when do they kiss?

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“Jesus Christ.” Ilya huffed as he seated Iris on his hip. “What the fuck are you feeding her?”

“Language,” Shane scolded as he tidied up the aftermath of Iris’ breakfast smattered across her highchair.

“She’s six months old. Or, maybe, 12 years. I cannot tell because of how huge she is.” Ilya was wiping at her face with a damp cloth while baby Iris squealed and fussed in his arms.

“I was a big baby too…” Shane mused as he finished his scrubbing and put one arm around Ilya, and gave the other to Iris to play with as she pleased. She wrapped a chunky hand around Shane’s pinky and shook it wildly.

“I know, but I thought it was because your parents wanted pro hockey star. Not because it was—“

“Genetic?” Shane cut him off with a knowing smile and leaned in to kiss his husband.

Shane’s said four words since he woke up fifteen minutes ago. He’s sat at the counter, stool pulled up to it, hunched tiredly over a bowl of cereal. He’s in his scrub pants and no shirt, as usual for pre shift dinner to avoid any spills or smells on his top.

Ilya is leant in the doorway of Shane’s kitchen. He’d finished his short shift at three in the afternoon, been at Shane’s place by half past.

He’d let himself in quietly, (using the key Shane had given him two months ago now to come go and he pleased) very careful as he moved around the home, to stay quiet and not wake Shane from his pre night shift sleep as he changed into the sweats he bought with him.

Shane would be up at four thirty to stretch, shower, do his skincare change and then out in the kitchen by five. Ilya had folded and stacks Shane’s clothes from the dyer, and filled Shane’s waterbottle while he waited for his boy to wake up.

They’d have and hour and half before Shane would have to leave before shift, it wasn’t much, but Ilya hadn’t seen Shane outside of in passing at work in a few days and he’d missed him. The chance to kiss and cuddle and sit with his boy was worth it. Ilya was curled up on the couch when the door to Shane’s bedroom clicked open, and his Shane had shuffled out, in his scrub pants and socks, rubbing at his right eye with his fist.

Ilya had gotten so absorbed in real housewives that he’d not even realised the time, and his eyes darted to his phone. His stomach flipped a little at the 5:21 on the screen. Ilya’s eyes darted back to Shane, who had come to a stop at the end of the couch. He’d leant down and pressed his lips on Ilya’s head, mumbled “hi baby” and sniffled before shuffling onward to the kitchen before Ilya could reply.

Ilya watched the slump of his retreating boyfriends back. This was bad, late out of bed and no kiss on the lips. Ilya had managed to sit still for all of five minutes before he was climbing off the couch and following after Shane. He wanted to give him space, to wake up, to settle, to seek out Ilya when he was ready for him. But Ilya had missed him, and a Shane out of pattern was unpredictable.

It bought them to now, Ilya leant in the door with Shane bringing spoonfuls of cereal to his mouth, the soft clink of his spoon and the distant noise of the tv the only sound in the room.

“Sleep okay?” Ilya asked softly, and then went about making Shane’s pre shift coffee- half to do something with his hands and half because Shane was already late to get up, late to have his coffee in hand warm and fresh ti help wake him up.

“Mmhm” Shane hummed, nodded, muffled a yawn into his hand.

“Work ok?” Shane asked then, voice low and scratchy with sleep. Ilya turned to look at him as the coffee machine spluttered and spilled smooth coffee into Shane’s mug. Shane had a pillow crease down his cheek, his eyes were hazy with the edges of sleep, chest flushed with sleep warmth. Ilya wanted to bundled him up whole, maybe bite him a little. Maybe kiss and suck at the warm skin of his neck while he got him all cosy in his lap and touched him until that bunch of his shoulders dropped and the loosened into something softer, warmer, loose limbed.

Shane looked at him with expectant brows and Ilya bit down a smile as he turned the espresso shot into an iced long black. Of course Shane would check on him with the few words he managed to get out, those somehow worked past the tangle in his brain.

“Was good, not too busy” Ilya shrugged and crossed the kitchen to place the coffee in front of Shane, looked down at the grumbly shape of his boyfriend, he could feel his stewing radiating off him. Ilya placed a gentle hand on the back of Shane’s neck, rubbed the pads of his fingers up against Shane’s hairline. He dipped his head to kiss the top of Shane’s head.

“Thank you” Shane mumbles and its wobbly, and ha lingers, pets at Shane’s neck but Shane doesn’t lean back into him, doesn’t chat to him about last nights shift in slow hazy words, doesn’t catch Ilya’s hand to hold while he eats. Ilya hums, and pulls back.

Sometimes his Shane is quiet and sometimes his Shane needs space; especially on his last shift on a block of nights. Ilya is familiar with the way they untangle you, leave you spacey and backwards. Like you’re jet lagged or a toddler or a tiny bit drunk and hungover at the same time.

Ilya strolls out of the kitchen and goes to mute the tv, incase the sound is too much, and then goes to his bag for the three item he’d thrown in there for Shane this morning. He wordlessly makes his way back to the kitchen where Shane is rinsing his bowl, his backpack sitting unzipped on the bench, now containing his lunch bag.

Ilya places the small box of peppermint tea inside the bag (Shane said it helped with the bloating and nausea he sometimes got on nights and shane had texted Ilya with many sad faces that he was out of it last night) and well Ilya had stock for Shane at his place so it just made sense to bring some.

He lays the jumper he has in his arms over the top of the bag. It was Ilya’s, a sweatshirt he’d had for years, worn in thin and comfortable, soft in that way that only came with time. Shane’s favoured jumper to take of Ilya’s when they were at his place. Shane could decide if he wanted it for work- but at least the offer was there.

Ilya takes himself back to the couch, sits down and clicks the volume up to a soft murmur. Tells himself that he’s doing well not to hover, even though he kind of needs a smile and a kiss from Shane before he leaves to feel confident that is boy is alright. But then again, maybe he’s simply too tired for that- or overstimulated by Ilya’s presence. And yes Ilya’s missed his boy, but even if his time with Shane, being in Shane’s orbit consisted of only this, that was okay- they knew, time together between shifts like this, in overlap, they were just whatever they could find energy to be together.

Two weeks ago Ilya had come home with such a migraine post work that date night with Shane had been a cool shower and then laying in the dark of Ilya’s room in silence with the fan on, not touching because Ilya’s skin felt throbby.

A week before that, both post a 12hr day they had drunk wine directly from one shared bottle, and ate Thai food on the floor in front of the tv as they ranted about their equally fucking cursed days. It would change, what they needed but, what they needed would always be from each other, to exist together.

Ilya is halfway through a text to Sveta, when he suddenly blinks and oh, that’s a lap full of Shane. He’s warm and heavy and no longer shirtless, in his scrub top and Ilya’s jumper and he’s shoving his face into Ilya’s neck, tucking his arms in between their chests and his thigh pressing to either side of Ilya.

Ilya lets out a soft breathless laugh, knocked out of him the the weight of Shane, but then, then he feels the ripple of Shane’s shoulders, hears his big drawing breath in the way it’s coming faster than usual. Oh. Oh Shane.

The concept of that crew being like, ffs Hudson we get it, you love him, no set will ever be the same won’t him, will this do?!

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Like, he’s generally fab with kids anyway but he has a near lifetime of knowledge figuring out what makes Shane tick (and twitch) and this is just a child who isn’t able to control their environment or modulate their responses to things in the way that Shane can.

So when they’re having dinner with the Pikes and Jackie is tiredly recounting the ongoing process of getting Amber tested and how lost they’re feeling, Ilya is like, oh, I have been training my whole life for this. And when 3yr old Amber inevitably starts having a meltdown, Ilya jumps up and says, “Here. I will fix. You stay.”

And they’re like, you know what, sure, have at it.

Within a few minutes of Ilya disappearing with Amber, the crying stops. When they track the two down a half hour later, they’re in the basement on the rug with all the lights off. Amber is wearing a pair of Christmas Pjs (notably a bamboo/cotton mix) despite the fact that it’s February, and she’s laying on Ilya’s chest, ear to his sternum, alternating tapping along as he hums, spinning his ring on his finger, and rubbing his shirt (also a Nice Fabric since obviously Ilya’s whole wardrobe is Shane-approved).

And when Amber sees the family + Shane trooping down the stairs and starts to get riled up again, Ilya is immediately like, “Turn off hall light. It is Dark Floor Time. Only quiet people allowed to join, okie?” And Amber lets out this relieved, shuddery little breath because she has someone who understands and can advocate for her which nearly ends Ilya’s life but also Shane is like, oh shit, yeah, I’m the the best at floor time, I love being quiet and grounded and aimlessly touching my husband, lets fucking go.

So even when the other Pike children get antsy after a few minutes, and their parents take them upstairs, Shane and Ilya stay, letting Amber crawl all over them and get chill before they get her ready for bed.

Afterward, Ilya gives Hayden and Jackie an exhaustive rundown of all the various things they might want to consider for clothing and food and overstimulation and regulation and they’re very grateful but Shane is listening to this going, okay some of this I obviously knew about myself but some of these things I didn’t even notice? Holy shit? He pays such close attention to me?? Hold on, some of these things I haven’t done since middle school. Ilya, did you talk to my mom about my childhood behavior?? And yes, Ilya gives Jackie Yuna’s phone number for additional consult until they get Amber’s official diagnosis and are provided with more resources.

(And maybe at first Shane wants to be annoyed about the fact that Ilya has been, what, researching and compiling some sort of manual on how to handle him? Right up until Ilya reminds Shane that Shane has an Ilya Spreadsheet that now contains over a dozen tabs of Ilya’s likes and dislikes, injuries and recovery protocols, training and diet and supplements, depression treatment with behavioral red-flags and mitigation techniques, and even sexual preferences. And Shane is like, oh yeah, okay, that’s fair)

But anyway. As the Pike kids grow up, Ilya tries not to be obvious about it, but it’s just Known that Amber is Uncle Ilya’s favorite. And everyone is mostly okay with that.

His doting is so quietly impactful for Shane, though, because here is a child who reminds Shane of his own younger self: a little odd, who struggles to articulate what she feels and needs, who gets overstimulated easily and has obsessive interests, but even so, Amber is a favorite and so loved and accommodated by his husband. That’s gotta be healing.

Also, as much as they try to get Amber to hyperfixate on hockey, I think it’d be hilarious if she became a horse girl and Ilya literally buys her a pony.

(Hayden: Oh my god, Ilya. Do you know how expensive horses are?? Ilya: Yes, yes, maybe for 15th best player on the Metros with one hundred other children, horse is big cost, but not for best player in the league married to second best player in the league with Yuna Hollander in charge of sponsorship deals. I set up fund for board and train. Is couch money.)

Just making use of my free will