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In a Crowded Room (There's Only You) - H/R Fic, Il/ya allergies
She did it! She wrote a proper H/R snzfic one-shot with a plot and everything! Cause I've only been thinking/dreaming/scheming things with these two in my brain for 5 months like the rest of you.
Inspired by a post I saw on here about sneezing in a crowded club/bar. There are some Long Game minor spoilers in here and some characters introduced in other books (Ryan, Fabian) but if you haven't been introduced to them, it should still make sense! Enjoy :)
And this, like my blog, is 18+.
----
It's not that Sh/ane hates clubs, per se. It's just that he'd rather enjoy music or be forced to dance in a settling that wasn't quite so...close? Strobe-lit? Hot in the way a place gets when there's too many bodies too crammed in together?
He cranes his neck to see Il/ya making his way through the crowd towards their spot at the back near the soundboard where the crush of bodies isn't as overwhelming. The success of Fabian's latest album is exciting but it means the venues where he plays have gotten bigger along with the amount of people at his shows.
They always end up near the back of Fabian's shows because of Ryan. He's so tall, it's the only place where he doesn't block anyone's view. And frankly, Shane is okay with it because it also allows a certain amount of anonymity. Every since he and Ilya were outed and became teammates for the Centaurs, his public profile has risen to a level higher than ever before. Now, it's not only hockey fans that recognize the pair, but anyone who watches the news. The media can't get enough of the fact that two professional athletes play on the same team (literally and metaphorically).
As if on cue, Shane sees Ilya stop and exchange a few brief words with a guy in the crowd, leaning in to pose for a selfie. The man, a lithe redhead, roars with laughter at something Ilya has said, and Shane feels a little tinge of jealously flare in his stomach. It’s not that he would ever suspect Ilya of cheating; they're still as obsessed with each other as ever. And it's easy to see why Ilya is drawing attention from the crowd. He's wearing a tight mesh black top that clings to every inch of his chest in a way that had Shane suggesting they skip the concert altogether when they'd started to get ready earlier that evening.
“Hi,” Ilya says in Shane's ear, finally reaching their spot. He presses a cold glass into Shane's hand as he tucks himself behind his back. “Sorry – too many people.”
Shane sips at the cold beer, trying to ignore the sweat pooling along his spine in the closeness of the room. Ilya's hips are tucked against his and Shane can feel the muscle of Ilya's chest against his shoulder blades. He leans back a little against his husband and Ilya tucks his head over Shane's shoulder.
“I'm glad we came,” Ilya says over the opening act's final notes. “I'm excited to hear his new stuff.”
The lighting in the club shifts dramatically as an electronic hum fills the speakers. The crowd chatters with excitement as a technician swaps a few cables onstage and sets out Fabian's violin. There's another flourish of lights, a burst of stage haze, and Fabian emerges to a thunderous cheer from the crowd.
And then the hush. The crowd goes quiet as the first notes fill the air and Shane relaxes a little, trying to get lost in the sound of the strings and Fabian's voice.
There's a slight jostle of people still as the crowd inches forward and latecomers try to get a better view of the stage. Someone hits Shane's elbow and he barely manages to not spill his beer. A group of giggling women pass in front of them, trying to get to the bar but they're blocked by the roped-off soundboard. They pause to survey the scene and Shane nearly chokes when it hits him – the scent of a flowery perfume applied so heavily that he can practically taste it.
From behind him, there's an irritated sniffle from Ilya, inhaled close to Shane's ear.
Instantly, the blood rushes to Shane's cheeks. The sound of Ilya's sniffles is not novel. In fact, come springtime, it's so present that it reaches the point of annoyance. But here, in the closeness of this club and with Ilya pressed against his back, it portends the inevitable – Ilya is going to start sneezing.
And, the thing is, Ilya's sneezing does something to Shane. Something primal and inexplicable and embarrassing and sweet and all together too overwhelming to happen in a crowded club.
“Christ,” Ilya mutters into Shane's ear and his nose presses against Shane's shoulder, giving a sharp rub against the fabric of Shane's t-shirt. “Did she take a bath in that shit?”
Shane can already hear the falter in Ilya's voice and he doesn't need to turn around to know the expression that's forming on his husband's face. He can see it so clearly in his mind: the slight furrow of his brows, the barely parted lips, the fluttering eyelashes.
Ngh-TXGHT!
Ilya jerks into Shane, his head bobbing in and out of Shane's peripheral vision.
The crowd of women have moved on, but the damage is done.
Hehh—eh'TSGHT!
There's a low rumble of Ryan's voice offering a “bless you” and Shane nearly tells him not to bother. There's going to be no end in sight to this.
Shane stares at Fabian, trying desperately to focus on the performance. He takes a deep, steadying breath even as he feels Ilya's own breath rush in and then – Nhhh-TSGHT! Tsh'GGHT!
Ilya's vodka glass is now on a nearby ledge, abandoned in favour of one hand around Shane's waist and the other rubbing at his offended nose. Ilya tucks his head back against Shane's neck and trails the edge of nose briefly along the skin there.
Shane closes his eyes, fighting the building desire. Ilya knows exactly what effect his sneezes have on Shane by this point and he's clearly trying to take advantage of it.
“Not here,” Shane growls softly. “Jesus, Ilya.”
“Can't help it,” Ilya whines into his ear. “So itchy...I....heh...ehh-TSGHT!”
Mercifully, Ilya is stifling the sneezes but Shane feels a small rush of warm air as Ilya sneezes against his t-shirt.
Concussion recognition tools, Shane thinks, trying to bring his focus to the most boring thing he can think of at present. They'd recently reviewed concussion protocols for their Game Changers hockey camps. What are the reasons you should immediately call an ambulance? Neck pain...double vision...loss of consciousness...
TSHH! Hehh'khtshh!—eh’tsghtt!
Ilya's hips are pressing against Shane's ass as he sneezes and Ilya is holding on to Shane...he is fucking doing it on purpose. And it's working. Shane can feel the insistent press against the fly of his jeans. Thank god the club is dark.
“Are you alright?” Ryan asks, staring at Ilya.
There's a thick sniffle next to Shane's ear and then the low rumble of Ilya's voice, now congested-sounding.
“Some had on too much perfume. Sorry – this happens -I just – I –ehh—hehh'TSGHTT!”
Shane has to bite his lip to stop a moan as Ilya bumps against his ass again.
“Maybe we should step outside?” he says through gritted teeth. “Get some air?”
“Yes, good idea,” Ilya agrees.
They make their way across the back of the club – Ilya still occasionally shuddering with suppressed sneezes and Shane trying to subtly hold his hands over his crotch.
Ilya shoulders open an exit door past the bathrooms that leads out to an alley behind the club. It's a warm summer night and insects buzz around a nearby utility light mounted by the door.
“Oh my god,” Shane groans, leaning against the brick wall of the building. “You can't do that in public, Ilya.”
“Do what?” Ilya says innocently, coming towards Shane and reaching down to palm over his jeans. “Make you so hard you nearly cry?”
“I swear, either you stay out here until you stop...until you stop doing you know what...or we might as well just call it a night and go home now,” Shane says, pushing Ilya's hand away even though he wants nothing more than to be touched.
“Or we could -”
“I am not letting you give me a hand job in a back alley downtown, Ilya.”
Shane looks up at his husband for the first time since the perfume assault, and a rush of affection and desire washes over him. Ilya's nose is pink at the edges and his eyes are starting to water.
“Especially not like this,” Shane adds, reaching up to thumb a bit of irritation away from Ilya's eyelashes.
Ilya sniffles and shrugs.
“Fine. Longer we wait, less I sneeze.”
“I know that isn't true,” Shane says with a smirk as he takes out his phone to call their car service. He taps a few buttons on an app and pockets the phone again. “They'll be on the side street in two minutes.”
“Fine,” Ilya concedes. “Only cause they always have tissues in the cars and I need one. But while we wait, I will tell you what I will do to you when we get home.”
fill of another prompt from this ask. to be honest, i am not a huge fan of this piece since it's like. just shoving stuff into canon and that usually is very limiting to me.
that being said, i remembered i can write short fic! so here's ~0.8K
“Oh, fuck. It’s Hayden.”
The look Ilya gives him is utterly offended.
“He just had a baby, I haven’t talked to him in weeks,” Shane argues, swiping his thumb across his phone screen to answer the call. Ilya groans. “Hey, buddy.”
“Hey! Is this a good time?” Hayden asks, voice cheerful and tinny from the receiver.
“Yeah, uh—uh, how’s, um…”
“I haven’t spoken to you in, like, a month,” he goes on, talking over Shane’s stammering. “I mean, the season ended and you just… vanished.”
“I know, I’m so sorry.”
Ilya rolls his eyes and flops back onto the couch, only to crunch back up a moment later to crush a sneeze into his fist. And then, because he’s Ilya, another double, and one more after a moment’s hesitation. Shane glances over to mouth bless you at him, and Ilya waves him off. He’s been sensitive all day, nose twitchy and pink around the edges from irritation, and he’s not been able to go more than fifteen minutes without sneezing. He’s blamed it on the (in his words) “stupid fucking Canadian foliage,” and while he’s taken a dose of antihistamines, they’ve not kicked in yet. Or aren’t doing shit. Come to think of it, they’re probably expired.
He shifts his attention back over to Hayden, resolving to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Part of him squeezes guiltily at the thought of trying to head off his best friend, but he and Ilya don’t really get to have time with each other. It’s always a calculation, and now that they’re not fighting the rest of the world to be together, he doesn’t want anything to interfere.
“But how’s—Amber, right? How is she?” He slaps Ilya’s hand away when he starts walking his fingers up his thigh, then glares at him. If he can just wait five minutes…
Ilya brings his hand up to rub at his nose again, and immediately flinches into his chest with two sneezes, and then a third after a moment’s hesitation. His jaw drops slightly, eyes hazy, and fuck, he’s not done.
“She’s doing great!” Hayden is saying, and from his voice, it’s clear that he’s beaming. “Perfectly healthy, and just adorable. You got the pics I sent you, right?”
“Oh, yeah, the pics are cute.”
Next to him, Ilya chokes through another silent triple. He’s flushed a faint pink from embarrassment across his cheeks and the tips of his ears, his eyes starting to water from allergic irritation, and his tongue is poking out of his mouth just slightly as he squints vaguely.
“She’s been feeding really well, too. Latching consistently and everything; she’s been much easier than Arthur.”
“Aw, good, good,” says Shane, angling his torso away from Ilya and doing his best to ignore the apparent allergy attack occurring five feet from him. “And, uh, Jackie’s good, too?”
“Yeah! Definitely tired, but nothing unexpected.”
“Is it better than, um…”
Ilya, having decided that he does, in fact, need Shane’s attention immediately, weaponizes the downtime between sneezing and moves closer to Shane, pressing his face into the back of Shane’s hoodie and making a soft whining noise that makes him grit his teeth.
Oblivously, Hayden continues talking. “This is going much better than Arthur’s, yeah. Jackie’s been in touch with her doctor about it, so…”
Whatever else he says disappears under the static that consumes his mind once Ilya twitches with another fit, mashing his nose directly into Shane’s spine and apparently relying on the fabric to muffle the sound for him. “h’Mptsh! mp’tsHh–tshh! mK’iew!”
“Oh my God,” Shane exhales.
“What?”
“Yeah, no, I–I remember that, that was a tough time,” Shane chokes out. “Look, Hayd, I’m so sorry, but I–I’ve gotta run, I’m supposed to be handling a couple of things for my mom—”
“No, yeah, of course! Just text me when you actually have time, I’ll make sure you can talk to Ruby and Jade, too.”
“That’d be great. Talk to you later.”
He cannot hang up fast enough. Shane twists and is met with an eyeful of amused, albeit allergic, Russian.
“Not very Canadian of you,” he observes.
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Oh, it’s my fault that my immune system does not like your country’s stupid plants?”
“Ilya.”
“Shane,” he repeats, mocking. It’s undercut by another little gasp, and then Ilya raises his fist and ducks into it with a set of itchy, utterly ineffective half-stifles. “ihy’schh–tshh–shh’uh! kh’gKT!”
“Bless—”
“gk’TSH’uh! ih’yshh–shh–shhiu!”
“Bless—”
“TSHH! hy’KSHH—eh’tshh!”
“Are you done?”
Ilya sniffles. “Mbaybe.”
Shane raises his eyebrows.
“For ndow,” amends Ilya, rolling his eyes and flopping back into the couch. “I wandt to kick your ass in the video gambe, combe ond.”
⋆ · 𖤓 · ⋆ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 ··· a collection of soup gone cold and blankets shared, the intimacy of being cared for when you are at your worst. genre: romance, hurt and comfort, soft angst, domestic.
You're burning up. Don't argue with me. Get back in bed.
I made soup. It's not great. Eat it anyway.
You should have called me the moment you started feeling like this.
Stop trying to get up. There is nothing on this earth that needs you upright right now.
I found three blankets and a hot water bottle. Pick your combination.
You look terrible. I mean that with so much love.
Let me take your temperature. Stop being difficult about the thermometer.
I cancelled everything. Don't apologize. I wanted to be here.
You fell asleep mid-sentence. I stayed anyway. I hope that's okay.
Drink the tea. Yes, all of it. I'll make more.
I've been checking on you every hour. You keep telling me to go home. I keep not going.
Your voice sounds awful. Rest it. We can talk tomorrow.
I'm not going anywhere. Stop thanking me for staying.
You hate being taken care of. I know. Do it for me anyway.
The fever broke. I don't think you know how relieved I am right now.
Sleep. I'll be right here. I'll wake you up if anything changes.
I brought your favourite thing from the place on the corner. Don't cry. Please don't cry.
You're a terrible patient and somehow I still want to be the one doing this.
I know you think you're being a burden. You are not a burden.
Let me sit with you. I don't need to talk. I just don't want you to be alone.
You tried to make your own tea and you could barely stand up. Sit down. I've got it.
I've seen you strong. This doesn't make you weak. It just makes you human.
You smell like fever and you still somehow look like everything to me.
Lay your head here. Right here. I've got nowhere I need to be.
I brought every movie you've ever mentioned. We have time.
You're mumbling in your sleep. I'm not going to tell you what you said.
I changed the sheets while you were in the shower. Don't make it weird.
You need to eat something real. I know you don't want to. Eat something real.
I've been sitting in this chair for four hours. I'd do it four more.
Stop apologizing for being sick. People get sick. Let me help you.
Your hands are cold. Give them here. I'll warm them up.
I found the medicine in the back of the cabinet. Take it. All of it. Don't negotiate.
You're not inconveniencing me. Taking care of you is exactly where I want to be.
I didn't know you got like this when you were sick. Softer. I like knowing this about you.
You asked for me. Out of everyone, you asked for me. I haven't stopped thinking about that.
The heating pad is on the lowest setting. Tell me if you need it warmer.
I'm not leaving until your temperature is normal. Make your peace with that.
You cried a little when the soup was too hot to eat yet. I pretended not to notice.
I've never seen you let anyone take care of you before. I'm honoured. I mean that.
Your hair is a mess. Can I? Is that okay? Let me just — there.
You keep saying you're fine every time I check and you are so obviously not fine.
This is the third night in a row. I'm not going anywhere. Stop looking at me like that.
You're delirious and still trying to be funny. It's working. Please stop, I'm worried about you.
I learned how to make your mother's recipe. It took three attempts. Don't tell her.
There's nowhere I'd rather be than right here, even like this. Especially like this.
You always take care of everyone else. Just this once, let someone take care of you.
I left the light on in the hall in case you woke up scared. I remember you mentioned that once.
I'm here. I've got you. Just rest. Everything else can wait.
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i’m such a fever lover bro. like yes you’re delirious. yes you’re sweaty but you’re shivering. yeah you’re cuddling up to whoever, yeah you’re pathetic.
A special good night to all the people who breathily warn "I'm gonna sneeze..." while their gaze unfocuses and all they can do is give into the building tickle before snapping forward with their sneeze ❤️ (congrats on being the hottest people ever)
happy pride to the asexual snzfuckers who were very confused about how they could be into no one and also snz at the same time! it’s a wild experience, but i love that there are so many of us on here and that the snz community is so inclusive when it comes to asexuality <3
con/nor deserves an award for beautifully bringing i/lya rozanov to life and it’s so unfortunate that he likely will not be able to be professionally recognized for it because of eligibility criteria in canada and america. He put his all into the character, read the books and genuinely loves and adores I/lya.
i know he is going to deliver a heartbreakingly-stunning performance next season and i absolutely want to see him nominated and awarded for it. When I was watching heated rivalry for the first time i could not believe that connor was NOT from russia. He completely transformed and iirc Rachel mentioned in an interview that when she met him she couldn’t make eye contact with him because she knew that he was her Ilya! 🥹
Also Jacob Tierney saying that they were specifically seeking out Canadian talent for the roles but ultimately going for connor because he was so good is incredible. Connor is so freaking talented and seeing him excluded from the awards hurt me more than i thought it would😔😭
Also to see jacob and brenden sound so dismissive about it when asked about the show not being eligible for the emmys rubbed me the wrong way??? Jacob saying “awards are stupid” while the whole cast(minus connor and christina) sweep every single award possible. And not to mention the only person in contention for an emmy would’ve been connor, as far as ive seen he is the only one in the emmy conversation, not the show itself.
I just think that is odd to comment that when its one of your lead actors for your show that is in this conversation and all of the sudden awards are stupid? Like okay if its stupid why are you at an award show lmao😹
And i know that Connor’s role has been wildly praised by everyone that has watched him, he isnt lacking in recognition at all. But as a greedy fan whol loves both connor and ilya with everything i have i need him to get his award because he deserves it. Also His character was one of the standouts!! if ilya would not have been played correctly that show would not have blown up the way it did. He played such a huge part in its success. So pls give him the winged woman.
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I/lya definitely lived with C/liff during his rookie year and C/liff definitely had to change every detergent and cleaning product in his house after the accident (I/lya started with little clusters of sneezes for like two days but ended the week in the ER with C/liff on his side because he got rashes and he couldn’t breathe properly (C/liff is usually exactly the same when he gets a strong allergic reaction))
a sickie who's too tired to take proper care of themselves, so when their partner finds them, all they can do is sigh and say "oh sweetheart, why didn’t you at least text me?"
Have you ever been sneezed on before? If so tell me all the juicy details :)
I have not! Tbh it’s not something ive ever really fantasized about im a germophobe lolz which i know completely contradicts me liking cold snzs 🤷🏽♀️😄
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