we are like young volcanoes

“I, um, made borscht. I don't know if you're hungry but I figured you might be. I googled and it said borscht is a common Russian comfort food and I thought you might need that right now,” Shane says with a small smile. He's still wearing those fucking glasses too. “Do you? Like borscht, that is.”

“Do I like borscht?” Ilya asks stupidly.

Shane made him borscht. Shane made Ilya borscht because he thought he might need comfort.

“I don't know if I made it right. I looked up authentic Russian recipes and It had the most good reviews. But I'm sure you're used to it a certain way, so it might be–”

“Shane, I love it. I would love to try it,” Ilya says, feeling nervous.

Sadly, Shane removes his glasses and sets them on top of his book as he pads over to the kitchen. He serves Ilya a bowl, silently passing him a Coke and the tub of sour cream.

When Ilya takes the first bite it feels like his insides all warm up.

“It's perfect,” Ilya declares. “Thank you. It's been a long day. It's just what I needed.”

~~~~~

The next fic is a big one -- Duty of Care by the cutest username boopboop.

As the summary says, the fic is simply all "Ilya Rozanov, get loved." Or 25 chapters of the different ways in which people in Ilya's life, especially the Hollanders, show their love for Ilya and care for him. The fic has some of the most detailed descriptions of the Hollanders and lots of other food mentions too, so I'll probably come back to it again in the future. This scene happens in chapter 4 and it's full of angst 😭. Earlier David came to watch Ilya play a home game to be supportive and the Centaurs lose as they usually do, but Ilya thinks he will be punished by David. They have some yummy borscht ready for him and just want him to have a good dinner but Ilya misreads everything and braces himself for physical punishment. Of course, all that is resolved in the end but it's a sad reminder of how different Ilya's childhood was. The whole series is great and I highly recommend it.

Here are a few lines:

~~~~~

Yuna is waiting for them inside. David’s not told her he’s bringing Ilya home, but she’s draped his favorite blanket over the couch, and there’s the sweet, earthy scent of borscht coming from the kitchen that makes it clear he’s made the right call.

Ilya stands hunched, only half-present, as Yuna ushers him to the kitchen table and starts to dish up. The borscht sits steaming in bowls, bright magenta against the white enamel, and Ilya goes even greyer at the sight.

~~~~~