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Ilya wakes up on the couch to a quiet house. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, the last thing he remembers is sitting on the couch with Shane after putting Mak down for a nap in his room. He must have dozed off as Shane was showing him some of the Reels he saved.
Getting off the couch, he heads to the kitchen. He checks the time and is surprised to see he had only been asleep for less than two hours. It was one of the nicest naps he’s had in months. It’s then he notices the sound coming from the backyard. They’re distant and muffled, but he can make out the dramatic voice Shane uses when playing with their son.
Ilya takes in the scene outside from the cottage kitchen. His husband is racing their 3-year-old son around their outdoor rink, pretending to lose, as Mak giggles in delight. He smiles, real and fond, at his boys. With training camp beginning next week, hockey season was approaching fast.
Too fast.
“Slap shot!” Mak announces as he winds his stick above his head. He swings down, making contact with the puck and sending it to the back of the net. Ilya cheers for him as he starts to make his way to the rink.
Both Mak and Shane’s head snap over to see him, smiling before Mak yells, “Papa!” and skates over to him. Shane follows, and Ilya meets them on the edge of the ice.
“How was your nap?” Shane asks, his cheeks pink with the slight chill and exertion. Ilya smiled and patted his cheek.
“Was good, thank you,” Ilya replied before bending down to meet his son at eye level. “Are you practicing your shots with daddy?” Ilya asked Mak in Russian, smiling at his son’s face. Makari was beaming at him, his cheeks still a little chubby and bunched up at his eyes.
“Yes! Did you see? Daddy is teaching me, watch!” Mak beamed in Russian before turning and skating to center ice where they had pucks lined up. He takes a deep breath, and then moves down the ice, his eyes narrowing on the empty net. “Slap shot!” Mak exclaims before launching the puck into the back of the net.
“Your coaching is questionable,” Ilya says as soon as Mak is out of ear shot.
Shane’s eyebrows scrunch together on his forehead, “Questionable? How?”
Ilya crosses his arms, “yes, he is announcing the shots before he makes them,”
Shane snorts. “He’s three, Ilya.”
“The goalie will still know,” Ilya insists, “he will never score a goal with your coaching.”
Shane shoves him playfully, still laughing. “Wrist shot!” Makari interrupts, Ilya and Shane both watch as the puck hits the back of the net. The parents cheer loudly as Mak does his own toddler celly. Ilya turns back to Shane, his eyebrows raised in a way that says my point?
“He’s three! He just wants to yell and hit things!” Shane gestures to their son who is skating as fast as he can, sing-yelling a song he made up.
“Yelling and hitting things, that is hockey,” Ilya laughs and pulls his husband to his side.
Shane opens his mouth to respond but the baby monitor in his pocket crackles to life, the small cries of their daughter filling the space between them.
“I’ll get her,” Ilya says against Shane’s temple, planting a kiss there before pulling back. He looks over to see Mak making his way over to them. “Amazing, my sunshine,” Ilya tells him, “I have to go get Marina, I’ll be back! Why don’t you practice another shot to show her?” Makari nods his head enthusiastically before Ilya turns and hustles to their daughter's room.
Ilya jogs to the cottage and up the stairs to his daughter’s nursery. The walls are lined with photos, something Ilya insisted on and Shane didn’t push back on. Ilya’s baby photos were somewhere in Russia, a place he can’t go back to for the foreseeable future. But their wedding pictures, and newborn photos of their children mostly fill that small void in Ilya’s chest.
“Good morning, my little star,” Ilya coos in Russian. He picks her up and kisses her cheeks, her sweet laugh filing the room. Marina had just started laughing, and both fathers couldn’t get enough.
He changes her diaper and puts her in long sleeves and pants, along with some warm socks before setting her on the nursery rug to get himself ready. He straps the carrier to his front, and looks down at Marina, smiling at just how small she looks on the floor.
As little as she is, Ilya can’t help but think of the time when she was even smaller, when she couldn’t sit or even lift her head up without help. He feels a pang of longing for the little girl he caught as she came into this world, followed by a small pang of guilt.
Both Marina and Makari are healthy children, they’re happy and they’re growing, which is what Shane and Ilya want!
But every milestone had become a two-edged sword.
He remembers the day just a couple months ago when Shane pulled her out of her carrier and she didn’t have the newborn scrunch. The small stretches of time Marina was awake with her curious dark eyes on display turned into hours of time spent playing together.
Every interrupted hour of sleep that came with a baby gradually became less each night. The long stretches of sleep Ilya once prayed for were amazing, but some nights Ilya found himself awake anyway, quietly watching the baby monitors.
The toddles Makari made towards Ilya turned into the three of them racing on the rink. Not only had Mak gained more mobility, he also gained this amazing talent of injuring himself. Ilya felt his heart stop everytime Makari’s head came anywhere close to the ice. Even off the ice, it was like his personal mission to find any sharp corner to bang his head into.
Marina’s whines bring him back to the task at hand, he picks her up and places her in the carrier. She stops whining immediately once she’s in Ilya’s arms, her chubby hands finding Ilya’s coat zipper. He nuzzled her downy-soft hair, planting a kiss on her head before placing a warm hat on her head.
Ilya makes his way back outside, the cool air hitting his face and making him gasp a bit, smiling as he feels Marina try and get closer to him. Marina was a velcro baby, she always needed someone to hold or touch her, and while it was overwhelming sometimes, Ilya loved it. He needed to be holding and protecting his babies much more than was necessary, so Marina’s clinginess was a very convenient excuse for Ilya.
When Mak sees Marina and Ilya out of the corner of his eye, he makes his way over to see his baby sister. His toe catches mid-skate and he hits the ice. Ilya waits for cries. Instead, he hears Mak’s laugh echo across the yard. He lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Your brother is going to give me a heart attack,” he whispers into Marina’s forehead, kissing it before he lifts his head.
“Good fall!” Ilya calls, “are you a penguin?”
Mak’s belly giggles begin again, “no, papa, I’m Mak! Not a penguin!”
Ilya finally makes his way to the edge of the rink, Shane meeting him there to see his baby and kiss her forehead. Mak finally skates to where they’re standing, and Shane picks Mak up to say hi to his baby sister.
Ilya frowns slightly. Shane rolls his eyes at his husband. “He’s 30 pounds, I can deadlift four of him without trying.”
Ilya starts to apologize for being overprotective, but Makari leans in Shane’s arms to press a kiss to Marina’s little head, cutting both parents off.
Shane kisses Mak’s cheek. “Such a good big brother.” Mak gently pats the pom-pom on her hat smiling down at her. Shane starts kissing all over his face, causing Mak to squeal happily. “You’re just so cute! I’m going to eat you!”
He spins them around, sending Mak’s giggles everywhere around them. “No, daddy! You can’t eat Mak! Mak will be too sweet and you have to go to tooth doctor!” Now it was Ilya and Shane’s turn to laugh.
“You’re right, you’re right, silly me.”
Shane sets Makari onto the ice. “Papa! Show Marina my shot!” Mak calls to Ilya. Ilya sends a thumbs up his way, and sits on the bench sideways, angling Marina’s face to the rink.
When Ilya was Mak’s age, he had just started to skate, and similarly to Makari, he was good at it. But there was something different about the way Makari acts on the ice.
Ilya watches the sun set behind Makari as he plays around on the ice. Mak is fast, a very good skater, especially for a three-year-old. His stick handling is something they can work on together, he has a habit of losing the puck even when it’s right under him, but when that happens, he just laughs at himself. If that had been a little Ilya, he would be upset, silent in his anger. Mak falls, and smiles as he immediately gets back up. Little Ilya would have stormed off the ice after a fall.
But Makari is not little Ilya. Makari is laughing; Makari is happy.
Ilya laughs inwardly at his own thoughts. They had named him Makari because it means ‘happy and blessed’, a sort of wish for their son. Both Shane and Ilya have discussed how perfectly the ‘happy’ part of his name fits Makari as he grows older. Every year, his smile gets brighter. He laughs louder.
The ‘blessed’ part of his name turned into something else. Not something Makari is, but something Makari does.
Before Ilya even held Makari, when Shane grabbed Ilya’s hand and made him feel the top of his crowning head, something cracked open inside his chest. Later while holding him to his bare chest, Ilya studied him. This little person that took his blond curls, blue eyes, and the freckles he loved, has changed him completely.
At Makari’s age, Ilya’s love of skating turned into something his father could use against him. Every loss, every flaw, every fall, they all came with a degrading comment from his father. He began to feel scared to go on the ice, scared to fall. Once his mother passed and no one was there to protect him from a majority of the verbal blows, he learned to shut off that emotion inside himself. He annexed that part of his heart to Siberia.
The warmth that radiates off of his son is enough to melt any residual ice surrounding Ilya’s heart. His son has turned him into a gooey, sentimental man.
Because Makari’s father is not Ilya’s father.
He watches as Mak falls again, wiping out and spinning on his belly. Shane begins to laugh with him, skating over to him and picking him up. He hears Shane tease their son as he brushes off some of the snow on his clothes. Falling doesn’t seem so frightening now.
Marina begins to whine and squirm on Ilya’s chest, pulling him from his thoughts. Ilya stands, bouncing her, trying to settle her. He places his hand on her cheek, making sure she’s not cold. Her cheeks have a very slight pink to them, and he kisses them, his stubble making her laugh.
After bouncing Marina for a minute without her settling, he feels her begin rooting on his chest. Ilya can’t help but laugh, he meets Shane’s eyes across the rink. Three years of parenting has made them masters of telepathy. He watches as Shane calls to their son, asking him if he’s hungry for dinner.
Makari answers enthusiastically, “yes, please! Pizza?”
Shane pretends to think hard about it. “I guess, but you have to clean up the rink with papa.” Makari cheers in response, making both fathers laugh. “I’m going to order it while I feed baby Marina.”
Makari heads to where they keep the puck bag as Shane skates off towards his shoes. Ilya is already unclipping Marina from his front as Shane takes off his skates and slides his shoes on with practiced efficiency.
Shane takes Marina from Ilya, lifting her in the air and kissing her chubby cheeks. Marina makes a happy squeal as she puts her fist in her mouth. As Shane bends over to grab his skates to bring in the house, Ilya looks around to find Makari with his back turned to them. Smirking to himself, he slaps Shane’s ass. Shane stands abruptly, turning narrowed eyes on Ilya, but Ilya has already started running to help Mak on the ice.
“I’ll get you back for that!” Shane calls across the ice.
Ilya laughs. “Go order our pizza, we’re busy!” Through the darkness of the quickly approaching evening, he can’t see Shane roll his eyes, but he feels it as he turns and walks to the cottage.
~
Dinner arrives, and Mak leads the dinner conversation. They talk about everything that pops into his mind. Dinosaurs, hockey, adventures his toys have gone on, and more hockey. After dinner, Ilya takes Makari’s bedtime, and Shane takes Marina.
Bedtime routine finished, Ilya reads Mak his bedtime story, then kisses his forehead, still warm from his bath. “I love you, my sunshine,” Ilya whispers into Mak’s curly blonde hair, already half asleep.
“Love papa,” Mak mumbled, a grin forcing its way onto Ilya’s face. Ilya gets up and quietly leaves the room, making his way to Marina’s nursery.
Turning the corner, he spots a shirtless Shane nursing Marina in the rocking chair. Ilya can’t stop the fond expression displayed on his face. Leaning on the doorframe, he’s content to just watching.
“You’re staring,” Shane says, not even bothering to look up.
Ilya smiles. “Am I not allowed?”
Upon hearing Ilya’s voice, Marina unlatches and makes a noise of protest, as if to say are you just going to stand there? Ilya laughs and makes his way over to her, she squeals and kicks her feet in response to the kiss Ilya plants on her cheek before Shane guides her back to his chest.
Ilya makes his way behind the rocking chair, his hands making their way to Shane’s neck. He starts massaging his husband’s neck, hand digging into the tense muscle. Shane lets out a groan, leaning back into Ilya’s touch. Through both of Shane’s pregnancies, Ilya had become incredible at full body massages.
As he continues to work his hands into the knots at the junction of Shane’s neck and shoulders, he looks down at his daughter. Still nursing, her eyes are half closed, as she fights the sleep threatening to overtake her. Ilya leans forward and presses a kiss to the back of Shane’s neck. He reaches out to her, his finger rubbing the freckles on her cheek. Marina closes her eyes, still giving small sucks every few seconds, until every ounce of fight leaves her after a few seconds of rocking.
Shane sneaks a finger into the side of Marina’s mouth, breaking the latch. He slowly moves her to his shoulder, rubbing a firm hand on her back. A type of precision in his movements that Ilya can only admire.
Ilya kisses the top of Shane’s head. “Thank you,” he whispers into Shane’s hair.
“For what?”
Ilya sighs. “For this. For giving me them.”
Shane rolls his eyes. “I didn’t do it by myself, now did I?
“No, but you carried and kept them safe for 10 months.”
“You were up with me in the middle of the night while I puked my guts out.”
“Yes, and you looked so beautiful doing it.” Ilya smiles at the laugh that forces from Shane. A silence falls between them. Ilya feels Shane’s mind racing, even after almost 15 years of knowing each other, insecurity can sometimes shove its way back into Shane.
Ilya goes back to massaging Shane’s upper back, out of Marina’s space. “It’s taking longer this time,” Ilya hears the hesitancy in Shane’s voice.
His movements don’t still on Shane’s shoulders. “What is?”
“To feel like me again.”
Ilya plants a kiss on Shane’s shoulder, then moves to rub his arms. Marina burps, still asleep on Shane’s shoulder. Ilya smiles fondly at her.
“It’s selfish I know—” Shane starts before Ilya cuts him off.
“Nothing you are doing is selfish.”
Shane gets up, transitioning Marina to her crib. She doesn’t even rouse from her sleep. Both parents sneak out of the room, Ilya making sure the baby monitor is pointed at Marina before leaving with Shane.
Ilya grabs Shane’s hand and leads them to their bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed, and pulls Shane onto his lap. His face between Ilya’s neck and shoulder, Shane takes a deep breath before continuing.
“If you could magically turn my body back to how it was before I got pregnant with Makari, would you?” Ilya rubs his hand up and down Shane’s back, pausing a moment before answering.
“No.” Ilya moves Shane’s head out of his neck, forcing Shane to look at him. “Sure, it was a nice body, but this body has given me my whole world.”
Shane’s cheeks pink slightly, but Ilya continues. “That body didn’t grow and protect 2 of the most important people in my life.” Ilya leans forward to kiss Shane’s cheek. “That body doesn’t give my daughter all the nutrients she could need.”
Shane leans over to press his lips to Ilya’s. He rests their foreheads together.
“Plus,” Ilya shrugs, “this body still has a great ass.”
Shane laughs. “There it is,”
They both laugh and he lets Shane press his face into his neck again. Ilya rocks them slightly. “Why do you ask?”
Shane sighs and speaks after a moment, “training camp is coming, I’m just nervous about coming back.”
Ilya furrows his eyebrows. “Nervous? The great Shane Hollander? I didn’t know you could do that.” Shane laughs and playfully hits his arm.
“I’m just not as strong as I used to be before.”
Ilya brushes Shane’s hair from his eyes and presses his lips back to Shane’s. He trails kisses from his mouth to his ear.
“You are the strongest person I know,” Ilya whispers. “I have watched as you pushed out a whole human two times now. You are six months post-partum and already beating me in training.”
Shane smiles. “You helped get me back on the ice.” Ilya starts to shake his head, but Shane puts his hands on the sides of Ilya’s face. “You got me back on the ice for the second time.” Ilya scans his face, the meaning behind Shane’s words start worming into his chest and making his insides gooey.
“I love you,” is all Ilya can say.
Shane kisses him again. “I love you, too."