Anything and Everything

Summary:

Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov live a simple life. They make breakfast with their daughter, Olive. They go to work. They do laundry. But beneath the surface is a spreading decay eating away at their marriage, their relationship with their child, and the way they interact with the world around them, which they're completely unwilling to acknowledge. Will they do the work to get back what once was? Is there anything worth saving?

Or

The Omegaverse Blue Valentine AU no one asked for but that I haven't been able to stop thinking of since Hudson mentioned his love for Michelle Williams.

WC: 26,394

Excerpt:

“You! What is your name?” He asked gruffly from his seat at one of the tables, legs sprawled in front of him like he was at home and not at a nursing home. 

Shane stared at him blankly, his brain working through the request. Not because he didn’t understand the question, but because he couldn't understand why he’d asked it. 

He peered over his shoulder just to be sure, and pointed at himself. “Me?” 

The blonde man shrugged. “Yes, you. I know everyone else here. Agnes and I clean up at the poker table on Thursdays.” 

Agnes did nothing to negate this story, let the man bump their shoulders together like they were lifelong friends. It was so weird. 

“Shane. Shane Hollander.” He answered, not sure why he answered him. 

He went back to his job of doling out juice and cups of jello. And he didn’t think about blonde curls or too-tight T-shirts on dumb alphas. Bobby wouldn’t like him thinking about other guys. The thought of Bobby alone is enough to dampen his thoughts. He could feel his scent glands go sour, only knowing it must be bad because Ilya seemed to notice through his scent blockers. Eddie, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice much of anything, let alone the other omegas in the room. Shane could feel the Russian guy’s eyes on him while he worked. 

“Ilya.” He called out over a hand of cards. 

“Huh?” 

He placed a queen of hearts down, much to the irritation of Agnes. Shane couldn’t understand why. He had no idea what durak was. 

“My name. Ilya. Ilya Rozanov. You wanted to know my name.” 

It made him pause and then smile against his will. The playful cockiness of it all. It was kind of stupid, and he likes it. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

Ilya tilted his head in silent question. “I’m pretty sure you did.” 

Summary:

Shane and Ilya usher in the finale of Canada Day. Kip offers Shane an opportunity for companionship. Shane and Ilya have a fight and the rest of the gang meet to plot and scheme and not help in any way whatsoever. Observations are made. Hearts are cracked, but not broken. Not completely. Door handles are though.

WC: 21k

Exceprt:

They walk off in lock step towards the quieter end of the beach. There’s a large fallen branch that acts as a love seat for them to rest their plates on and sit mostly free from the sun. Shane doesn’t know where to start, still reeling from his conversation with Kip. And Ilya doesn’t move to fill the silence either. So they sit together for a while, the sun warming their backs, and the spray from the ocean waves against the sand sometimes wetting their lips. It’s calming, the scenery. Maybe it’s what makes it easier to speak. Between torn pieces of sourdough and shared salt and vinegar chips. 

“So…I don’t know if we’re fighting or not.” Shane starts for them both, rubbing at the sea salt starting to stain his lips. “I feel bad that I don’t know, and I keep having to ask you to hold my hand through this entire relationship…But I promise I’m trying.” 

“I know you are.” Ilya sighs quickly and grabs for Shane’s ankle nestled amongst the sand, his thumb digging into the jut of the bone to help ground him. “Is not a matter of will. I know this.”

Shane breathed deep because the touch really does help, and looks him in the eyes. 

“Then why won’t you talk to me? I mean, really talk to me?” He asks. “You’re hiding from me, I know it.” 

“I am not hiding. I don’t ever want to hide from you. But I don’t have the answers you need. So…sometimes I think is better to stay silent than to risk hurting you.” 

Shane pauses to see how it feels. Where it lives. And it kind of irritates him. It buzzes somewhere near his throat and fills his eardrums like water or wax. It tingles in his fingers like some sort of agency he’s been robbed of, a decision made for him instead of by him. 

Shane frowned, turning closer to Ilya, his food forgotten, “That’s not fair…You can’t know that.” 

And Ilya just stares at him like it should be obvious. Like he’s not breaking new ground, but rehashing the old that Shane hadn’t been diligent enough to notice. 

Summary:

Shane and Ilya share breakfast. Canada Day festivities ensue. Rosé happens. Svetlana and Rose find themselves in the closet. And Shane and Ilya don't fight.

Wordcount: 11k

Excerpt:

“Little fox, I’m getting tired of waking up alone because you are stress cleaning,” Ilya sighs. “But I do appreciate the view.”

Shane turns around from his position on the ground, hands and knees digging into the tile, and rolls his eyes. 

“Funny. I’m almost done.” 

“Almost done, what? Cleaning the air? The caterers are setting up in the kitchen. Why don’t you come watch and make sure they do good job?” Ilya suggests. 

And Shane can’t say it doesn’t sound like a good idea. They make their way into the kitchen where the caterers are setting up a breakfast-style buffet. Shane had gotten whatever the top-tier package was, just in case, to make sure everything went perfectly. He stays to the side of the kitchen to keep an eye on it all, not wanting to be in the way, but wanting to see everything as it unfolds. He feels comfortable in the fray of logistics, no matter the topic, watches with a keen eye as table napkins are unfolded, and fruit is prepared in creative designs that no one but Shane will really care about. He breathes a little easier as he watches, getting caught up in the spectacle and farther away from his morning rumination. So, of course, Ilya goes and steps right into the middle of things without so much as an “excuse me”.

Shane wants to stop him, can feel the air building in his chest to do just that, when he gets a little caught up watching him instead. Ilya’s movements are sure, even at the cabin. Shane’s interior design skills left something to be desired, but he had truly organized his home in the perfect way for humane living. Ilya caught on quickly in Montreal. Shane still remembered the first time he watched him make tea–a thing he now regularly stocked in his kitchen. He watched him with the kettle, watched the way his fingers navigated Shane’s kitchen like it was his own. Without thought. Just instinct. Shane had blown him in the breakfast nook for that. And he’s thinking of doing the same now when he remembers his boyfriend’s sexy ultimatum that would surely result in Shane’s untimely, yet welcomed, demise. 

Instead, Shane watches Ilya grab a bagel from a bowl of different breads, muffins, and pastries laid out by the caterers. He locates the toaster on the counter to the left of the sink, away from the refrigerator where the blender went–because, duh–and flips the switch down without an ease that makes Shane emotional. Because they’re here now. Here in his cabin, the space that made him feel safest, like he could be a person and breathe without anguish. And Ilya is here making breakfast before the caterers feed everyone, because he can, and because he knows where everything is. It’s this perfect little microcosm of the world Shane is trying to build for himself. With him. 

Ilya goes in search of a banana and manages to find a plastic knife that Shane is sure must be from a takeout order months ago. He moves seamlessly within the kitchen, sliding in between caterers and moving platters, fully at home both in his skin and in his environment. Shane hopes that he is. Not in a “speed-run-the-relationship” way, but in a “home-is-us-together” way. 

He gets lost in daydreams of summers with more visitors. Hayden and Jackie. The kids…His dad. For some reason, he could see his dad there with them, but not his mom. Not yet. He gets stuck on that, and before Shane knows what’s happening, he’s being steered to the kitchen table against his will, and he doesn’t even get to watch the caterers set up the nut-based milks for the cereal bar. (That was his favorite part.) Instead, Ilya is placing a small plate in front of him, Shane getting a whiff of almond butter and cinnamon, as his boyfriend locks his arms behind his back in some sort of Russian version of “ta-da”. 

He stares up at Ilya, dumbfounded. 

“Uh… It’s not time for breakfast yet. No one else is awake.” 

Silly Ilya. 

Ilya nods in understanding, doesn’t argue that Shane is missing the bigger picture in his focus on the details. “You will be hovering whole time…watching everyone else eat, yes? To make sure it all goes according to plan? You eat something now…before riff-raff wakes up.” 

He looks down at his plate–because apparently it was his plate– and back to Illya’s expectant gaze, like he’s daring Shane to refuse him. Shane swallows so loudly at the thought of Ilya feeding him that he’s worried the entire house will hear it. He peers over at the caterers like they’ll notice. Because how could anyone not notice that Ilya is trying to feed him?

“You made me breakfast…” He trails off.

“...I made you breakfast. You will eat?” 

He doesn’t even answer. Shane grabs one of the slices of bagel and bites into it until there’s almond butter on his nose and banana in his teeth. He realizes there are chia seeds and recognizes the complete macros of the meal before him. Healthy fats. Carbs. Protein and Fiber. The reality of it is so tender that it truly makes him come up short. He has to pause and breathe and chew and breathe… While Ilya stares at him. Not searching. Not inquisitive. Just stares in recognition. As if to say, I am here, and I see you. At seven-thirty in the morning. With a bagel. 

“What about you?” Shane asks, working to swallow around the bite of food. And to hide what he knows is the buildup of water in his eyes. 

Ilya slips his hand onto the back of Shane’s neck, keeps him from shifting his gaze. Shane presses back into the contact, and they stare at each other as he takes another bite. Without thinking, without speaking. Shane knows intuitively that Ilya won’t answer him until he’s swallowed his food. The thought makes Shane flush, and he reaches for the glass of water on the table in front of him to stop himself from choking. Ilya pretends not to notice. 

“You want me to eat too?” Ilya asks, when the food has made its way past his throat.