“I looked it up, you know,” Shane offers one morning as they sit in the kitchen of the cottage, both sipping on stemming mugs of coffee and gazing out the windows to the stunning view beyond. “In Russian.”

Ilya’s suddenly transported back to a different conversation–this one in Florida, about the word ‘compatible.’ “Looked what up?” he asks, feeling suddenly tense. He’s said a lot in Russian over the years that he probably shouldn’t have–emotions he’d tried desperately to quell and secrets he’d really wanted to hide. Yes, they’ve agreed to be honest now but that doesn’t mean he has to approach Shane with his beating heart on a silver platter.

But Shane just glances over to him for a half a second, his watery, dark, knowing eyes looking directly through Ilya like a goddamn x-ray. “Solnyshko.” 

Ilya’s heart flips. It’s a pet name he’s slipped into during the past few days, quite without his own consent. It’s just…Shane is his sunshine. The world is so much fucking brighter whenever he’s around, and there are no words to describe how good it feels to be able to look at him and smile without feeling like he’ll be eternally damned for it.

Still…

“Means ‘asshole,’” he grunts almost shyly, eyes on the lake outside, where he can see a loon floating menacingly. 

Shane’s chuckle makes something terrifyingly warm go molten in Ilya’s chest. “Yeah? That’s not what Google said.”

“Google is liar.”

“Google said my boyfriend’s secretly a romantic, I think,” Shane pushes, and Ilya can feel him staring.

So, brave as he can be, he makes eye contact. “Maybe,” he hedges, but he can’t stop his lips from curling upward at the edges.

Shane looks ridiculously pleased. “Good,” he murmurs, sipping his drink again.

the category is body 😛