darkest - hollanov - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 658 - based on a request by chilton_2003 on ao3! - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3
It's not even Ilya's word that makes Shane pause, it's the hesitation in it. By this point, they're both used to this: the time apart, the heated reunions. Summers together and long stretches of time apart. Relishing in time they have and yearning for so, so much more.
So when Shane enters Ilya's new Ottawa place (with his own key, because Ilya gave him one the second he signed the papers, just like Ilya has a key to Shane's place), he doesn't think before crashing into his boyfriend, before smashing their lips together to make up for time lost.
But Ilya, who usually is even more eager than Shane, who usually adores texting Shane about exactly what he's going to do when they see each other again, is hesitating.
Shane's stomach drops. "What?" he asks, pulling back.
Ilya looks nervous. "I, um. Maybe did something stupid."
Immediately, Shane's anxious brain takes over, his darkest fears playing out in his mind’s eye. Was Ilya breaking up with him? Had he cheated? God, had he cheated with multiple people? Fuck, with who? When? He should have known this was too good to last, Ilya was too good for him, he-
But Ilya is talking, stuttering a bit. "I just missed you," he's saying, wincing a bit. "Was, um. Not thinking. Got drunk with teammates..."
Well fuck. Yep, Ilya really had cheated. Of course he had. Stupidly, Shane can't even bring himself to blame him for it, not at all. Some of Ilya's teammates are so good-looking and Ilya could do so much better than Shane. But what did this mean for them? Were they done? How bad had it been? Had Ilya at least thought of him? What--?
"So I did...this.." Ilya says, and then...removes his shirt?
Shane can't properly process what he sees, because he's so busy looking for love bites. But the plain expanse of skin in front of him is unmarred, until-
It's a loon. A fucking loon tattoo, new and still healing, stretched across his boyfriend's bicep. And Shane wants to die with how perfect it is. "Ilya," he whispers, his voice strangled and broken and full of relief.
"I know. I maybe should have told you when I got it. But I was nervous you might not like it, and--" Ilya begins to explain, completely unaware of Shane's inner turmoil.
"You got a tattoo for me?" Shane interrupts, about to collapse to the ground.
In the back of his mind, he knows about what most people say: don't get tattoos for partners. You never know how things will change, it could jinx things, blah blah blah. But now, as he stares at the ink etched into his boyfriend's skin, all he can do is focus on the way his chest is expanding, his body filling with adoration and possessiveness and lust.
This tattoo is permanent on Ilya's body.
He is permanent in Ilya's life. Completely undeniable.
"I fucking love it," he chokes out, words strangled with the love undulating through his body. "It's...fuck, Ilya, can I touch it...?"
The smile on Ilya's face lights up the entire room. "Yes? You like it?"
"I love it." His hands are on Ilya's arm, tracing lightly, making sure it's real. And yes, it's there. A reminder of Shane is carved into the man's body, and barbaric as it is, Shane is breathless with the sight.
The words slip from his lips before he can grab them, but it's okay because Ilya seems to easily take them from the air and adore them, his lips twitching upward even further. "Yes? Maybe eighty-one on your ass, hmm?"
But Shane can already picture it. "No. A lily. Here." He points to his left pec, right above his heart.
Ilya melts a little, eyes going from teasing to soft. "I would like that," he murmurs.
It ends up being a wedding present.