They're always in and out of the water – lake swims, pool swims, hot tub, showers – so doing his curl routine each time would be crazy when he could be spending that precious time sucking his boyfriend's dick.

Shane's not the biggest fan of how Ilya's styling products feel. He'll tolerate it, but Ilya can tell by his face that the texture isn't his favourite. Less product = more hair touching.

Shane's hands are always in his hair. When they're kissing. When they're watching a movie. When they fuck. When Ilya sits with his head in Shane's lap. When they're napping on the couch together. Shane's hands are usually full of a handful of Ilya's curls.

Shane seems to really like it. One time Shane said Ilya's fluffy hair made him look like a duckling and he's been chasing that high ever since.

But this year he's not in Russia, and he slips into this warm syrupy slumber while Shane pets through his hair (incidentally making a disastrous mess of his curls) and reads his book. When Ilya eventually rouses, with a happy grumble of contentment, nuzzling closer into Shane's stomach, he can feels Shane laughing gently at him almost before he hears it.

"Did you sleep well?" Shane asks, and that sounds warm and syrupy too, and Ilya rolls over so he can smile at Shane and revel in the smile he gets in return.

And then Shane says, "Are you hungry? It's almost dinnertime," and Ilya realises he's been lying here, napping and pinning Shane to the couch and wasting both of their time, for hours, and he jackknifes upright so suddenly that Shane startles back.

"Fuck!" Ilya spits out. "I was--fuck, has been so long. Why didn't you wake me up?" already guilty because Shane had wanted to make some pasta thing that he was weirdly excited about and they'd talked about maybe playing more Chel but now the whole day's been napped away and--Ilya sneaks a look---Shane's book is lying closed on the couch, bookmark set neatly aside, so Shane had finished his book and not even been able to get up to go do something else.

And he's just smiling at Ilya, completely unconcerned that Ilya's been idle and asleep and... and... lazy, all afternoon, just glad Ilya had a good nap.

Shane's frowning in mild confusion at him. "Why?" he says, genuinely not seeing the problem. "You were napping, it was nice. I mean, if I'd needed to pee or something I'd have got up but I was fine." He reaches out and smoothes some of Ilya's hair down. "Oh, the pasta. We can do that tomorrow, we have all that salad from lunch and rolls and there's peaches if we want dessert."

Ilya must have responded somehow because Shane beams at him and says, "Cool, I'll go set the table if you want to go wash your face." He smirks and pokes at Ilya's cheek. "Got a little drool there." And then he smacks a kiss on Ilya's head, gets up, and trots over to the kitchen while Ilya just sits there reeling.

“Well I doubt my dad was thinking of me and Aaron when he put pen to paper”

It was a prophecy

rating: T | tags: soft middle-of-the-night happenings, cuddles, banter, domesticity

shane wakes in the night needing to pee. ilya is cuddling him from behind, one arm cushioning shane's neck and the other weighing down the dip of shane's waist, their legs criss-crossing and tangled in blankets. shane is loathe to move, but his bladder is full and insistent and he knows he won't be able to fall back asleep without dealing with it. so he begins the awful process of disentangling himself from ilya — unhooking an ankle from ilya's calf, removing a leg from between ilya's legs, lifting ilya's arm from his stomach. he does it all painstakingly slowly, not wanting to wake ilya, but his efforts prove futile. he's barely shifted away from ilya when he hears ilya inhale behind him, feels him stir.

sleepy hum, then, "shane?"

Yes! He's acting as the literal shield to Lestat with his body and holding Lestat up to keep him from collapsing.

He's being Lestat's strength and Lestat's shelter from the storm.

And the kiss to his head —

And then Lestat finally letting go and falling into Louis' protection —

Falling into something he's literally never had before. Someone loving him and caring for him without expecting fucking sex from him.

Geez.

He loves bringing Shane a warm towel, helping him wipe down. He loves massaging soap on Shane’s sore, but relaxed muscles in the shower. He loves bringing Shane a snack and feeding him by hand. He loves how boneless Shane goes, how snuggly and warm and carefree.

But he can never shake the feeling of deep regret after each time. He remembers how, for years, he did not do this for Shane. He would let himself indulge just as much as he dared, laying in bed together for a couple minutes, sometimes showering together (but that always ended in shower sex), throwing a towel or clothes at Shane.

The first time he tried to provide the type of aftercare he wanted, was the day Shane left him for Rose Landry. Shane insists he didn't 'leave him for Rose Landry' because A. they weren't together and B. he met Rose weeks later. But since Ilya was the one that got left, he feels entitled to call it how he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Ilya apologized one day, running his hand through a pliant Shane's hair.

"For what?" Shane mumbled.

"For not doing this," Ilya said. "For so many years. For just kicking you out."

Shane sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. "Ilya."

"What?"

"You never just 'kicked me out,'" Shane scrunched up his nose. Adorable. "If you had tried to do this at first, I probably would have freaked out."

"You did freak out," Ilya sulked.

"I did," Shane smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "I love this, you know? I love that you take such good care of me afterwards."

Ilya felt warmth spread inside his chest. "I'm glad."

"But," Shane caught his eye. "I didn't need it. You always took care of me, maybe just not this much. But I never felt, I mean, almost never felt bad afterwards, except, you know."

Vegas. They had talked about that, extensively.

"But, Ilya," Shane continued, cupping his face in his hand. "I don't think that I need this as much as you do."

Ilya considered this for a moment. It was true - this settled Ilya, it convinced him that he did well, he took care of Shane, and made him happy. He didn't hurt him.

"You don't need this?"

"I do," Shane said. "But so do you. So if you're sorry about not doing it, so am I."

"But, I am..."

"You're what?" Shane challenged.