Fac Astra Tuum

Ilya is frowning hard at a large pot of water that is boiling very aggressively. The steam has made his curls completely insane. He has flour on his face. His tablet is leaning against their fruit bowl, David's face paused. He looks up as Anya runs to greet him and beams.

"Shane! Good. Shanya, my Shanya, what is 'roiling'? Is this 'roiling boil?' David is teaching me pasta, but he does not say, and he is not answering texts. I do not trust the internet with this."

Shane suppresses a smile, and comes to look seriously down at the boiling water. He confirms that yes, this is a roiling boil. Ilya nods, satisfied, presses play on the tablet, and at David's instruction carefully tips his homemade noodles in.

* * *

Ilya facetimes Shane from, of all places, the fucking hardware store. He has never once set foot in a hardware store, to Shane's knowledge. He is in the ladder aisle.

"Solnyshko, privet. How high is our roof?" Shane blanches.

"No, Ilya. No. You are a professional athlete, you CANNOT get on our roof, I don't care what Dad is teaching you, NO."

Ilya waves a hand at him airily, eyes scanning the ladders again. "Not on the roof, lyubmiy, just need to reach gutters. Gutters need cleaning. Every year, must do gutters, David says. Basic house maintenance."

Shane shakes his head again, firmly. "Nope. No. No ladders. You are not climbing a ladder, Ilyusha. I will put it in the group chat. I will text Coach Wiebe. Do you hear me? No. We will hire someone professional to do our gutters." (He does not remind Ilya that he has in fact done this and had the same company come do a slew of other tasks every year they have owned their house, to the point where he's now on a first-name basis with the entire company's roster of guys.) (He also makes a mental note to have Yuna draw up a list of the things they are absolutely NOT allowed to do, as per their contracts, to put on the fridge. He is fine if she stretches the truth in this list.)

Ilya pouts. Then he brightens. "But we should have ladder anyways, Shanya! In case of lost kittens! Or if gutter men break theirs? Or-"

Shane is not able to talk him out of a ladder, but Ilya has to get it delivered, as even his 'sensible' winter Mercedes SUV is not gonna fit that thing, and he has not invested in roof racks yet. (He calls his Mercedes guy the next day to schedule them being installed. Maybe they want to get into winter kayaking, you never know.)

* * *

Ilya walks into the house with a large bag and sets it imperiously on the kitchen counter. Then thinks better of it and puts it on the floor. Then thinks better of that and puts it in the hallway guest bathroom. Then he thoroughly sprays and wipes down the counter and the floor where the bag was.

Shane, sat on the sofa reviewing game tape for their next matchup against Detroit, watches him silently.

Finally, Ilya stands to face him, hands on his hips. "Shanya, David has taught me how to plunge a toilet."

Shane blinks.

"We did not have any plungers, so now that I know theory, I have gotten one for each bathroom, to practice."

They absolutely have a plunger, it lives in the garage in a bucket that Shane uses to soak it in a diluted bleach solution after they use it. He knows this would have been part of David's video. He suspects Ilya has not gotten that far yet. Then his brain snags.

"Ilyusha, wait. Have you... never plunged a toilet before? Really?" Ilya shakes his head. Shane puts the tablet down and sits up, incredulous. "What? How?"

Like, really, they have very fibre- and protein-heavy diets. There is no way that Ilya does not regularly clog toilets across the continent, same as every other hockey guy they know. Has he just been... leaving them? Surely Shane would have noticed that, here at home. Surely. What the fuck?

Ilya is staring at him, equally mystified. "I call a plumber, Shanya. Obviously. Or concierge at hotel. At practice rink it is Mr Alvarez. Canadian Tire Centre it is Marie-Claire. You know this, I am sure?"

Shane stares at him, mouth hanging open. "What??"

Ilya shrugs at him. "Yes?"

"You- you call a plumber. Every time you clog a toilet in our home, here," he gestures around, "you call a plumber?? And there's a plunger in the janitor's closet inside the locker room at both rinks, Ilyusha. The hotel, okay, but-"

Ilya holds up a hand to stop him, then comes and sits down next to Shane, very close. He stares into Shane's face intently. "Shanya. You do this every time? By yourself?" Shane nods. Ilya thinks, his face a mask of concentration and processing. He nods too.

"David taught you this as a Dad. Because he is a good Dad. Okay. Makes sense. Why have you never showed me?"

Shane sighs and takes his hand. "I'm sorry, babe, I didn't think I had to. It never occurred to me? But we do own a plunger. It's in the garage. No one has ever taught you before, really?"

Ilya shrugs, brow still furrowed. "No. Growing up we had housekeeper, I would tell her. Father and Alexei would never. I have only called plumber here twice, by the way, usually shit at the rink, but..." He trails off. "I will be able to stop bothering Mr Alvarez and Marie-Claire now. Hotels I will still call, I think. But this solves issue of visiting other rinks on road trips, which is very good."

Shane nods reassuringly, and squeezes his hand. Something else occurs to him. "Ilyusha, did you clean the counter and the floor because there were plungers in the bag?"

"Yes, obviously."

"But... they're new plungers, right? Clean?"

Ilya rolls his eyes. "They tested them Shanya, at the factory. Surely!"

"Uh huh. ...Do you think they tested them with actual shit, though? Like the factory just has people who shit in their testing toilets everyday?"