cottage (whore) core

Tell me this isn’t Ilya giving and giving until he’s empty….

But Southern Ohio had a hockey rink, and hockey ended up saving them all. And now Cliff gets to travel, and pay his mothers mortgage, and send his sister through med school, and collect tiny, cheesy magnets for his fridge.

When Roz first came over to his place, he asked Cliff about almost every single one. Why he picked the Space Needle over Mt. Ranier, why he doesn't have the Hollywood sign, what this landmark on the Winnipeg one was. Roz was good at this, at reaching out, connecting. He was really bad at being reached out to.

The next fall, Roz came back from Russia with a magnet to add to his collection, "Moscow" written underneath a building. When Cliff asked what the building was, he explained it was the Bolshoi Theatre, and how his mother would take him and his brother to go see the ballet, and how he pretended it was boring but really, he always thought it was amazing.

Seven months later, Cliff was grabbing a drink for a girl he invited over, when he realized the Moscow magnet was missing. He panicked, and with no explanation to his date, quickly dropped to the floor and started grabbing behind the cabinets, under the fridge. He audibly exhaled when he felt the rubbery edges of it tucked up against the floorboards, and nothing felt right until it was back, stuck to the fridge with the rest of them.

Shane fills up a bath, running his finger under the faucet every so often to make sure the temperature is just right. He fills it with eucalyptus bubble bath and epsom salts. He sits on the edge of the porcelain while Ilya slips in. He uses a bowl to playfully scoop up water and pour it on Ilya's head. He puts a hand on Ilya's forehead to shield his eyes from the soapy stream. He says "My mom used to do this for me."

Ilya sighs and smiles and slumps a little further down, so the bubbles tickle his lips.

Shane answers with a concerned look on his face. He's also wearing glasses. Huh. Troy didn't know he wore glasses.

"Barrett, is everything okay?"

"You wear glasses?"

Shane looks confused for a second, removes the glasses and explains they're just for reading. Asks if he's okay again.

It's only now Troy realizes that this might be the first time he's ever called Shane. He's not even sure they have a text string between just the two of them. Roz is usually a part of whatever they could possibly have to talk about. The embarrassment causes him to pause, just for a moment, before he remembers why he called.

"Yeah! Yeah, um— I was wondering if you, if you knew what I should….Harris is sick."

He's trying to explain but obviously doing a bad job of it. Shane scrunches his brow, then briefly nods to someone off camera. Maybe he should have just texted.

"Yeah, I noticed he wasn't at the rink today. Is he doing okay?"

"Yes. Well, actually, I don't know. He didn't tell me, I just heard it from Gen, when I realized he wasn't there." Shane still has a confused look on his face. "What should I bring him? If I want to go see him. Like, medicine and shit. I'm at Shoppers." He turns the camera so the camera captures the florescent aisle he is standing in.

"Oh!" Shane visibly relaxes. "Um, that's really thoughtful of you. I don't know, does he have any allergies to medication?"

"I, um—" Does Harris have any allergies to medicine? Is that something a boyfriend is supposed to know? Troy is trying to remember every conversation they've ever had while also trying not to have a panic attack in a Shoppers Drug Mart.

"That's okay, Barrett, he probably—"

"Heart! Heart issues. He had some heart issues. As a kid. I don't know, is that relevant?"

"Oh, yeah, no, that's good to know. If it's just a cold, I would probably just get him a cough suppressant. Nothing with ibuprofen in it, and you should be fine. Robitussin is a good brand."

Troy scans the shelves, trying to look for something that resembles whatever word Shane just said.

"Black and green box," Shane provides.

Black and green box— there it is. Right in front of him. He holds it up to show Shane, who nods approvingly.

"Okay um…" Troy looks around the store, a bit helplessly. "Is there anything else I should get?"

"You could get some throat lozenges, some tea, maybe some extra tissue boxes? Electrolytes are always important, too." Shane is acting like this is the most normal thing in the world, Troy asking for help on how to take care of his sick boyfriend. Troy is thankful for it.

"There's also this one restaurant that Ilya really loves, I get him chicken noodle soup when he's not feeling well. I can send you the address if you want."

Troy nods his head gratefully. "Yeah, yeah that would be great."

He goes to say something more but then bites his tongue. Thinks he should maybe ask someone else, or at least have Roz come and join the call so it's less awkward. But Shane has been so helpful already, and Troy's been an anxious mess since he realized Harris had called out of work and hadn't told Troy about it.

"You don't think—" He pauses, trying to find the words for what he's asking. "You don't think he's going to be mad, do you?"

Shane scowls in confusion. "About you bringing him food and medicine?"

"Yeah, I guess— like, I don't know if I would want to see anyone if I was sick. Honestly, I'd be a little horrified. And I don't want him to feel like he's a burden, either. I kinda want it to be a surprise or whatever, but what if he just…doesn't want to see me?"

"Well does he usually like surprises?"

Troy shrugs, then nods. Actually, Harris loves surprises. Usually. He's never been sick during any surprises before, though.

"Then you show up, and if he doesn't want you to stay you just drop everything off and leave. You can call him later to make sure he's okay, if you're still worried." Shane says this with a shrug, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Troy supposes it is.

"Okay. Yeah, okay, sounds good." They're both silent for a second, neither quite sure what to say after that unexpected intimacy. "Anyway. Thanks, Hollander."

"Yeah, of course. Anytime." And he sounds like he means it.

They both stay on the line for a second. Neither of them had technically said goodbye, but there really isn't anymore to say. Finally, Shane just hangs up. With anyone else, that would have been a little awkward, but Troy is so glad for that small kindness he breathes a sigh of relief.

“shane?” ilya barely manages to ask, but he’s cut off by his own moan when shane unceremoniously pulls down his sweats and gets his mouth on ilya’s dick.

it’s the fastest blowjob in both of their lives — ilya comes pretty quickly, mostly because shane just goes ham on it, sucking his husband off like he knows it’s his last day on earth. ilya is still a bit dazed when shane pulls away, lips slick and glistening, and climbs into ilya’s lap. ilya’s hands loosely rest on shane’s hips, barely latched, since his soul was literally just sucked straight out through his dick. but shane is still trying to grind down on him, his swollen lips kneading and biting up and down ilya’s throat.

“shane, lyubov moya,” ilya tries, gently prying shane’s face away from his neck. “i love this, i love the energy, but can you please say what the fuck is going on?”

shane frowns when he gets pulled away, but ilya can see that his eyes are filled with something close to… fear?

“i read something,” shane whispers, like it’s a horrible secret. “on the internet. they said… ilya, i need you to promise me it’s not true.”

“i don’t even know what,” ilya says, smiling a bit in an attempt to soothe his husband. “if they said you have sexiest husband, sorry, cannot deny.”

“no, ilya.” shane groans, his thighs squeezing tighter around ilya’s hips. “they said… jesus fuck. they said you’d be happy to retire and become my wag.”

ilya’s eyes grow twice as wide, eyebrows shooting up. “what? what kind of idiot said that?”

“i don’t know, just… people.” shane waves a hand around. “they said that you’d be happy to retire right now, stay at home to raise our children — which we don’t even have, by the way — and…” shane gulps. “…and cheer for me at my games.”

ilya can’t help a startled laugh at the image that immediately appears in his mind. it’s absurd, to say the least. he shakes his head.

“not happening,” he says, rubbing slow, firm circles into shane’s hips that he’s still trying to grind into ilya’s lap. “how can i leave you alone on ice, hollander? you will regress to rookie, and mlh will become beer league.”

shane pushes at his chest. he’s not smiling at this as ilya hoped he would be. “exactly. i can’t do this without you, ilya. i’m serious. fuck children. fuck retirement. none of this wag bullshit, okay?”

ilya grins up at him. “wouldn’t dream of it. shane, the only way i’m leaving ice before you is dead.”

Ilya smiled at the understatement.

"We couldn't be prouder of the man he's become,' David continued. "I don't have any Stanley Cup rings, but I have Shane.''

Chapter 39, The Long Game

....

It's Christmas of 1988.

There's one more present under the tree, and Yuna's eyes are dancing as she hands it to David. He opens it to find the tiniest pair of shoes he's ever seen.

"No. Really?" He's dizzy.

"Really," Yuna grins, and her eyes are shining with tears, and David loves that face more than anything. He hopes their baby looks just like her.

.....

It's a bitterly cold day in February of 1989 when David puts the shoes away. He pushes down all the anger of it's not fair, why us, why our baby. Yuna needs him.

The doctor had said you're young, you can try again.