shane mimics things. not all the time, but a lot of the time, mostly when theyβre alone. itβs one thing on the ever evolving list of things that ilya rozanov finds endearing about his boyfriend. shane mimics bird calls at the cottage- not just the loons but always and especially the loons- and he mimics the goal horn after he scores on the ice and repeats commentary back to the announcers under his breath while watching tape. he even mimics the little songs the washer and dryer sing when their cycles are done. above all else though he mimics ilya. he recognizes it immediately the first time shane is complaining to him about dishes, the little missing articles in his sentences like βis not hard, ilya!β and βmug is dirty so put in washer.β ilya really wants to chirp him for it but he just looks so earnest and flushed with frustration, how could ilya refuse? so he rinses his coffee mug, puts it upside down in the dishwasher and presses a kiss to shaneβs temple and files the interaction away for later. from there the mimicking only got more frequent and more pronounced, so much so that ilya thinks shane must be doing it on purpose.
one day when they happen to be in the same city at the same time and shane says something just devastatingly canadian, ilya thinks itβs the perfect opportunity to get him back. he repeats shaneβs words but with an extra layer of maple syrup on top just to drive the point home. he grins at him and waits but shane doesnβt laugh. he pauses the smoothie heβs making for himself, frozen strawberry in hand and just stares at ilya for awhile.
βiβve been echoing you havenβt i?β shane says and his voice is so blank it makes ilya stand up straight where he was leaning on the counter before.
βif echo is what you call it, yes. you steal my accent.β
βoh.β shane nods and plunks the strawberry into the blender and turns it on without giving the βloud noiseβ warning he usually does. he stares at the white yogurt and ice, watching it all crunch together and go pink. shane watches the blender and ilya watches him and niether of them say anything when he pours his drink into his glass and walks away.
itβs been a few hours now and shane isnβt exactly ignoring ilya. he still lets ilya press up against him on the couch and runs his fingers through his hair while he types stupid boring emails on his laptop. but he isnβt talking. and itβs not a good silence. itβs not a silence that says βiβm happy and content so thereβs nothing to sayβ or even βiβm overwhelmed can we just sit and not talk for awhile.β itβs a thick, heavy silence that says βi shouldnβt have talked at all and now i donβt know how to talk again.β it makes ilya feel sick to his stomach that he unintentionally made his boyfriend so sad.
ilya props his chin up on shaneβs shoulder, he weighs his words carefully before deciding on βyou canβt help it can you? your echo?β
shane shakes his head and says βnoβ and then βyesβ and then βi donβt know, sometimes?β he rubs his eyes behind his glasses and it would be adorable if it wasnβt a clear sign of distress.
ilya nudges his nose against shaneβs long since healed collar bone to say, βtell me how it works.β
shane sighs but itβs more out of loving exasperation than real upset so ilya knows heβs on the right track. shane moves his laptop from his lap to the nearby coffee table and ilya doesnβt wait for permission before replacing it with himself. ilya would give just about anything for shane to look up at him.
βi can help it if i focus really hard but itβs like holding in a sneeze.β shane drums his fingers on ilyaβs ribs and ilya hums in return, βi try to stop but then things echo around in my head.β he stops for a second and ilya knows to wait for him to continue βi donβt want to make fun of you. iβm not trying to. i really like how you talk, your voice, how you make things sound- i donβt know.β
finally, ilya leaps at the chance to lighten the mood, βmy voice is very sexy- shame we cannot all be russian, some of us have to be boring.β
βoh fuck off.β shane shoves him away but heβs smiling just a little at the corners of his mouth and heβs finally looking up at ilya with those brown eyes. βthere you are.β
βmm no, donβt think so.β iyla takes his chin and kisses him eagerly on the lips, βyou like me.β then he bites him on his cheek, βyou want to sound like best hockey player ever.β
βyou asshole,β shane counterintuitively pulls him closer so their noses bump, βyouβre ruining my english. iβve worked hard on it, you know?β
βpoor shane, so sad.β
after quite awhile and quite a few kisses later ilya is back in his spot again, nose tucked in crook of shaneβs neck. the silence around them is the light comfortable kind.
βyou donβt actually think i sound like that right? the thing you did?β
βno shane, i donβt think you say βehβ.β
