He regularly suffered the consequences.
He got up and did everything Shane suggested. He brushed his teeth, washed his face and combed his hair back. He did feel better from freshening up. He knew Shane would be listening out so, in an attempt to push the conversation, he flushed the empty toilet as he left. It was sneaky, but he wanted to keep some dignity.
“Better?” Shane asked as he spotted him coming down the stairs in pyjamas. “You’re not as pale as you were in the car. I was really worried for the state of my footwell at one point”.
“Better. Feel more awake. Sorry we had to come back..” he exaggerated the truth. He felt the same, but cleaner. Less ‘just woke up’ and more ‘worst Sunday afternoon ever’.
“Don’t apologise. I’ve made you something to eat, and found the Pepto. It’s the liquid version, should help settle whatever is going on. Did you..” he trailed off, as Ilya’s head flew up.
“You said no talking about it”
“Ilya stop being so proud. We’re married, for gods sake. It can seriously nauseate you if you’re not-“
“I am fine, thank you for asking. I’m trying not to puke for reasons not aligned to what you keep bringing up. Thank you Dr Hollander” he snapped and sat on the bar stool with his head in his hands. He reached for the Pepto and swallowed it like a shot.
Shane sighed. “Alright, stubborn. Will you eat?” He slid the plate toward him. Toast with no butter, but some banana. No dairy if you’re nauseous but this should help.”
He looked at it, pretty disgusted. “Canadian food so boring.”
“I’ve ordered the ingredients I need for your borscht dinner already. Will you please eat boring Canadian food before I give you soup? You need something, you slept through lunch”.
Ilya looked up. He took a breath. He knew he was being whiny and annoying but he couldn’t help it.
“You-you’re making borscht?”
“I learnt the recipe after the food poisoning. You asked for it at 2am one night and I didn’t have a clue what it was.. You deserve your home comforts too. You know every trick in the book to make me feel better. I want to understand you”.
The honest, pretty desperate look in his eyes was sharp.
Ilya nodded, gentle, like he was forcing his emotional barriers down. “I’ll help you understand. I-I’ve not had people take care of me for.. for long time” his voice broke a little thinking about the last time.
Sure, he had Cliff for bad hangovers in Boston and Sveta would come over to talk some sense into him on his low days. He had Wiebe now, who could tell if he didn’t sleep well, if he was stuck in his thoughts, if he was on day 2 of a hangover.
Shane had cared for him a couple times, mostly when they were both as down as each other. All of Shane’s attention being on him, and the tone in his voice felt new. The last time he remembered this tone, this look, his touch was the stomach bug of 2002 - when his Mama was still around to fawn over him.
Shane wrapped his arms around him. “You’ve got me. You don’t need to lock me out”.
Ilya sat up a bit and covered his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I like wet cloths on my head during a migraine. I like silence if I’m nauseous. Borscht is the only thing I can eat when throwing up.. Vodka in the morning kills a cold. The light blue gatorade, or standard lucozade, is the only thing I can drink on a hangover. Not even water. Especially not gross Boston tap water…” He shuddered at the thought of it. “I’m allergic to paracetamol, and latex but .. you know that already. I don’t like taking pills, reminds me of Mama. Liquid medicine is fine, or injections. I usually need an IV for a fever. My body doesn’t like to regulate it. The.. staff at Ottawa General know this, they’re very nice”.
He rambled a bit. He looked at Shane. “You took notes?” he spotted the pen and the back of an old receipt.
“Of course I did. I’ve been married to you 8 years and didn’t know you were allergic to paracetamol?”
Ilya shrugged. “Not important. Discovered latex early enough”
“Death by condom, honestly makes sense for you”
Ilya laughed through his nose, and reached his hand to Shane. “You know exactly how to look after me. You didn’t need all that. I am bad at.. accepting help.”
Shane nodded, taking his hand and playing with his wedding ring. “You are, but I get it. I am bad at offering help. I’m new to this too..”
Ilya shook his head. “You’re a natural. You’ll be a great daddy one day” he smiled. “My father didn’t care. Common cold or appendicitis, I was on the ice”
“Please tell me he didn’t actually make you play with an appendicitis” Shane’s face dropped.
“Only Junior Worlds.. Gold medal?”
“You are crazy. You could’ve died.” He shook his head in disbelief. He’d been beaten by a teenager with appendicitis.
Ilya shrugged. “I’ll eat your toast, I’ll sit under your fluffy blanket and watch your boring quiz shows and we can take it easy, kay?”
Shane smiled. “Get comfortable, I will beat you at Family Fued.”
“I’m sick, doesn’t count.” Ilya pouted, moving to the sofa.
Ilya was freakishly good at quiz shows. They watched hours of day time TV, something they typically don’t get time or don’t allocate time to do. Even if Ilya didn’t know the word in English, he beat Shane hand over fist at general knowledge.
“How are you so smart?” Shane moaned once Ilya’s score became double his own.
He smugly shrugged. “And this is an off day, imagine in Russian, when I don’t feel sick.”
As the day progressed, Ilya got quieter and less involved in jokes and TV commentary.
“Solnyshko?” He looked up gently, “More pepto please..”
“Feeling sick again?” Shane asked, subtly moving the bucket closer to his side of the sofa.
Ilya thought about lying but just nodded instead. “It’s not good..”
He brought over the bottle and let him shot another cup of the medication. He got a wet flannel for the back of his neck and turned the TV volume down. Ilya eyed him a bit, watching everything he’d listed happen magically around him.
He sat, still and silent until it got too much. “I’m scared” he whispered.
“Scared why? I’m here, you’re okay. You’ll feel better if you get it out I think..”
Shane had discovered his husband’s fear of all things vomit pretty early on. Shane suggested a tactical puke backstage at the NHL Awards one year and Ilya looked at him like he was crazy. He would do anything to avoid the act.
He drank bottles of Pepto, changed his breathing to slow and controlled and counted as many NHL players as he could in his head until he was thinking of anything else.
He’d had to face his fear a few times.
The Great Concussion™️ as the press called it had him throwing up water for days. He was playing for Boston at the time, so to make matters worse, he was alone in Utah while his team continued their roadie.
The food poisoning last month was the first time Shane had witnessed it. The way his whole body shook, the way he couldn’t open his eyes, the way he fought it until the final second.
Shane had a suspicion it was trauma related. Seeing his Mama’s overdose blamed as accidentally choking on vomit can’t have set him up for a healthy relationship with it. He didn’t push. He was truthfully too busy in their other bathroom to assist last month, but he was ready to comfort him today.
Ilya shook his head quickly. “Won’t be sick. I can keep it” he almost convinced himself before his stomach heaved without permission.
Shane grabbed the bucket from the floor and put it in his lap. He pulled Ilya’s fringe back and held the cold cloth in place.
“Let it happen baby it’s so so much easier if you don’t fight it.. I’m here nothing scary or bad is going to happen. It’ll all be over so fast”
He kept talking between the inevitable gags.
“Please go away” he mumbled, accent stronger than Shane had ever heard.
“I’m not leaving you like this, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about” Shane rubbed long lines down his back and kissed his ear.
Ilya’s body shivered before he brought up the first round. It was messy, mostly food and tinted pink from the fresh medication. Shane winced a bit, knowing how hard his stomach was working to bring this up.
“You’re doing so well, you’ve got it..” He kept talking quietly, not wanting to overwhelm him but not wanting him to feel alone.
Ilya reached for Shane’s hand and squeezed it so tight. He went back to naming players but out loud this time.
“Gretzky, Hunter, Graham, Haas, Celebrini, Marleau,..” He trailed off but Shane recognised the pattern. He got to about 40 before Shane started adding more names into the mix. It distracted him well. Ilya listened and added when he could think of some until the nausea had passed.
“Boizeau, Pike..”
“Don’t mention Pike, I’ll vomit again” Ilya joked, wiping his face.
Shane laughed and kissed his forehead. He put the bucket on the floor. “All over.. see? Not the end of the world. How do you feel?”
Ilya did a review of his body. “Like I’ve been run over by a zamboni and shoved into the boards by a man 3x my size.”
Nodding, Shane felt his forehead. “Fever still not worrying me. I’ll keep an eye on it incase you need an IV tomorrow. Wanna go freshen up?”
Ilya thought about it and stood up slowly. “Mouth tastes gross.”
“It will do.. nothing toothpaste can’t disguise. Just be careful and slow with it. It’s quite a sudden taste if you’re not 100%.”
Ilya nodded listening to him seriously. He brushed his teeth and washed his face once again before looking around.
“C-can you give me a minute?” Even as flushed and pale as he currently was, Shane could tell he was blushing.
He obliged. “I’ll be in the living room, call me if you need me.” He kissed again and left him.
What happened next was humbling. Perhaps Shane was right, although he’d never tell him. He came back into the living room looking sheepish and wooden.
“Alright?” Shane asked, not recognising the look on his face.
“I-..” He tried and failed to start his sentence a few times. He sighed and just closed his eyes. “I can’t”
Shane nodded. “Right, I see. Since when?”
Ilya avoided eye contact, absolutely mortified.
“Tuesday? Before practise?” He thought about it. It was Friday night.
“I can give you medicine or you can have chia seeds in some yogurt now, and I’ll add lentils and beans to the borscht later. Which would you prefer?”
“Second option” He said quickly. Nobody could pay him enough to take that medication.
Shane preferred that option too, and came back with vegan yogurt with flaxseed and chia seed pudding on top.
“This should help pretty fast, especially since you’re empty. But don’t rush it. I think you were sick because you’re.. blocked. Rather than ill. You’ll be okay soon, baby.”
Ilya winced at the taste. He hated health foods but he begged the Gods to let this fix him.
He finished the small bowl and laid back down, head in Shane’s lap.
Shane rested his hand on Ilya’s stomach and over the next 30 minutes started gently poking, which became rubbing and massaging.
He looked down and Ilya was asleep, some colour in his face and he felt less sweaty.
Shane’s phone lit up so he checked it.
Mom 🩷:
How’s Ilya? Poor kid didn’t seem right at all. Call if you need anything. We have everything you could need and your Dad can bring it over xxx
He smiled, proud that he’d (almost) fixed his husband all by himself.
Shane:
He’s okay - asleep in my lap. Have you ever watched a quiz show with him? Dangerous opponent.. He threw up but we’ve found cause of the issue. He’ll be okay in the morning xxx
As he finished typing, Ilya started to stir in his lap.
“Detka? Ilyusha? Are you awake?” Shane knew he was laying it on thick with the babying but he couldn’t help it.
Ilya lifted his head and hummed a bit. “Da.. I need..” he touched his stomach lightly.
Shane understood, helping him up.
“My body aches so bad..” he stretched a bit. Sofa naps and hockey players don’t mix well.
“I’ll give you a massage later. Be good as new this evening, kay?” Shane kissed and let him go.
Ilya came back 30 minutes later, having showered after to feel human again.
“Whatever you did it worked.. I never want to do that again” He wrapped his arms around his now, less bloated stomach and plopped onto the sofa.
Shane smiled and wrapped him up. “I’m glad I could help. I’m glad you let me help” He gave him a kiss.
Ilya smiled a bit. “Never mentioning this again.”
He nodded. “Never mentioning the importance of fibre to my fully grown adult husband ever again.”
“Shhh..” Ilya whined and rested his head on Shane’s chest.
They made it through the night with only one bathroom trip and a couple of embarrassed apologies. Once the morning arrived, he was fine.
Ilya opened the iPad to play a game and found a new note called “Lily Ilya 🌸”. He clicked it and it was a detailed guide on how to keep himself alive. Everything he’d told Shane. Everything that had ever upset his stomach, made him sneeze, upset him in a movie.
- Marley & Me, and all movies where dogs die
- Laundry detergent with pink logo (itchy)
- Taco Bell in general (bad stomach)
He felt mortified that someone knew him to this level, but also weirdly impressed. He sat back and read it all. It was all correct.
He thought about whether he could do the same for Shane.
- Only wears Nike workout shorts - the rest are too long.
- Won’t eat Twix bars in full - superstition about losing the cup
- Doesn’t like TV when hungover, only YouTube compilations with animals with strange friendships.
He knew that stuff because he loved him. And Shane knew the same because he loved him back.