I was bored... this happened...
Shane looked deeply, profoundly unimpressed.
Not because Ilya was wearing the robe. Shane had already accepted that Ilya treated dignity like an optional side quest.
The pink robe swept dramatically around his legs like he was accepting an Oscar for “Most Likely To Be Removed From a Hotel Lobby,” fluffy trim trailing behind him while polished brown dress shoes clicked across the hardwood floor.
“You tied it tighter,” Shane observed.
“You are still not wearing pants.”
Ilya spread his arms. “Why hide perfection?”
Shane adjusted the sleeves of his pale blue nightshirt with sharp, offended movements. The long sleeping cap drooped over one eye, which should have ruined any attempt at authority, but somehow only made him look stricter. “The shoes are what concern me.”
“The shoes are outside shoes.”
“That’s not how contamination works.”
Ilya leaned against the kitchen counter, entirely too pleased with himself. “You sound like disappointed grandmother.”
“You walked across snow in those yesterday.”
“The point,” Shane said carefully, “is that no rational adult puts on formal leather shoes with…” He gestured helplessly at the explosion of pink chiffon and feathers. “…whatever this is.”
Ilya looked down at himself thoughtfully.
“You look like a figure skater going through a divorce.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Are you sure? It sounded like one.”
Shane exhaled slowly through his nose. “Please take the shoes off before you grind salt into the floor.”
Instead, Ilya stepped closer on purpose.
“You are tiny dictator,” he said fondly.
Ilya grinned, bright and smug and devastating. “Yet you continue keeping me around.”
Then muttered, “Unfortunately.”
Ilya’s smile softened immediately, turning warm beneath all the theatrics. He reached over and straightened the floppy end of Shane’s sleeping cap with surprising gentleness.
“For record,” he said quietly, “you look very cute.”
Shane went pink to the ears.
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