love, pyramus

His volume finally gets Ilya to move. "Okay," he whispers, "shh, shh." He goes to Shane's side and takes his open hand, and his knees go weak at feeling it warm in his own.

"Yes," Shane hisses happily, his eyes drifting shut. "Bet-ter," he pronounces.

Heart in his throat, Ilya studies his face, looking for any lingering trace of injury, but the Silent Brothers and Shane's parabatai had healed it away. Shane is still pale from the effort of healing, making the freckles on his faces stand out even more. Even here, he's beautiful.

Ilya glances down between them, at Shane's thumb rubbing the back of his hand, as if to check he's still here. "You scared me," he confesses softly.

Shane hums. "'M'sorry."

"It's okay," Ilya whispers. He can't resist brushing a touch over Shane's cheek, warm under his fingers.

Shane smiles, prettier than any angel in Ilya's imagination, and leans into Ilya's touch. "And sorry 'bout last night. Hayden's hunt fucked up my plan."

Ilya presses his lips together, fighting a smile. "You will get him back for it, I'm sure."

Shane blinks his eyes open. They're a little distant, glazed over—the aftereffects of the venom—but still him, the man Ilya's come to know piece by piece, hour by hour in the time they've stolen away together. "When will we get another chance?" he whispers.

The question nearly takes Ilya out at the knees. He feels it, the desire to stay here at Shane's side, to tell the Praetor and the Clave to fuck off and be wherever Shane needs him to be. Whatever he wants.

But that's not how this works. Shane's family and life are here, and while Ilya doesn't have the former, the latter he can only find somewhere else. Coming here last night was a mistake. Ilya's heart is in too deep, and to keep pretending it isn't is too painful to bear.

"I'm sorry," Ilya rasps, "I don't know."

Shane's mouth turns down in a frown, dark eyes wide, and Ilya aches. "You'll be at the Accords signing right?"

Ilya allows himself a nod. He can't imagine it will be any more enjoyable than the meeting last month, but Wiebe was counting on him, so he would be there.

"Will you come to the cottage after?" Shane asks.

"I –" can't. I can't. "I don't know." He couldn't. He shouldn't. For Shane's sake even more than his.

Shane's hand twists in his grip, turning to interlock their fingers. "We could have a week, or even two, Ilya." His expression turns wistful, watching their joined hands. "Haven't you ever wanted more time?"

"Of course," Ilya blurts out. It was the last thing he should have said, but it was the honest answer.

"Then come with me," Shane pleads, "after the Accords. We'd be completely alone. Together. As long as you want to stay."

His words were still slurred by the Elapid venom, but it still sounded so perfect, and Shane was looking up at Ilya like he would shatter if Ilya said no.

"Maybe," Ilya answers, like the coward he is. "Maybe."

Shane beams, and Ilya thinks about doing more selfish, cowardly things, like kiss him, but then there's a knock at the door.