Let's forget reality

they’re a lot fainter than they were when he was a kid, but they’re visible. they’re still there. that’s still dick’s younger brother, beneath all the defensive bluster, the hurt anger.

fast forward a year or two, dick gains an obsession with seeing jason’s face every time before they kiss— holding both his cheeks in his palms and soaking in the freckles sprinkled across the skin, lightly rubbing his thumbs back and forth until one or both of them gets impatient and leans in.

dick also has a habit of kissing jason’s cheeks in lazy moments of affection. as a good morning, long, lingering presses while cuddling, after patrol; pretty much any chance he gets, he takes.

it’s a fixation, dick isn’t shy to admit that, but jason allows it with only minimal apprehension at the start. dick can tell he’s doing more than just tolerating it, if the lopsided smiles and warm cheeks he tries to hide are any indication, but dick doesn’t call him out on it.

when jason finally asks just what dick’s obsession is about, he doesn’t really have a straight answer. at least not one that wouldn’t lead to jason probably not allowing dick to kiss them anymore.

“they’re just freckles,” jason says, like dick doesn’t still dream about them, like those sunspots don’t haunt his thoughts.

dick isn’t sure how to explain himself in a way that doesn’t make him sound completely obsessive. ‘they’re cute’ is a gross understatement.

sure, they remind him of jason before he died, but that’s not all it is either. dick isn’t seeing the ghost of a young boy in that dear face. not anymore.

“i like them,” he says plainly, a bit helplessly. it’s not enough. “they’re… you.”

there’s enough loaded into that one word that dick just… hopes it gets the point across. that he can’t explain how or why the sight of jason’s freckles feels like it unravels him at the core.

jason doesn’t respond, but he does tilt his face further into dick’s palm, his eyes falling shut for a quiet, prolonged moment.

“okay,” he murmurs. his lips twitch when dick predictably leans in and kisses the opposite cheek. “weirdo.”

dick hums when their lips meet, his thumb tracing imaginary lines, connecting each little dot into a constellation he could map out in his sleep.

Note: Inspired by @anotheroceanid 's Athenide AU and loosely based on a scene from The Swan Princess.

HERMES: You’re not still thinking she’s alive, are you?

APOLLO: When I find Perse, Hermes, when I find her, I’ll have my proof.

HERMES: Apollo, you’ve searched everywhere. Olympus, the Underworld, Poseidon’s fish tank—

APOLLO: There was a dolphin in there. I thought it might have known something.

HERMES: The whole pantheon knows she’s gone.

APOLLO: The whole pantheon is wrong. Perse is alive, and I’m going to find her.

HERMES: You do realize you’re the God of Prophecy, right? Have you—oh, I don’t know—checked?

APOLLO: That would ruin the dramatic tension.

HERMES: And you’re also the God of Logic.

APOLLO: Exactly. And logically, if I refuse to accept that she’s gone, then she isn’t.

HERMES: …That’s not how logic works.

APOLLO: (ignoring him, dramatically stepping onto the balcony) Animals, assemble!

(A majestic raven swoops in, landing on his shoulder. A wolf pads up and sits beside him, looking unnecessarily intense. A swan gracefully lands in the fountain. A dolphin dramatically flips out of nowhere, splashing Hermes.)

HERMES: (spitting out water) Oh great. The ultimate search party. A bird, a dog, a wet chicken, and a fish.

APOLLO: They are my sacred animals, Hermes. Show some respect.

HERMES: And what’s the dolphin going to do? Detect her with echolocation?

APOLLO: …Maybe.

HERMES: (gesturing at the swan) And this one? You think it’s gonna serenade her back to Olympus?

APOLLO: If necessary.

HERMES: (pinching the bridge of his nose) I swear, if you just used your actual powers instead of forming a divine petting zoo—

APOLLO: I will find Perse, and when I do, you’ll regret doubting me.

(The raven caws ominously. The wolf suddenly stands up, ears twitching. The dolphin lets out an urgent series of clicks. Even the swan looks vaguely determined.)

Percy: crouched down stroking the feathers of a lovely swan that’s glided over to serenade her with its strange song, raven perched on her shoulder watching for threats while also grooming her, hand fisted in the fur of a wolf she’s currently nose nuzzling, otter laid across her neck/ shoulders like Otto from Barbie swan lake, and a fox trying to climb into her lap.

Take me from the light and baby

tame me

All the photos they have of him with different family members picture him frowning with a little pout. He only ever smiled when he was in David or Yuna’s arms despite other people trying to make him laugh.

Some of Ilya's favorite appearances of 'brutally honest Shane' are at the Kingfisher with their team, as well as the Admirals.

---

Hunter and Vaughn both rolled their eyes at yet another classic Rozanov chirp. Shane hadn't been listening to that side of the table, as he was enjoying his conversation with Kip about the latest paintings he acquired for a gallery.

"God, Roz, you are a real piece of work. I bet you even chirp the kids at your camps," Carter said, a little too plainly to be a joke. Shane did not like that one bit.

"What? Ilya would never. He is a sweetheart with the kids," Shane countered, turning his attention and leaning into Ilya's side.

Scott huffed a laugh and nodded. "Well, that may be true, but on the ice, he’s a menace. Even you can admit that, Rook."

"Of course he is; it’s a strategy. That is the role he plays. He’s nothing like that off the ice. That's how most of us are, you know that," Shane replied firmly. He knew Ilya enjoyed the chirping when it was fair, but Shane did not like the implication of his husband being bad with children or just genuinely being a 'bad' person.

"You are the same on and off, Hollz," Carter said.

Ilya stopped himself from laughing, but Shane couldn't. He chuckled a bit and then paused before responding. "Oh, wait, you’re serious?"

The entire table went quiet, listening in on the conversation now. Scott was the one to reply. "Uh, yeah, Shane. You are the nicest guy in the league."

"I am definitely not," Shane said, not able to hide his surprise. Ilya had to tuck his face into Shane's shoulder to keep his smile at bay.

"What are you talking about? You are always composed on the ice. You are a good leader, especially for the rookies. All the stripes love you. You don't fight. I mean, you started a whole damn charity. They called you Canada's Golden Boy for a reason, Rook."

Shane rolled his eyes. He appreciated all of Scott's kind words, but sometimes he hated that his reputation always boiled down to that, especially given the pressure of maintaining it.

"I guess that is true. Thank you, but like I said before, that is on the ice. I'm not saying I'm a bad person or anything, but I can be a real bitch. I know that."

Multiple voices called out around the table in contention, shocked by what he just said.

Shane's eyes grew wide, seeing them all react as if this were new information. He thought it was a bit obvious. "What? It’s true!"

Scott set his beer down with a loud clatter on the table. "You aren’t a bitch, Shane. What the hell are you talking about?"

Shane shrugged as he took another bolstering sip of Ilya's vodka, not even bothering to chase this one. "Not all the time, no, but I’m way meaner than Ilya. I just don't chirp you guys to your faces."

Ilya finally joined the conversation with a nod before adding, "Is true. He is like that meme. Looks like cinnamon roll but could kill you. I have been saying Shane Hollander is an asshole for many years, and no one would listen."

Everyone around the table laughed, some sporting expressions of recognition at Ilya's meme comparison. That was until Troy leaned in from his spot across the table.

"Hang on, Hollzy. What do you mean you don't chirp us to our faces?"

Shane leveled Troy with that unimpressed look some of the Centaurs have received after making subpar passing choices or shot attempts at practice.

"Barrett, you really think Ilya comes up with chirps about stats on his own? Or the ones in French? I thought you were smarter than that."

Their first kid: Daddy look! Papa made us Scotty nuggets.

jackie: yeah separate bedrooms can be a blessing! i love hayden but sometimes i need my own space

shane: ????

hayden: it’s healthy for couples to get a breather! and it makes it more romantic when we share our bed again <3 even tho you kick in your sleep babe ahah

ilya: okei….

(later, at home)

ilya: don’t you ever dare sleep in a separate bed from me i will hunt you down

shane: fuck no never — also when you kick me in your sleep i just kick you right thefuck?? like grow a pair hayd, jeez

ilya: ok i see your point but maybe hayden shouldn’t kick his wife

shane: you’re right jackie should just kick him harder