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It had started with the 4:30 am wake–up. Shane never minded waking up early, it was good for him. Getting up and starting his day always left his mind feeling clearer somehow. But he started his day at 5. Not 5:15 and especially not 4:30. 4:30 was precisely early enough to cause a problem while also being too close to 5 to try and go back to sleep. So when he checked the clock, eyes bleary, and saw a brilliant 4:30 am staring back at him, he tried to not take it as a bad sign.
He probably should have.
Shane got up, went into his gym room, and rolled out his yoga mat the way he did every morning. The repetition of the same stretches and poses every day helped so much. He hadn’t gotten diagnosed formally, but after Ilya had jokingly suggested Shane was autistic after seeing one too many memes and TikToks, he’d come to think of himself that way. Or at least, he benefited from a lot of the things autistic people did. Like a routine. Less sensory input at times. And safe foods.
Of course, his routine was thrown off this morning. But Shane could roll with it. Ilya had mentioned coming to visit after a week of away games. The rest of the day would be salvageable, routine be damned. He wasn’t that autistic, Shane told himself as he held his first pose. He breathed in deeply, feeling the air whoosh through the back of his throat as he stretched, rotated, and mediated. As he finished the last few stretches of his routine, he felt significantly better about the day. He rolled up his mat, after wiping it down, and set it back in the holder, the same way he always did. But when he walked out of his gym, heading to the kitchen to make his usual breakfast, he smacked his elbow against the door frame.
Lightning shot down his arm into his hand and the string of curses that followed in English, French, and Russian would have earned him a scandalized “Shane!” from his mom, Jackie, or anyone who heard him. It hurt. But it wasn’t any more brutal than some of the hits he’d taken over the years. After the shock dissipated, Shane flexed his hand once, twice, three times. His hand felt like the static from his grandparents’ old television set. It was unsettling. It reminded him of the occasional bad texture of fabric, the kind where he needed to wipe his hands to get the sensation off. But he couldn’t. His entire arm felt wrong.
Stumbling his way to the kitchen, preoccupied with the weird sensation in his hand, Shane set about making the eggs he’d been gravitating towards recently. Eggs were good. Safe. And even if his hand had no feeling, he could still make them.
He used a drop of oil to prevent the eggs from sticking, though he’d prefer it if he could skip the oil entirely. It didn’t technically fit in his macrobiotic diet. But Ilya had insisted on no nonstick pans, so he’d gotten rid of his very beat-up frying pan he’d had for years. Ilya had been horrified the first time he’d seen Shane make eggs for them. The tirade about eating a macrobiotic diet but eating out of the micro-plastic pan that followed was actually hilarious. The memory gave Shane a chuckle as he cracked 5 eggs, added a teaspoon of pepper, whisked them together quickly and dumped them in the hot pan.
He turned back to his fridge as the eggs cooked, trying to find his container of prepared peppers and onions to add to the eggs. Maybe he’d make an omelet, instead of scrambling them. But when he looked for the vegetables he’d roasted last night, he couldn’t find them. He usually kept them in a small glass container and oh—
There was the pan sitting out on the counter, loaded with his roasted vegetables for the week. He’d forgotten to put them away, and now they’d been sitting out all night unrefrigerated. Gross. He’d gotten a call from Ilya last night, after his flight back to Ottawa, and he’d completely forgotten about them. It had been a long call, the kind when they were both finally alone after several days with their team. One that ended with Shane feeling like he would pass out after finishing hard, Ilya’s Russian words of encouragement spurring him on.
Well, he wasn’t going to eat the vegetables now. Disappointed, Shane scraped the vegetables into the trash and set the tray in the sink. But an odd smell distracted him before he could wash the pan. It was… burnt? Burning? Oh.
The smell, of course, was the eggs. He’d forgotten them, lost in thought about Ilya’s call, and obviously used too much heat. Shane was finicky about his food, he’d always been. And the mess of eggs—dry and burnt on the bottom and undercooked and slimy on the top was going to be inedible. He tried a bite, just to confirm his fears, but immediately gagged and had to spit them out. Inedible. Since he had gotten rid of his trusty pan, there was no other pan to use.
A reminder, one he’d set on his phone, started chiming loudly in the quiet kitchen. It was his reminder for “Morning Practice”. Well, he’d remembered he had a practice this morning. But why was his reminder going off now? He should have had at least another hour of—The new physical therapist was coming in to meet the team.
Shit, that’s why he had to be at practice earlier than he’d planned. A deviation from his routine wouldn’t bother him usually, but with no eggs for breakfast and his hand still tingling in a way that made him want to chop it off, this was beyond the pale.
Quickly checking the pantry, Shane looked to see that the protein bars he’d gotten and liked were gone. There was another flavor of course, one that had been sitting there for months, but they tasted weird. They were almost as inedible as the eggs. He should have had at least 3 more, since he bought one box a month, but… he’d also had a few later mornings than he’d planned since Ilya came over more often. Though Shane was never late, there had been more close-calls than he’d have had before Ilya. Ilya had been coming over every few days when he could spare some time and that meant more rushed mornings and more protein bars eaten.
Maybe if he hurried he’d have time to grab something on his way to practice. And if all else failed, there was his emergency protein bar in his locker. This would be fine, the failed batch of eggs was no big deal. Shane left the pan to soak before rushing to get his things together for practice. He felt his phone buzz.
Lily ❤️: Good morning, мой зеркало
Good morning babe
Lily ❤️What, no translation?
Not today, I’m late to practice.
Lily ❤️: You are never late. What happened?
Just a rough morning. I messed up my breakfast so I have to grab something.
Lily ❤️: What about protein bars?
We’re out. Someone keeps dragging me back in bed in the mornings, so they’re gone.
Lily ❤️: Dragging? Who’s dragging you?
Lily ❤️: Were you not the one begging for round 4 the other morning?
Maybe. I don’t remember it that way.
Lily ❤️: I will buy you more bars. Then you can stay late in the mornings
Not too late though.
Lily ❤️: When have I ever made you late?
You haven’t yet.
Lily ❤️: Exactly!
Yet. I’m sure it’ll happen at some point.
Lily ❤️: Probably
Lily ❤️: I’m going to skip team thing tonight
You shouldn’t!
Lily ❤️: We spent one week together already
Lily ❤️: What is point of “team bonding” after that?
You should go.
But I miss you too. ❤️
Lily ❤️: Я люблю тебя
Я люблю тебя тоже.
Shane checked his watch after sending Ilya his message. It was 6:52, he needed to leave at 6:45 to be on time. His heart felt like it had fallen into his stomach. On time really meant 5 minutes early but that didn’t matter anyways. Shane got up and bolted out the door, furiously grabbing the last few things he needed before practice.
He sped away, almost burning the rubber of his sensible car.
He didn’t have time to grab anything on the way and though he was not late to practice and greeting the new physical therapist, it was too close for comfort. After introductions, the team filed into their locker rooms to get dressed and ready for the ice. Shane wrinkled his nose at the odd damp smell coming from the room, though he couldn’t place it. It just smelled bad. But no one else seemed to notice the smell.
Shane reached up in his locker for the extra protein bar he’d packed for emergencies. Today certainly qualified as one. But as he groped blindly around the box, there was… nothing. No familiar crinkle of the wrapper, nothing. It was gone, and Shane certainly hadn’t eaten it. He’d have replaced it immediately. No, someone else had taken his food.
“God fucking dammit,” Shane said, slamming the top of his locker closed. The clanging metal echoed around the locker room, reverberating the concrete walls. No one noticed the noise or his distress—a wall had formed with most of his team after he’d come out. If only they knew the half of it. Thankfully, he wasn’t completely alone.
“Woah, swear jar!” Hayden chirped, but there was no malice in it. He came over, almost laying a hand on Shane. He froze though, not touching him directly.
Hayden, for his faults and many, many grievances about Ilya, had been very good about Shane’s alleged autism. He’d immediately agreed with Ilya, which was as good as a diagnosis. And when Arthur had started showing symptoms, things Shane would have considered to be extremely normal for a child since he did them all, Hayden had sent articles about stimming and sensory needs to Shane to help. He knew not to touch Shane when he was like this. Hayden was a good friend. But right now, Shane was too furious to think about that.
“Someone ate my protein bar. I haven’t eaten this morning,” Shane said, plopping himself onto the bench with an ungraceful thud. He didn’t even want to start thinking about *why* his teammates might have stolen his food, because then he’d really start spiraling. Putting his head in his hands, rubbing his scalp to soothe himself. It helped, but not enough. Shane huffed out a quiet “Fuck!”
“I’m sorry. Do you need me to grab you something when I drop the kids off?” Hayden smiled brightly. He finished lacing up his skates, and stood before sitting on the bench opposite Shane.
“Huh?” Shane’s head whipped up. His blood felt cold, as if he’d jumped into the team’s recovery bath or laid out on the ice naked.
Hayden’s smile fell. “Shane, please don’t tell me you forgot you were babysitting. Jackie is going to kill me.”
“No, no I can! I just mixed up what day it was,” Shane lied. Oh fuck, this day was truly going from bad to worse. But if he’d promised Hayden, there’s no way he could back out. He and Ilya could figure something out. Shane sighed, fixed his face, and said, “I’ve got the kids, and I’ll grab something on the way home. No big deal!”
“You are a lifesaver man, I really appreciate it,” Hayden said with a pat to Shane’s shoulder.
“No problem,” Shane said. Hayden lingered around, but when Shane’s phone buzzed from “Lily”, he left to give Shane a little privacy.
Lily ❤️: Did you get something to eat?
Nope, because I left my wallet at home.
I feel like a dumbass.
Lily ❤️: Happens to everyone
Lily ❤️: Gotta go, but I’ll call you later мое солнышко
I love you.
Lily ❤️: I love you too
Shane had to put his phone up and get practice started before he could respond to Ilya and tell him about the change in plans. But for some reason, everyone’s minds were unfocused and Coach Theriault had them run drills for what seemed like forever. No one was getting practice goals, a few guys tripped on the ice, and Shane’s skate broke. By the time he made it back to the locker room, practice had gone on for hours longer than it was meant to.
Shane was sore. His muscles ached and burned from the exertion. A shower helped some, but the musty smell in the locker room was still lingering. Shane wrinkled his nose. After getting his gear stowed away, he rifled through his things, pulling out his phone.
Go to your team thing tonight, I forgot I had promised to babysit for the Pikes.
Have fun with your team!
His wallet was missing, when he looked back through his things. It wasn’t in his left pocket or on the bench or in his locker or on the floor. Shane even got on his hands and knees to look. After washing his hands, he had to face the facts. In his rush out the door, he’d left his wallet. His stomach growled in protest but there wasn’t anything else to be done about it.
He gave Hayden a quick wave goodbye as he checked and double-checked around the locker room. His wallet was still missing. For a moment, Shane wondered if someone had taken it. The rest of the Montréal team, save J.J. and Hayden, had been keeping him at arm’s length since he’d come out. But Shane didn’t want to think that they’d do that to him. The more likely scenario, as stupid as it was, was that he’d left his wallet at home.
On the drive home, he passed two places where he could have gotten something to eat. His stomach growled loudly, rumbling as he made his way home. It even growled as he passed a McDonald’s, which sent a horrified shiver down his spine. He needed food, and soon.
Pulling into the driveway, Shane let out a sigh of relief. Being home was significantly better. He set his shoes by the door, put away his hockey things, then found his wallet sitting out on the kitchen counter. Oh thank goodness. Now he could go and get some takeout. The nearest restaurant, the one that had the grilled chicken and vegetables that he liked, was only a few minutes’ drive from home.
The doorbell rang and Shane’s heart dropped. He didn’t even need to make it to the door to hear the sounds of the Pike children at the door. The flurry of the twins squabbling, Arthur tugging on his hand,and Amber babbling something he didn’t understand, came inside the moment he opened the door. And Hayden and Jackie, looking completely relieved to get a moment of peace, practically tossed the diaper bag and Amber into his arms.
He could certainly understand needing a break from this. That’s why he and Ilya would never have 4 kids. It was too many, even if the Pike kids were precious. They’d have 2 children, a much better number, and then a cat and a dog. Hm. Shane would have to renegotiate their plans—four creatures, kids or not, seemed like too much to him at this point.
The first order of business was to settle whatever dispute Ruby and Jade had. It was easy, redistributing their costume jewelry so that they each had a few pieces. Then, holding Amber, Shane let himself be led to the pantry door. Arthur’s hand was sticky in his own, but Shane resisted the urge to wipe it off on himself.
“You want a snack, bud?” Shane asked, after Arthur put his hand on the doorknob. He was a quiet kid, but Shane knew that this was his way of asking for a door to be opened. Shane found one of Ilya’s things “hidden” on the top shelf, a Rice Krispy treat, and handed it to Arthur who gleefully ran off with his prize.
Okay, that was settled. The older girls had also brought books in their bags, so they’d settled in quietly for a moment. Which was good because Amber was wiping her nose on Shane’s shirt and Arthur was trying to lead him somewhere else now. Shane wanted a clean shirt first. But Amber started fussing again any time he even tried to put her down. He wasn’t even allowed to sit without her complaining. And Arthur would not stop dragging him from place to place with his sticky hands.
Shane’s stomach growled again. His hands felt shaky now. He needed food quickly. Shane managed to release Arthur’s grip on him and hand Amber a snack, and then got to work figuring out food.
Thankfully, he did have some frozen shrimp. Easy to thaw, quick to cook. He really needed to grocery shop. Shane looked around, checking his pantry, and decided to make shrimp alfredo. Definitely not part of his diet, but at this rate he was going to pass out if he didn’t eat something soon. His nutritionist would have to deal. And Hayden owed him zero complaints about his “bird food” for the rest of the season.
“Uncle Shane, do you have any snacks?” Jade asked from the couch.
“I’ve only got a few things, but I’m going to go ahead and start cooking,” Shane replied. He started pulling out a pot and a pan. The sound of the water rushing, the movie playing, and the kids chattering set his teeth on edge. It was one night, he could get through this.
Jade gave a cheery “Okay!” in response and Shane thought that was the end of it. Okay, so he needed to boil the water, defrost the shrimp, then he’d cook the shrimp and the pasta. And he’d make the sauce from scratch, Ilya wouldn’t mind his ingredients getting used up if it was for the Pike kids. He’d probably lament the fact that he wasn’t around to enjoy Shane eating something not in his diet plan for once.
“Can we help?” Jade asked, interrupting his train of thought. This time she looked over the back of the couch to see him.
“Oh, um, I’m trying to hurry,” Shane answered. He felt so awful now, the lack of food gone on too long. Shaky, dizzy, and so “off” that he felt like his skin was crawling. But the way Jade’s face fell tugged at his heart strings. He should say no. He was already overwhelmed. Instead, Shane sighed and acquiesced,“Yeah, you girls can help. I’ll have you help me make the sauce when it’s time.”
Shane set to work defrosting the shrimp once Jade’s smile had disappeared back behind the couch’s cushions. Then he filled his largest pot with water, but as he went to put it on the stove top, he almost dropped it. Arthur tugged on his sleeve again, more insistent this time. Shane managed to get the pot down before crouching to Arthur’s level. His knees protesting, Shane asked, “Hey bud, you okay?”
“Can we watch some TV?” Ruby interrupted, skipping into the kitchen.
“Sure, go ahead,” Shane said. He went over and put a movie on, the new one with the fox and the rabbit, and thankfully Arthur followed him to the couch. Once he was sure the older kids were fully into the movie, Shane went back to the kitchen to keep working. Amber toddled behind him and grabbed at his legs, smashing her head between him and the stove. Taking a deep breath, Shane said, “Hey Amber, I gotta work on this right now. I’ll hold you in a minute.”
When her fussing didn’t stop, Shane tried something different. He grabbed his headset out of his gym and put them on. The sound of the kids and the movie was dampened immediately. Shane felt like he could breathe again. Relief flooded his body. Now Amber trying to put her head in between him and the counter was the only thing annoying him.
Shane put the pasta into the water, sending a silent thanks to Ilya in his mind for keeping some in the house. The water was boiling and the shrimp was ready to go in the pan, no longer hard and frozen. He seasoned the shrimp lightly but before he got it into the pan to cook it, his phone started ringing.
He slid his headset off, dropping it onto the counter. Shane answered the call, “Ilya.”
“My love, how’s it going?” Ilya’s voice sounded tinny, the roar of his car engine in the background.
Shane sighed, wishing Ilya weren’t calling him while driving. But he really was in no mood to nag. Shane answered, “It’s going… been a bit crazy. But I think we’re managing okay.”
“Is that Uncle Ilya?” Ruby and Jade skipped into the kitchen, eager to talk on the phone. Shane put his phone on speaker.
“Hello Ruby and Jade!” Ilya’s cheery voice, reserved for children and dogs, came through the speakers. Shane smiled instantly. Ilya asked, “Are you being good for Uncle Shane?”
“Yeah!” the girls said in unison.
Ilya’s voice dropped an octave, suddenly very serious. He said, “Good. Naughty children don’t get slushees.”
“We’ll be good!” the girls said before leaving to go play again. Shane picked up the phone, holding it to his ear.
Ilya asked, “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. It’s just been a day,” Shane said, sighing.
Ilya gave his usual clipped response, the sounds harsher than Shane knew he meant them, “Okay. I will—“
A loud wail made Shane’s blood run cold. He hung up before Ilya could finish his sentence and dashed to the living room. Amber, eyes wet with tears, was bleeding from her mouth.
“She tripped and fell!” Ruby said, rushing to help.
Jade was there too, but rather than being helpful, the girls were simply jostling Shane’s arms. Jade screamed, “She’s bleeding!”
“I can see that, let me just grab a cloth.” Shane went to stand, running to the kitchen to wet a dishcloth. He felt a tug at his sleeve.
“Arthur, not now buddy, I need to—” Shane said, turning to look at Arthur. Arthur was pointing to the stove, where a chair had been quietly pushed up against the front of it. Something blue was sticking out of the top of the pot, momentarily, before slipping completely under the water. “Oh shit!”
Shane’s headset was now lying in the pot of boiling water. The last vestiges of his sanity evaporated in the steam. Trembling, he turned off the water, dumped out the pasta, and got a cloth for Amber.
He wiped Amber’s lip and thankfully she’d only bitten it. Already the bleeding had stopped. She clung to Shane and it was all he could manage to do to sit on the floor, curled into her tiny frame. There was so much to do, his brain screaming a hundred different things, voices intermixed with the screaming of the children. But he couldn’t move. He was frozen, locked in place around the baby.
Shane wanted kids. Ilya wanted kids too. But as he sat, frozen on the floor, chaos around him, Shane wondered if he could ever be a parent. Maybe there was too much wrong with him. Kids were chaotic. And apparently he couldn’t handle that.
The doorbell rang. Shane didn’t move. He was stuck on the floor, even as Amber pushed her way out of his arms to see who was at the door. He heard rustling bags, the slide of cardboard against itself, and heavy footsteps he’d recognize anywhere.
“Uncle Ilya!” The older girls cheered.
“Hey kids!” Ilya said. He set a few things down on the kitchen table, turned off the stove. He asked, “Where’s Uncle Shane?”
“He’s on the floor,” one of the older girls said.
“Shane, baby, come here,” Ilya said as he crouched down in front of Shane. He pulled Shane up, getting him to stand, but Shane had been on the floor for a while and his muscles had locked up in his panic. Ilya said, “C’mon, let’s go over here.”
“Ilya?” His brain felt like molasses. He’d known Ilya was the one coming in, and yet it had taken him so long to process it. It wasn’t until Ilya’s dark eyes and golden brown curls were in front of him that his brain pieced it together. Ilya walked with him, supporting his weight back into the bedroom.
“Go sit down, I’ll be back.” Ilya gave him a small push towards the bed and Shane managed to sit, sinking down on the edge of the soft mattress. He sat there, listening to the sound of Ilya moving around his home, opening drawers and getting things out. The kids had stopped screaming.
“The kids have pizza and are watching a different movie,” Ilya said when he came back into the room. He held out a plate to Shane but Shane was still struggling to get his brain back online. Ilya held it out again, and said “I stopped and got your salmon from that place. So you eat, okay?”
The smell of the food, safe foods he could eat, was what snapped Shane out of his stupor. He started to inhale the food. The fatty salmon mixed with the plain vegetables was excellent, just the way he liked it. Ilya had even remembered to ask the restaurant to skip the butter on top of the salmon. After a few bites, Shane managed to say “I tried to make shrimp alfredo.”
“I know. You did good,” Ilya said, patting his cheek. Then he kissed the top of Shane’s head. He said, “You just had a bad day, моя любовь»
“Ilya,” Shane said, when Ilya had turned for the door. But he couldn’t find the right words. He still felt his mind moving slowly. Eventually he managed to say, “Thank you. For coming.”
“Of course. Sit in here for a minute and eat. I’ve got the kids,” Ilya said before shutting the door behind him.
Shane sat for a while, inhaling his food. He could hear Ilya teasing the kids, laughter tinkling down the hall. It didn’t take long after finishing his plate for Shane to feel better. A little less out of it, at least. So he got up, put his plate in the sink and went out to the living room.
“Hey,” Ilya said from where he was laid out on the couch. Ruby and Jade were on one side of him, vibrant cups in hand, and Amber was curled up on the other. Arthur sat in a chair, alone, but tucked under a blanket Ilya had gotten out for him. Ilya asked, “Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” Shane said. He leaned over the back of the couch to kiss Ilya’s cheek.
“Come here, snuggle with me,” Ilya said, holding out his arm. It took him a minute to unsnake it from around the girls cuddled up to him.
“You look pretty cozy already,” Shane said. He looked back at the kitchen, at the mess he knew he’d need to clean up, and asked, “Do you want a Coke since I’m up?”
“Yes please,” Ilya answered.
“Can I have one too?” Jade asked.
“No way. Drink your slushee or I will,” Ilya replied, his voice taking on that seriousness that made Shane’s chest clench. Ilya would, will, make such a great father. Even without a guide to it the way Shane had.
“Aww!” Jade protested but the sound was quickly cut off by the sound of slurping and the crinkle of ice at the bottom of the slushee.
Shane spotted a few grocery bags sitting on his table that were new. He went over, plastic crinkling as he rifled through them. Ilya had bought himself more snacks, which was good. But there were also three new boxes of Shane’s protein bars. Shane sighed, pulling them out of the bag. He was so lucky.
After putting the snacks and bars away, Shane noticed one last bag sitting on the table. He opened it to find a brand new pair of headphones, the same exact ones Arthur had destroyed earlier. Ilya’s strong arms snaked around his waist, leaning against him to press a soft kiss to the side of his neck. Ilya rumbled, “Good thing I picked those up, right?”
“Why’d you get them?” Shane asked, leaning into Ilya’s touch.
Ilya froze, then planted another kiss on Shane's neck. Eventually he said “I noticed you seemed calmer wearing them. I figured I’d get an extra set just in case for you.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” Shane said.
“Seems like I did,” Ilya replied easily. He moved Shane, spinning him around. Hands on his waist, carefully not moving them with the audience around, Ilya continued, “I was happy to. It helps you, that’s all I care about.”
“Ilya, do you think…” Shane’s question died in his throat as Arthur rounded the corner. He went up to Ilya and tugged on his sleeve the way he always did these days.
“Hey Arthur? What do you need?” Ilya asked.
“Up,” Arthur answered, stretching his arms out to indicate exactly what he wanted.
“Hey! That’s good talking!” Ilya said, swinging Arthur up by his hands before catching him on his hip. Then he grabbed the Coke Shane had grabbed him and carried Arthur back out to the living room.
“Good job, bud,” Shane added, following them to the couch. He sat down next to Ilya and when Amber came and laid her head on his stomach, it didn’t feel so overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact that he’d eaten, or that the kids were getting sleepy, but Shane knew, deep down, that it was Ilya’s presence that had made the difference.
Ilya nudged him with his shoulder and said, “We’ll talk more in a bit, once the kids are gone.”
“Sounds good,” Shane replied.
Somewhere between the third and fourth musical number, Shane felt the darkness of sleep enveloping him. He half-woke back up to the jangle of keys and Hayden whispering “Hey Shane!” from the doorway.
Ilya shifted next to him and rumbled “Don’t wake him. The kids wore him out.”
“Was it that bad?” Hayden asked. Shane could hear the couch creak as someone, one of the twins most likely, was lifted from the couch.
“I think he just had a bad day. The kids were fine, just kids,” Ilya replied from the same spot on the couch. He was careful not to move at all when he added, ”You owe him though, he did a good job.”
Hayden’s eye roll was audible, despite being closer to the door now than he had been. “Yeah, yeah Rozanov, whatever you say.”
“I’ll make sure we get Shane a proper thank you gift,” Jackie said.
Ilya replied, “Thank you Jackie, this is why you’re the best.”
“Hmmm?” Shane asked, feeling movement next to him. Warmth and heaviness he’d been able to completely forget in his sleep was suddenly pulled away from his side. Amber, her face still a little pink from her fall, was completely asleep. Jackie gave him an apologetic smile as she held her baby close.
Ilya grumbled “I take it back, for waking Shane.”
“I was already up,” Shane said. He rubbed his eyes, running his fists across them over and over again. When he finally stopped, Ilya was smiling at him.
“Liar,” Ilya said without any venom at all. Then he turned to the door, where Hayden had returned to grab Ruby. Ilya said, “Goodnight Pikes, we will see you soon I hope?”
“Only because Shane won’t get rid of you,” Hayden chirped quietly. He shifted Ruby in his arms, her hands knotted in tight fists into his shirt.
“Shane would never. I’m a good boyfriend,” Ilya whispered, appalled. He continued, “I give great gifts. Like a drum set for each child. Or glitter in the big containers.”
“We’re going to go. Bye Rozanov! Bye Shane!” Hayden said with a tiny wave, before carrying his daughter out. She hadn’t stirred.
“Bye Jackie, bye Pike!” Ilya walked them to the door. Shane was too worn out to move, but he didn’t regret staying on the couch. He’d certainly done them a favor, after all. After a moment, Ilya presumably taking time to help the Pikes get the children secured, the front door closed with a click. Soon, Ilya was at his side again.
“Arms around me baby,” Ilya said, snaking his arms below Shane’s torso and legs.
“I can walk,” Shane grumped. But it came out slurred, sleep blurring the edges of his words together. He didn’t protest as Ilya lifted him, and put his arms around Ilya’s neck to hang on.
“I know,” Ilya replied. He carried Shane easily to the bedroom and gently set him down, sliding his arms out to let Shane rest on the mattress. Then he turned off the overhead light, leaving the room with only a glow from the adjoining bathroom.
“Ilya…” The question had festered for too long in Shane’s mind now, and the thought of asking scared him immensely. There was already so much risk, so much at stake for their relationship. A fundamental incompatibility like this would be their death knell. Shane tried and failed to keep his voice steady.
“What’s up?” Ilya asked gently. He was still standing, frozen in the middle of the room. Shane probably wasn’t helping his anxiety by starting this way.
Shane asked into the darkness, “Do you think I could be a dad someday? If I’m like this?”
“Of course. Why not?” Ilya asked easily. He stripped his shirt and pants off quickly, before crawling into bed alongside Shane. His warmth immediately enveloped Shane like a blanket.
“Because I can’t handle watching the kids without melting down,” Shane responded. He turned away a little, scared of what Ilya might say. Sometimes Shane had trouble with things, that was part of the problem with Schrödinger's autism. It caused issues. But if he couldn’t manage it, manage himself, then it could cost him everything. Tears welled up in his eyes and he tried to blink them away.
“Shane, look at me,” Ilya said. He gently turned Shane’s face, brushing Shane’s tears away with his thumb. Then he planted a chaste kiss on Shane's lips. He continued, “You did a good job. You had a meltdown, yes. But only at the end of a long, horrible day.
“And if you have another day like this, where everything is wrong, you won’t be alone,” Ilya added, before pressing another soft kiss to Shane’s lips.
“I’m so glad you came,” Shane said as he buried his face in Ilya’s neck. Glad wasn’t the right word though. He wasn’t sure he knew a word that came close to how Ilya made him feel when he came in. Relief wasn’t enough to describe how the tension left him completely, the safety in Ilya’s presence. He wondered if this was how Ilya felt, when English failed him.
“Me too,” Ilya said, running his fingers through Shane’s hair. He always liked when Ilya did that, scratching his scalp with just the right amount of pressure. Shane sighed into the touch, letting his eyes close. Ilya whispered in his ear, “You’re going to make a great dad, Shane.”
Shane hummed. “I’m glad we’ll get to be parents together. You’re much more fun than I am.”
Ilya smugly said, “Yes, this is true.”
“I do think we need to agree to reduce the number of things in the home, though. Four living things is too many,” Shane said.
Ilya smirked before saying, “It’s fine, we’ll just have two kids and a dog.”
“What about my cat?” Shane asked sleepily. He’d always wanted one, but not until he retired and could enjoy it curled up in his lap while he watched hockey.
Ilya shook his head, his curls rustling against Shane’s pillowcase. “No, no, four is too many. And I want two kids with you, so we limit the cats.”
“Why two?” Shane asked.
“So I can watch you hold one in each arm,” Ilya replied. He rested his arm over Shane, sighing into the crook of Shane’s neck. He added, “And so we have two chances at a hockey dynasty child.”
“Good point,” Shane said, before being cut off by a yawn. Settling into Ilya’s touch, Shane could feel himself slipping back into sleep. Half-awake now, he whispered, “I love you, Ilya.”
“Я люблю тебя тоже,” Ilya whispered back.