Work Text:
(Beginning of video description)
‘Okay, hi, Tik Tok people!’ Shane waved a little, then put his arm down hesitantly, as if trying to decide if waving was weird or not. ‘So, I’m here today to do the “current husband” prank on my husband, Ilya. Uh, Harris, the one running the Centaurs’ accounts on social media, gave me this ide– Or, well, he told me I had to do this because it would be “hilarious” and “well deserved”.’ Shane air quoted as he went, eyes flicking from the camera to whatever was behind it.
Shane cleared his throat. ‘So I will be doing that prank on Ilya today and I guess record the interaction. I just need to find him first. Hold on.’
The video next cut to a clip of Shane starting to record again. He was laying on what’s assumed as his and Ilya’s bed, wearing a black Centaurs sweatshirt, chewing on the strings. He had the hood pulled over his head but his clearly damp hair was sticking up a little from where it got free from the pressure of the hood.
A large, tan muscled arm appeared in the frame, grabbed the strings Shane was chewing on and pulled them out of his mouth, setting them down gently on his chest.
Shane shuffled with the phone a bit before Ilya came into view, grinning from ear to ear, wearing a matching Centaurs sweatshirt, although his had the strings chewed and frayed from the ends. ‘Hi Tik Tok,’ Ilya exclaimed happily, waving a little to the camera before wrapping the arm around Shane and pulling himself closer until his and Shane’s cheeks were nearly touching.
‘Ilya, can I have personal space,’ Shane ‘complained’ (he’d never actually mean it as a complaint). Ilya shook his head, pressing a wet, sloppy smooch onto Shane’s temple. Shane grimaced as his free hand, the one not holding the phone, came up to wipe the spit from his temple.
Ilya made a shocked face. ‘Moy lyubimyy, what did you do!? You wipe away my kiss, do you not love me anymore?’ Ilya leaned even closer to the camera at that, if that was even possible. ‘Internet, do you see how badly my husband treats me?’
Shane rolled his eyes and placed a palm onto Ilya’s face, pushing him back away from the camera. Ilya licked Shane’s palm in retaliation, his tongue appearing from between Shane’s fingers a few times. Shane didn’t react, just placed the phone somewhere stable where both he and Ilya were in view.
Ilya settled nicely against Shane, tucking himself under his arm with a smile, looking up at Shane with puppy eyes..
‘Hey, internet, today I’m here with my current husb–’ Shane was cut off by Ilya pulling back from Shane with a look of utter perplexity. His hand came up to his heart, clutching the crucifix hanging there into his fist as he just looked at Shane for nearly half a minute.
Shane tried to keep a collected, confused face, looking at Ilya as if saying ‘what?’ but the corner of his mouth visible to the camera twitched up a few times the longer the silence stretched.
Finally, Ilya said something. ‘C-c-current? What do you mean, moy lyubimyy, solnyshko, moy dorogoy, the light of my life, the reason I breathe? Current?’ Ilya’s voice held the dramatic, hurt, and vulnerable tone only found in professional actors.
‘What’s wrong?’ Shane’s answer was accompanied by a slight chuckle. Ilya made a grand gesture of wiping a ‘tear’ from his eye before he jumped up and off the bed. There were loud footsteps heard in the background as Shane made eye-contact with the camera and grinned wide. ‘Oh my God,’ he whispered, holding back his laugh.
Ilya returned very soon. Shane flipped the camera to him. The screen panned on a frantic Ilya flipping through The Oxford Dictionary. He found the page he was looking for relatively soon considering the size of the book. He pushed it towards Shane, and consequently the camera, finger tapping on the word ‘current’. ‘This word here, this you mean, my Shane?’ Ilya’s voice was still both devastated as well as confused, which only made it more hilarious. Ilya was known for dramatics, after all.
Shane nodded, ‘yes, that one. “Current”, that’s what I said. My current husband, Ilya Rozanov.’
Ilya pulled away from the camera, starting to read the definition out loud. ‘Here, this is what you mean, then? “Current, existing or occurring now; at this time; present.”’
‘Oh my God, Ilya. Yes, current.’ Shane tried to hold back his laugh as Ilya began his theatrics again.
Ilya fell to his knees in front of the bed, hands reaching for Shane’s feet. ‘Shane, are you replacing me? Moy lyubimyy, oh, my heart, it cannot take this.’ Ilya clutched his chest again, leaning down to attempt to place a kiss onto Shane’s foot before Shane pulled it away.
‘No, Ilya, no. That is my foot.’ Shane pulled his other foot away as well. Ilya climbed into the bed, looming over the camera Shane was holding that was now mostly zoomed in on Ilya’s face.
Ilya’s eyes flicked to what could be assumed as the camera. ‘Why are you recording, moy dorogoy?’ Ilya’s eyes flicked over the camera quickly, his expression the picture of confusement.
Shane gave in, bursting out laughing as he tried to explain through his laughter. ‘It’s a prank, Ilya. Harris suggested it, it’s a Tik Tok trend.’
Ilya’s face scrunched up. ‘A prank. I am not only “current” husband to you, then?’
The camera shook as Shane giggled, trying to hold it steady to capture Ilya on video. ‘You’re my only husband, now and forever. What, you doubt me?’ Shane added a hint of teasing into his tone.
Ilya suddenly grinned wide, lounging at Shane like a hungry predator to prey. The camera fell to the floor, the only thing visible being the white roof. The video continued for a little longer before cutting off, the only sounds in the background being Shane’s laughing and Ilya speaking in Russian, minus a final line from Ilya in English at the end right before the video cut.
‘Who put you up to this, malysh? Fifteenth best Montreal player? Huh?’
(End of video description)
Shane rolled off of Ilya with a drawn out groan, exhaling deeply as he slumped onto his back on the bed. Ilya heaved heavily beside him, hand thrown over his forehead.
‘God, Malysh, you have killed me,’ Ilya remarked through shaky breaths.
Shane chuckled lightly. ‘Are you still mad about the prank?’
Ilya rolled over to face Shane, and Shane turned his face to face him. Their noses ended up almost touching, their breaths ghosting over each other’s faces. ‘I was never mad,’ he admitted.
Shane made a scandalised face. ‘Ugh, Ilya! I fucking gave you a blowjob and I rode you through two orgasms to make it up to you! What do you mean you never even were mad?’
Ilya just grinned. ‘I wanted to fuck you, and you offered to ride me so nicely I could not say no.’
Shane rolled his eyes and groaned, grabbing a loose pillow and stuffing it in Ilya’s face. ‘Shut up, oh my God. You’re such an asshole.’
Ilya tried to push the pillow away but Shane had managed to climb back on top of Ilya, straddling him with his thighs as he smacked Ilya with the pillow. ‘Take that, you asshole. I’m never riding you again.’
‘Noooo, solnyshko, please do not punish me like this!’ Ilya’s whining was loud and clear even as he was being smacked in the face with a pillow. Ilya’s hands tried to find purchase on Shane’s thighs to roll him over but failed, his hands only grazing over Shane’s thighs as he caught onto the duvet under them.
‘It’s your own fault, Ilya. You reap what you sow,’ Shane declared with a final hit of the pillow before tossing it off to the side and jumping off the bed. He headed for the bathroom connected to their master bedroom as Ilya whined after him, begging him to stay in bed a little longer.
‘No, Shane, come back. Stay a little longer, just five minutes.’
‘No can do, Ilya. You know I hate the after-sex feeling,’ Shane shouted from the bathroom, wiping himself over with a wet towel.
He returned some ten minutes later, still naked but clean from the bodily fluids he was covered in earlier. Ilya was still laying right where Shane had left him: naked and laying on his back with his legs spread and everything out in the open, in full view for Shane.
Shane felt a blush rise up across his body as he made his way back to the bed. He patted Ilya’s thigh gently. ‘Come one, get up, the sheets are disgusting. We need to change them.’
Ilya whined once again, scrunching his face. ‘Nooooo, I don’t want to. I’m in very comfortable position.’
Shane tsked, grabbing the pillow Ilya had his head on from under him.
‘Hey, what did you do that for? It’s my pillow, give it back.’ Ilya tried to reach for the pillow, but Shne held it up in the air. Shane was standing, compared to Ilya laying on his back on the bed, so Ilya was never going to reach the pillow.
He eventually gave up, rolling on to his side and then pushing himself up and off the bed with his hands. He gave Shane a slightly snarky face. ‘I’m tired, you know.’
‘I don’t care, we need to change the sheets.’ Shane set the pillow down on the bed and grabbed a corner of the duvet instead, handing it over to Ilya. ‘Here, help me take the sheets off the duvet.’
Ilya complied, but only with mumbles of ‘I’m tired’ and ‘why do I have to do this when you’re the only one wanting to change them’. Shane heard them all, of course. Ilya was known to be a big, bitchy baby most of the time, after all.
They took off the sheets relatively quickly, and soon they had brand new linen sheets on their bed. Ilya jumped on them the second Shane got them arranged nicely on their bed, ruining the arrangement. ‘Did you have to, like really have to, Ilya?’ Ilya just nodded in response, rolling onto his stomach on the bed, still naked, because the man had absolutely refused to put on pajamas.
‘Would you even consider putting on pajamas?’ Shane’s suggestion was met with a cheeky grin from Ilya and a wink.
There was a short stretch of silence after that before Shane spoke again, leaning with his elbow against the pillows behind them. ‘So you really weren’t mad, at me doing that prank on you, I mean?’
Ilya shrugged, ‘no, of course not. I did not know it was prank, but…’ Ilya let the ‘but’ stretch out for a bit. ‘But,’ he repeated. ‘I was not mad, no. I guess I, in a way… Knew that you did not mean it.’
Shane blinked in surprise, staring dumbly at Ilya. Ilya took that as a sign to continue. ‘I mean, I knew, in a way, that it was not real. I didn’t know but I did know? I do not know how to explain.’
Shane seemed to think about it for a moment, then, when he seemed to reach a conclusion, he spoke. ‘You mean, you knew I wouldn’t even dream of leaving you?’
Ilya nodded happily. ‘Da, that. I knew you would never leave me. Maybe some time ago I did not, but now,’ he looked out of the window in their bedroom, letting his gaze sweep over the rose bushes outside in their garden. ‘Now, now I know you would not.’
Shane smiled wide and genuine, leaning down to press a kiss onto Ilya’s nose, then his upper lip, and finally, Ilya’s lips. The kiss was sweet and gentle, almost innocent — or the closest thing to innocence it could get when the other participant was Ilya.
‘I wouldn’t, leave you, I mean. Never,’ Shane confirmed the next morning, mumbling the words into Ilya’s left pectoral from where his face was squished against it. Ilya just hummed in response, hand petting Shane’s arm with lazy strokes.
And an hour later, at around eight in the morning, when Shane left for his parents’ house alone to go through the camp’s arrangements, Ilya sated his lust for revenge. He was a loving man, but he also loved vengeance, and pissing off Shane was the best way to do that, especially after Shane’s prank. Because Ilya could not let Shane get away with this prank without facing retribution, as he informed in his tweet on Twitter.
And then, as natural, Ilya went off the rails with it. In the end, he had also posted pictures that he knew Shane would get mad at him for. And he also knew that Shane would find out about them, so he was screwed. One specific photo he posted, considered by some to be risque or revealing, had gained remarkable internet success. Which was to be expected, when the picture included a naked Ilya and Shane laying in bed with the duvet covering only the more private parts. Everything else was out in the open.
Naturally, Shane found out about it all an hour later, hearing about Ilya’s — somewhat inappropriate — online activities from his mother, who definitely shouldn’t have seen the last picture Ilya posted. But she did anyways, and so did his father, and so Shane spent the next hour wallowing in his shame as red as a beet in his parents’ kitchen as his father and mother joked about the wild and energetic man their shy, closed-off, and ruly son had married. He decided to confront Ilya, even though he could only do it through text messages.
