Chapter Text
Shane is anxious.
It isn’t an uncommon occurrence, not really. ‘Shane Hollander is anxious’ is on par with general statements like ‘water is wet’, ‘grass is green’ and ‘the sky is blue’.
(Ilya told him that once, and Shane proceeded to ramble about the Rayleigh scattering, and how the sky was not actually blue, for a good few minutes before becoming acutely aware of the atypical silence of the Alpha lying next to him in bed. He turned to look at Ilya properly then, only to be met with a pair of dark, ravenous eyes staring right at him like he wanted to devour Shane whole. The second Shane blinked up at him with his lips parted in confusion, Ilya pounced on him and went on to ravage him until he couldn’t even remember what they were talking about in the first place.)
It’s not a mystery nor a secret why he is anxious. Like most things in his life these days, it has to do with Ilya. The Alpha has practically monopolized Shane’s mind, and especially now his every waking thought seems to be related to him. Not that he’s ever going to tell Ilya that—Shane’s not going to be responsible for inflating his ego even further.
Shane is anxious, because Ilya will be joining him at the cottage just in a week’s time. For the first time in his life, Shane will be spending his heat with an Alpha. And not just any Alpha, Ilya.
So maybe it’s understandable, and maybe an understatement, that Shane is nervous. Anxious to the very last fibre of his being.
It isn’t all bad anxiety. Mostly, Shane just wants everything to be perfect. Ever since Ilya accepted his invitation, he’s been fretting about the preparations. It has only gotten worse since he actually arrived at said cottage, where he spent the first few days manically cleaning every room from top to bottom, only briefly stopping to feed himself and sleep. He made sure to get his extensive grocery order in to stock the kitchen (and bedroom) with everything they could ever need during their time together. And when that was all done, Shane turned his attention to the bedroom.
To the nest.
While Shane doesn’t consider himself to be a typical Omega and instead quite far from it—not that he thinks there is anything wrong with ‘typical Omegas’—he does occasionally get the urge to nest. When he was younger, it was purely a comfort-seeking thing, for when the world became unbearably loud, and he needed a safe place to hide from it. Nowadays, the urge mostly presents itself around his heat or during extremely stressful times.
(After fleeing Ilya’s Boston home following the tuna melt incident, Shane found himself nesting once he was safe back in his Montreal apartment. The nest stayed intact—with some laundry days sprinkled in because he isn’t a slob—throughout the whole fiasco with Rose, the awful night at the club, all of it. Only after the All-Stars weekend in Tampa did he gently take the nest apart for good, almost relieved to properly wash and clean all the blankets, clothes, pillows and bedding used for it.)
Now, with his heat steadily approaching, Shane is itching to build a nest for him and Ilya. The problem is that he can’t fucking seem to get it right.
The cottage has some of his favourite blankets and pillows to use for his nests, but no matter how hard he tries, Shane isn’t happy with the results. He even has a hoodie and a shirt he nicked from Ilya before in a moment of weakness, though they barely carry the Alpha’s scent anymore. If he presses them close enough to his face and nuzzles his nose right into the fabric, he can imagine breathing in the soothing, earthy scent of Ilya.
After building and taking down the nest for the fifth time, Shane is on the verge of a full-blown meltdown. He needs to get it right, and he has less than a week to make it happen.
He wants his Alpha—No, not his Alpha. Rozanov. Ilya. He wants Ilya to approve of the nest, to offer him one of his crooked smiles that make his knees go weak as he appraises the fruit of Shane’s labour. He wants Ilya to compliment the nest his Omega—Christ, not his Omega. Shane isn’t even in pre-heat, yet his mind his scrambled like the fucking eggs he had for breakfast that morning.
He wants Ilya to compliment the nest Shane made for them. To croon at him for a job well done before proceeding to take Shane apart in said nest until he can barely remember his own name anymore.
Shane needs to impress Ilya, to show him what a good Omega he can be. He’s painfully aware of his differences to all the other Omegas he’s seen hanging off Ilya’s arm as well as the fact that he’s always been considered an anomaly as an Omega in a sport dominated by Alphas. Ilya has never treated him as anything less than because of that, but Shane still feels the need to prove himself.
So that maybe the Alpha would want to come help with his heats in the future, too. So that maybe, just maybe, he would want to keep Shane.
It definitely wouldn’t happen if he couldn’t get something as simple as a fucking nest right.
…
“You stress too much.” Shane can hear the amusement in Ilya’s voice, and maybe if he wasn’t so close to setting the whole cottage on fire with his shitty nest in it, he would find it funny or even endearing.
He’s sitting on the floor of his bedroom now, pointedly ignoring the mess of a nest on his bed behind him. He’s feeling restless, and not even Ilya’s voice is able to calm him down like it usually does.
“I just want everything to be ready. All the supplies are sorted, there’s a mini fridge in the bedroom as well, but it’s just the nest that—,” Shane rambles until his words die on his tongue the second he hears Ilya snorting on the other end of the line. Fucking snorting. Like Shane’s just cracked the funniest joke he’s ever heard.
Shane feels his body tense up involuntarily as he listens to Ilya chuckling, sounding so amused. “Do you even know how to nest, Hollander? Do you have instruction manual for it?”
Suddenly, Shane feels like someone has opened him up and poured a bucket of ice cold water right inside of his body. While he was idly tapping his foot on the wooden flooring before, he’s now completely still. Frozen. Ilya’s words are playing in his head on repeat, only a record scratch separating the lines before they start up again.
Do you even know how to nest, Hollander? Hollander, not Shane. Do you have instruction manual for it?
Of course. Ilya must already think Shane is a failure of an Omega by design. Who is he trying to kid?
Do you even know how to nest, Hollander?
“Earth to Hollander. Shane.” Ilya’s calls sound like they’re coming from another planet entirely, and Shane isn’t sure how long he has stayed quiet for.
Blood is rushing in his ears now, and it’s hard to even think. He feels a wave of shame washing over him, and for a moment, he struggles to breathe.
Do you even know how to nest, Hollander?
“Uh, sorry, I think—There’s someone at the door. I have to go.” The lie tumbles from his lips clumsily as he scrambles to get off the floor and onto his feet. His heart is now racing in his chest, thumping against his ribcage like it’s trying to break free. Fuck, he needs to end the call.
Do you even know how to—?
“What? Shane, who is—?” Ilya’s voice is distorted in his ears now, and Shane really needs to end the call. His hand is shaking as he hovers his thumb over the ‘End call’ button.
“Shane.” Ilya is calling out to him again, more insistent now. Shane shakes his head despite Ilya not being able to see him.
“I’ll talk to you later.” His mother has taught him better than to hang up so rudely, and Shane sends a silent apology out to her. Maybe she would understand, if she knew the situation. Maybe not.
For the first time maybe ever, Shane feels relieved once the line is cut. His fingers work quickly to put his phone on ‘Do not disturb’ before chucking it somewhere in the approximate direction of his nightstand. He doesn’t bother watching where it actually ends up in.
Do you even know how to nest, Hollander?
Ilya’s words mock him as he turns to look at the sixth, pathetic attempt of a nest on his bed. A frustrated snarl echoes in the room as he proceeds to tear it down.
Flying back from Moscow to Boston is always brutal, but it’s worth the relief Ilya feels once he stumbles inside his house, the door clicking shut behind him. His shoulders sag as he drops his bag onto the floor and kicks off his shoes without a care where they land. He makes a beeline for the couch, exhaling loudly as he falls down on it.
Ilya isn’t normally a fussy sleeper, and he has more experience on sleeping on planes than most, yet he didn’t manage to sleep a wink this time. He is so incredibly tired and all too ready to pass out right there on the couch if it wasn’t for the ill-timed buzzing of his phone. Chort.
Any and all frustration Ilya initially felt melts away the instant he reads the notification on his screen. Instead of a scowl, he now wears a stupid if tired smile as he unlocks his phone and lets his thumbs glide on the keyboard.
Jane
Did you make it home okay?
Lily
just arrived
tired as fuck, couldn’t sleep on plane
Jane
Oh.
You should go take a nap.
Lily
maybe later
what are you wearing? ;)
you should send a picture
i’m a visual learner
Jane
Fuck off, Rozanov.
Lily
fuck me*, rozanov
you got it wrong, i fix
you’re welcome
and soon <3
is sweet that you’re excited
Jane
I’m seriously reconsidering having you over.
Lily
you cannot resist me hollander
we both know this
Jane
…
I’m at the cottage now. Getting everything ready.
Lily
call?
The way his face lights up once the call comes through is almost embarrassing, but thankfully there’s no one around to see it. Ilya is only a little disappointed Shane opted not to do a video call; it has been far too long since he’s last seen the beautiful, freckled Omega that has been consuming most if not all of his thoughts as of late. Then again, Ilya most likely looks like shit considering he hasn’t even showered after the flight yet, so maybe a regular call is the better option.
“Ilya?” Shane’s voice startles Ilya from his thoughts, and he realizes he must’ve zoned out after accepting the call. Hearing Shane’s voice always feels like being wrapped in the softest blanket, and it’s only made better by the fact that he is calling him Ilya. Not Rozanov. Ilya.
Ilya loves the way Shane says his name. When Shane found out most English speakers don’t pronounce his name the right way, he made Ilya teach him the correct pronunciation. And because he’s Shane Hollander, of course he perfected it immediately. But it’s not just the pronunciation that makes him love how Shane says his name. It’s the softness of his voice when he does.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day,” Ilya responds almost sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he straightens his posture on the couch. “How’s the cottage?”
There’s a thoughtful pause on Shane’s end, and Ilya is overcome with a desperate need to see the Omega’s face scrunch up the way it always does when he’s thinking. “It’s… good. I’ve mostly been trying to get everything ready. For when you come.”
Ilya is endlessly endeared by the soft, almost nervous intonation of Shane’s voice as he infers to Ilya joining him at the cottage. It’s almost like he’s expecting Ilya to change his mind at any given moment. Not that he can really blame him for that.
When Shane first asked him to join him at his cottage, Ilya wanted to agree immediately. The Alpha in him went almost feral at the mere thought of getting to share Shane’s heat, to be the first one ever to do so. The first and last, if his Alpha got his way.
But instead of rushing into it blind, Ilya forced himself to give a ‘maybe’ as an answer first, only so that he could actually plan things out properly. And after talking with Sveta about it in great detail, Ilya called Shane to let him know he would be happy to accept his invitation, if he’d still have him.
Ilya remembers how surprised Shane sounded then, like he’d been fully expecting Ilya to turn him down. As if that had ever been even the slightest possibility.
“You stress too much,” Ilya points out, sounding painfully fond even to his own ears. He tries to keep his tone light, just so he doesn’t accidentally spook Shane like the skittish little deer he is.
(Shane has repeatedly apologized for bolting out of Ilya’s house and the Rose Landry situation that followed, and Ilya doesn’t hold it against him at all. But he’s far too aware now of the risk of Shane running away if and when things get too intense, and he wants to keep it from ever happening again.)
“I just want everything to be ready. All the supplies are sorted, there’s a mini fridge in the bedroom as well, but it’s just the nest—”
Ilya can’t help but snort at the adorable way Shane is rattling things off. It’s so fucking sweet how the Omega wants to make sure everything is exactly perfect—how could it not be? Shane does everything with such immaculate care, Ilya can’t imagine the result being anything but perfect.
He chuckles softly, hoping to ease Shane’s mind by keeping things playful. “Do you even know how to nest, Hollander? Do you have instruction manual for it?”
The thought of Shane carefully building a nest with his face scrunched up in deep concentration makes Ilya’s heart constrict. He’s never had the privilege to see Shane nesting, but he figures he might just explode at the sight, so perhaps it’s for the best. Ilya has always wondered if Shane nests at all, considering how high his suppressant dose is during the season. It pleases him greatly to know that Shane does nest, at least for his heats.
A long stretch of silence follows his joking questions, and Ilya frowns at the lack of reaction from Shane. He fully expected the Omega to tell him to fuck off in that exasperated tone of his he’s grown to love, but instead all he gets is eerie silence.
“Earth to Hollander. Shane,” Ilya calls out, leaning forward on the couch as he grows more concerned about the lack of response. He glances at the screen of his phone to make sure the call is still connected, and sure enough, it is. Maybe there is an issue with the reception? Maybe—
Before Ilya can come up with alternative explanations, Shane’s voice comes through again. It sounds… wrong. “Uh, sorry, I think—There’s someone at the door. I have to go.”
Ilya is fully alert now, and he stands up off the couch fast enough to feel a little lightheaded. Who the fuck is knocking on Shane’s door at the cottage in the middle of nowhere? Ilya has the impression Shane isn’t expecting anyone; he briefly mentioned during one of their many calls that his parents were travelling, and that they would be arriving at their own cottage nearby sometime during Shane’s heat. Shane emphasized then that they were told to steer clear of his place until he texts them his heat is over.
So if it’s not his parents, then who is it?
Ilya tries to ignore the ugly feeling of jealousy with a hint of territoriality that rises up within him. He hates to think about someone being there near Shane so close to his heat starting. Shane’s scent is intoxicating as it is, but Ilya imagines it’s even sweeter when he’s off his suppressants and nearing his heat.
He realizes he’s baring his teeth at the mere thought of someone else getting to smell Shane like that. It’s unlikely that Shane is wearing a scent patch either since he’s alone at the cottage. Or he’s supposed to be, at least.
“What? Shane, who is there?” Ilya tries to ask, but Shane’s not answering him. There’s only silence coming from the other end, so he tries again, more insistent. “Shane.”
“I’ll talk to you later.” Shane’s hurried words are followed by the sound of the call being cut, and Ilya lets out a frustrated snarl as he immediately dials his number again. “Blyat!”
He’s pacing now, agitated, and his mind is only full of worst case scenarios. All the exhaustion has disappeared from his body, replaced by adrenaline coursing through his veins. His Alpha is restless, and the stress pheromones he’s releasing into the living room would most likely be enough to knock out anyone that dared to step into the room.
He’s practically a chemical weapon now, and it’s only getting worse the longer he goes without getting through to Shane.
After six attempts, Ilya gives up on calling and instead opens their text thread. His hands are shaking as he types out one message after the other, staring at the ‘Delivered’ status, willing it to change to ‘Read’. It never does.
Lily
shane
call me back
shane who is there
SHANE
please answer me
call me
text me
anything
please let me know youre okay
shane
im worried
fuck
shane
pozhaluysta
please
im coming over