Chapter Text
Shane really tried to deny that he was getting sick, or at the very least postpone it. He put in the work, he took vitamin D, he took some Tylenol, he drank a couple of of those disgusting ginger-turmeric-lemon “immune booster” shots that he knew a few of his teammates liked from a local juice spot, chugged water and electrolytes like it was his job, everything for the past few days since he started getting a cough. But it seemed to be in vain.
Currently, he was laying in bed, bundled up in a hoodie, a pair of sweats, fuzzy socks, and about every blanket in the house to fight off the chills and to try and warm the aches he felt, with a 39.4° fever, a stuffy nose, a sore throat, a bad cough, and an upset stomach that occasionally made whatever he had tried to swallow down come up, leading him to put the trash bin from the bathroom close to his bed in case he couldn’t make it in time.
He had gotten his flu shot this year too, like he did every year. He even did the PSA campaign that the Public Health Agency of Canada asked him and Ilya to do with some other stars. This was a cruel joke on him from the universe.
He saw his phone light up with a text and smiled softly when he picked it up and saw the contact.
Lily: saw you’re out against Anaheim
Lily: everything okay ?
Shane: I got the flu
Lily: I thought you got shot ?
Lily: I was with you when you got shot. I held your hand through it while you bitch about needles. We did ad, how you still get sick?
Shane: sometimes you can still get it. We literally said it in the PSA. I guess I’m just unlucky this time.
Lily: what happen to your line ? Play defense against the flu ! You already forget !
Shane was going to kill him.
Lily: so what you doing now?
Shane: in bed, drinking water, trying to eat a bagel, and not feel like I’m dying.
He planned to put on the Centaurs game against Raleigh tonight and the Voyageurs game against Anaheim, though right now he had the TV set on some home improvement show. Currently the realtor was describing how the house had originally been built in the 20s and Shane was a little worried the new buyers were going to paint the entire place millennial grey, put in some shitty butcher block countertops, and rip out the beautiful dark hardwood flooring.
Shane: don’t you have a game in a couple hours? You need to focus on that.
Lily: so I should not focus on my hot boyfriend who is dying?
Shane: I’m not dying, it’s the flu, I’ll be fine.
Lily: you just said you were dying !
Shane: I love you, kick some ass
Lily: I love you too )))))))
Lily: I will score for you tonight. You will feel better after I do.
Shane: I’m sure I will. Go get ready. I love you.
Shane put his phone down and did his best not to vomit as he ate the dry, toasted bagel and sipped some ginger ale. He had a whole heap of bottles on his bedside table: one for water, some Gatorade, some medicine he got from the doctor, and the aforementioned ginger ale. He just hoped the combination would be enough to make him feel like he wasn’t suffering as badly as this continued, likely for the whole week.
He managed to stay up through the entire Centaurs game and the Voyageurs game, flip flopping between coverage when he could, no matter how droopy his eyes were from the drowsy side effects of the medication he was on. He also got minorly jumpscared by the PSA from the Public Health Agency of Canada that he, Ilya, and other notable Canadian stars did because of course he couldn’t just suffer in peace, there had to be irony found within.
He rolled his eyes as he watched himself say his lines of “because protecting yourself and your family-,” while Ilya finished with a “is something we can all agree on.” and then “so play defense against the flu and get your shot.”
“I thought we were centers, no?” He repeated Ilya’s second line, trying to keep himself from laughing at the cheesy delivery or else he would start coughing again. He started coughing again anyways, so he just grabbed his water and took a sip in a futile attempt to calm it down.
Anaheim had beaten the Voyageurs, but only in overtime off a screen. Shane hoped the team could rally back tomorrow against the Admirals, back to backs were hard enough as it was, nevermind missing a player of Shane’s caliber and facing a tougher opponent on the second half.
On the flip side, it was a true 6-0 ass-whooping in favor of the Centaurs, Ilya got a hat trick—his second of the season—as well as two assists and he winked at the camera in his postgame interview on the bench, something Shane knew was meant to be for him.
He drifted off during the postgame coverage, glasses still perched on his face, before the feed had the chance to switch to the Los Angeles vs Calgary game, finding comfort in the warm bed and the pillows and the sound of the commentators praising Ilya’s performance.
He did, however, wake up again at around 1 AM to the sound of someone coming up the stairs. Shane had always been a light sleeper, medication be damned, and suddenly he felt his heart racing in his chest as he heard the steps coming right to the door of the master bedroom. He wasn’t sure if he had time to try and get up or if he could even get up, frankly, with how achy he was. The doorknob turned and he saw-
“Ilya…”
His boyfriend. His boyfriend had made the 2 hour drive in the middle of the night in early February to come see him when he’s sick. Given the time, he probably drove straight from the rink. The Centaurs hoodie he was in only furthered that idea.
“Lyubov,” he walked over to the bed, smiling softly and running his hand gently through Shane’s hair, stopping to feel his forehead, “Jesus. You were not kidding, that is a warm fever.”
Shane nodded softly, “yeah… doc says I’m out for a week on bed rest.” He coughed, tucking his face into his elbow, “why did you—”
“You really think I am not going to come spend my off day with the love of my life when he is dying in bed?”
That’s right, Ilya’s off day before the team went on their yearly west coast roadtrip. It was the main reason Shane was trying to postpone getting sick, he wanted to spend that day with Ilya even if he was supposed to have a game against the Admirals that night.
“Sorry I’m a little gross right now,” Shane hummed, leaning into Ilya’s touch as the Russian played with his hair, “I’m happy you’re here. You played really fucking good, holy shit. God I’m so mad I can’t celebrate that with you tonight.”
“You will make it up to me,” he smirked, making Shane’s stomach do happy flips. He said it lightheartedly, likely trying to make him smile a little, and Shane still knew he was right. When Shane got better and had his off day in two weeks, he had a plan to drive up to Ottawa and spend that entire time rewarding that hat trick and getting nailed by his sexy, perfect, considerate boyfriend.
“Mmm, yeah.” He croaked out, “I will.”
Ilya huffed a small laugh and Shane saw the gentle if not concerned smile at the corner of his lips. His eyes were so fond as he leaned in carefully and placed a quick kiss to Shane’s forehead, “go back to sleep. I am going to sleep in guest room.”
“You didn’t have to drive all this way to see me.”
“Yes I did and I wanted to.” Ilya hummed softly, taking Shane’s glasses off for him and folding them up carefully, placing them gently on the nightstand for him. “Sleep, luchik. I will see you in the morning. I love you.”
“I love you.”
Ilya left quietly, closing the door on the way out as he made his way down the hall to one of the guest rooms and Shane curled up back into the blankets, turning off the TV and the postgame coverage from Los Angeles.
He woke up to a knock on his door, groaning softly as he adjusted himself in bed, covering himself over more with the blankets to fight the chills, “mmm…”
“Luchik?”
Shane reached for his glasses on the nightstand and leaned up against the pile of pillows behind him on the bed, guiding them onto his face, “yeah baby?”
God his voice sounded awful.
“Coming in.”
The doorknob turned again and in walked his boyfriend, now in a pair of workout pants, his Centaurs hoodie, and his slippers, with a mug of something and a bowl of something on one of the little wooden IKEA serving trays Shane had. They were good for when he had company like Hayden or J.J. or any of their other teammates over so he always had some in his cupboard.
“Made you something,” he hummed, “kasha and then tea, made it Russian way so that makes it best. Good for stomach, good for body.”
He hummed softly as Ilya placed the tray in his lap, “And by the Russian way, you mean…?”
“Jam instead of sugar,” he smiled softly. “My grandmother used to do that. I took it up after her. Just black tea and I use apple jam, but currant jam or cherry jam are good too.”
Shane unsuccessfully tried to smell the tea in the mug, thanks to the stuffed airways, opting to take a sip and, even with the muted flavors thanks to the sickness, he still knows it’s good from what he can taste. Sweet and fruity and aromatic, the tea playing well with the jam.
“I like it,” he smiled at his boyfriend, “thank you… I don’t have apple jam though, where did-,”
“I know,” Ilya hummed, sitting on the edge of the bed by Shane’s feet. “Ran by my house quick before driving over. Brought it with me and some other things.”
“You brought apple jam all the way from Ottawa so you could make me Russian tea?”
“It is what you do when you are in love and trying to stop your boyfriend being miserable.” He smiled, placing a hand on his heart. “I am best boyfriend in the world, I know.”
Shane was going to ruin this man when he was better, so help him God.
“I won’t argue that, but I will one up you on it.” Shane placed the mug back on the tray and looked in the bowl. “Oatmeal?”
“Kasha,” Ilya fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. “Buckwheat kasha, but can use oats or rice or something too. My mother used to make it when I was sick as child. Brought that from home also. Easy on the stomach, fills you up… added butter, little salt, and honey to make it taste good though, but not enough that it would make your stomach hurt.”
Shane’s heart was skipping happily in his chest. “You’re too sweet to me.”
“I know,” he got up from the bed, “but if I am sweet, you can be candy some days, Hollander. Eat, don’t let it get cold. I am going to make myself some and clean up, then I’ll check on you again, okay? Don’t you dare come downstairs, I will come to you. Bed rest, okay?”
Shane nodded, picking up the spoon, “okay. Thank you, baby. I love you.”
Ilya smiled at him, “I love you too.”
Ilya’s smile whenever Shane called him something like “baby” made Shane want to kiss him stupid, but considering he didn’t want to get Ilya sick next, he settled for eating breakfast. He actually liked the kasha and, for the first time in about 36 hours, his stomach wasn’t disagreeing with something. Considering it didn’t even want the other half of the bagel yesterday, that was progress. Maybe his stomach understood it was Ilya cooking for him and let this slide.
He finished the mug of tea and the kasha, putting the tray to the side again as he curled up in the blankets. He took the medications the doctor prescribed with a sip of water and hummed softly.
About 20 minutes after, Ilya came up and took the tray and the mug. “How do you feel?”
“Alright, so far.” Shane sniffled, grabbing a tissue. “What are you planning on doing today?”
Ilya shrugged. “Taking care of you.”
“I’m a grown man, hone—” Shane paused to cough again into his elbow as a quick fit overtook him, blowing his nose into the tissue and sneezing again after because the coughing stuffed him up again. “Ugh… I can take care of myself, but thank you.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Ilya rubbed his back. “You need to rest. Just trust me. I like doing this.”
Shane sighed, “I feel bad.”
“Don’t.” Ilya insisted. “I promise. You would do the same for me, yes?”
“Of course I would,” Shane nodded, clearing his throat. “A thousand times over.”
“Then let me do it for you, even just once.” Ilya smiled and left the room, leaving Shane on his own in his room again. He turned on the TV and put on a video essay about the Halifax Explosion to keep himself occupied, sipping on some more Gatorade for electrolytes as he leaned back on the pile of pillows.
He doesn’t quite know when he drifted off, but when he woke up, he drank some water, shuffled to the bathroom, washed his hands when he was done, and wrapped himself in a quilt before quietly heading downstairs to find Ilya. Upon hearing some music coming from the kitchen, he staggered over towards the music and poked his head in to find his boyfriend there with one of Shane’s aprons on over his hoodie, cutting carrots, with a large pot on the stove steaming with something as his phone played some Russian pop song. Shane couldn’t smell much, but he still tried. However, the sniffling with a stuffy nose alerted Ilya, who looked over to Shane in the doorway with a furrowed brow.
“Hey, hey, what are you doing out of bed? Doctor said bed rest, this is not bed rest.”
“What are you making?” Shane yawned.
“Chicken soup,” Ilya put the chef’s knife down and walked over, “sladkiy, go back to bed, please. If not for your sake, then for mine.”
“Soup?” Shane looked on the counter at the usual ingredients; onion, celery, carrots, garlic, a pack of egg noodles, some herbs, a couple bottles of some kind of seasonings, a couple cartons of chicken broth, and a familiar tub of beige paste.
“Why do you have miso?”
Ilya looked at the tub on the counter, “I asked your mother for her recipe. She says she uses this along with all the usual stuff. Vegetables, chicken, broth, all that. Says it makes it taste better, plus it’s good for you. At least that is what she said.”
Shane looks at him again, borderline stunned. “My mother gave you her chicken noodle soup recipe?”
Ilya nodded, “I just asked, let her know you were sick, she sent me the ingredients list and steps. I ordered the groceries while you ate breakfast.”
“My mom doesn’t share those with anyone. She barely shared those with me! Dad is just as guilty.” Shane wrapped the quilt tighter around himself as he felt a chill. “She really has come around to you.”
“Yes. I am her favorite now. She tell me everything. She tell me family recipes, you scared of Mickey Mouse as baby, your birthmarks—okay, those I find on my own.” Ilya smiled smugly, kissing his forehead again. “Go, I mean it. Go rest. I love you.”
“I love you.” Shane finally retreated from the kitchen, shuffling back up to his room and to bed where he snuggled back under the covers, turning on the Vancouver vs Dallas game to give himself something less monotonous than a documentary.
Two teams that just had huge returns to the lineup, should be a good match, he thought to himself. He sipped more water as he waited for puck drop.
Ilya came up some time during the third to check on him and bring him a bowl of soup. He also brought himself one, also on a tray, and sat on the other side of Shane, watching the game with him on the bed as they ate.
“How you like it?” He asked, taking a bite.
“It’s amazing,” Shane smiled. “You nailed her recipe, if you want to pat yourself on the back for that.”
Ilya nodded, smiling as he swallowed his bite, “I will. And perhaps I will make some for myself at home when the trip is done.”
Shane nodded and swallowed another bite, watching as Dallas’s goaltender made a quick save on Vancouver’s Freddie Jacobs. “Oof, good save.”
Ilya hummed in agreement, taking another bite of soup, bringing the bowl to his lips to sip some broth. “Impressive season they’ve had so far. Thought without their captain and Ellis in the lineup with injuries they would be doing worse, but they are doing well. Dallas are still good though.”
“Hard not to be with Phillips between the pipes,” Shane sniffled. “Vancouver is playing with a vengeance, though. Novak is a huge help, Jesus he’s the size of a fridge with hands like butter.”
Ilya nodded and ate with him, the two making more conversation as they ate and watched the game go into overtime, the aforementioned Novak eventually scoring the game winner for Vancouver off a rebound that Phillips had rushed to try and catch, slipping just shy of the glove.
Ilya took the bowls once they finished dinner, returning a short while later and sitting back on the bed with Shane. Shane leaned over and put his head in Ilya’s lap.
“Hey,” he rasped.
“Hey,” Ilya hummed, reaching down and placing his hand in Shane’s hair, playing carefully with the silky strands. Shane leaned into his touch and laughed softly as his thumb came down, gently running it over his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose where his freckles lay. He never knew how crazy those freckles made Ilya for so long, but he should have suspected it.
“So beautiful,” Ilya whispered, “even hacking up your lungs with a fever, you’re so beautiful. The most beautiful person on the planet, I swear.”
“Thank you, baby.” Shane smiled, “in fairness, I think you’re the most handsome person in the entire world. Haven’t been disproven.”
“Well thank you, luchik. I know it.” He couldn’t see Ilya’s face, but he could tell he was grinning from ear to ear at the praise, gently twirling his fingers in Shane’s hair. Shane loved the feeling so much, loved how careful he was when he wanted to be. Loved how soft his touches were and how the feeling of Ilya’s hands in his hair made his body just relax, letting go of the tension as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
“When are you going?” Shane wondered aloud, “when is your flight tomorrow?”
“3,” Ilya hummed, “have to be at airport by 1, so I have to leave here early to get back.”
“You’re staying the night again?”
“Of course I am,” Ilya twirled a lock around his pointer finger, “why would I not?”
“I just… I feel bad you’re stuck taking care of me.”
“Shane,” Ilya looked down at him and tilted Shane’s chin so they made eye contact, “it is not being stuck. I like doing this for you. It is important to me. You are important to me. You understand this? I do it out of love.”
Shane stared into his eyes, that gorgeous hazel that always left him mystified, “I know. I know you mean it and I know you love me. I love you.”
“Always. I love you.” Ilya smiled, “you would do it for me, yes?”
“In a heartbeat.” Shane tilted his head down and kissed Ilya’s hand where it was still holding his head. “If you get sick, I will do my best to drive in and take care of you. You matter to me, you are important to me, and I love you.”
“I love you too.” Ilya leaned down and kissed Shane’s head again, letting his lips linger for a second before sitting back up, turning his focus back to the TV and the new coverage of the Voyageurs vs Admirals game that was about to start.
Shane stayed like that for a while, finding comfort in his boyfriend’s touch and the warmth of his body, eventually finding himself teetering on the edge of sleep like that after watching the Voyageurs win in the shootout, the puck slipping just past Bennett off of Hayden’s stick.
“Goddammit, he’s going to be so smug about that.” Ilya groaned, “as if he was not already insufferable. How rude to do that in Bennett’s last season. Bullying an old man.”
“Mmm yeah he will certainly be a little cocky.” Shane yawned, “gonna be so proud of that. Bennett did good though, not his fault his D messed up and went for a change just as we got the puck earlier for the tie.”
Ilya reached for the remote and turned the TV off, “you need to sleep, lyubov. Sleep makes this go faster.”
Shane yawned again, covering his mouth to cough after, “but I want to stay up with you.”
He knew he sounded like a petulant kid trying to stay up late and watch another episode of TV, fighting the inevitability of sleep. He didn’t want to wake up to an empty bed, nor did he want to wake up to Ilya leaving again. As if fighting sleep would make it so Ilya didn’t have to leave, like he would stay there forever as long as Shane didn’t go to bed.
Ilya pet his hair again and moved his head from his lap, causing Shane to sit up and take his glasses off to put on the nightstand. Ilya laid down on the bed and pulled the comforter up over himself and eventually reached over to Shane, lovingly manhandling the hockey player so he was lying next to him, all wrapped up in his blankets.
“I need to sleep and so do you. I promise it will help and I will wake you up before I go. I will not leave without saying goodbye.”
“What if you get sick?” Shane sniffled.
“Then that just means you have to make the drive for me.” Ilya smiled at him before reaching over and turning off the lamp, “I love you. Get some sleep.”
“I love you.”
Shane fell asleep like that, Ilya’s arm around him as they lay in the warm bed.
He woke up to that as well, bundled up in the blankets in his bed and opened his eyes to find Ilya smiling softly at him, his eyes soft as his hand gently cupped the left side of Shane’s face, thumb running gently along his cheekbone as it was last night.
Shane smiled softly, “good morning.” His throat was still raspy and sore and he still ached, but his heart was full.
“Good morning,” Ilya stared gently at him, “so beautiful.”
Shane turned his head a little and leaned into his touch, “you always say that. God you’re so handsome, I think about it all the time. How I got lucky falling in love with you, how the hottest guy I’ve ever seen fell in love with me right back.”
Ilya’s face split open in a grin, “I think the same all the time.”
Shane pressed his lips to Ilya’s hand and Ilya pulled back, “I should get ready. I have to uh…”
“Right, right,” Shane sat up, “you have that flight and you gotta be at the airport and all… it’s a long drive.”
“Yes,” Ilya nodded, getting up from Shane’s bed, “how you feeling?”
“A little better,” Shane tried to stifle the ache in his heart. "Do you have to go?”
“I wish I could stay,” he smiled, leaning over the bed, a playful smirk on his lips as he thought about his next words, “could play Doctor until you felt better.”
Shane laughed and coughed, turning his head and covering his mouth, “Jesus the way you made it sound was so dirty.”
“I would behave until you were well, I promise.” He kissed Shane’s cheek and Shane chased after his mouth as he pulled away with his own.
“Hey, no.” Ilya chided, “you are sick.”
“We slept together in the same bed and you’ve been kissing and touching me everywhere else on my face for the past 30 hours. I think if you’re trying to avoid getting sick, it’s too late at this point.”
He chuckled, “perhaps you have a point.” He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to Shane’s. It was tender, sweet, and chaste considering the two of them. Shane loves all of Ilya’s kisses, chaste or biting.
He pulled away after a moment, “there. I am going to go get my things then I should go. I will leave the jam and the kasha with you, I have more.”
“Thank you.” Shane smiled, “I love you. Thank you so much for coming down. I love having you here and you were too sweet to come take care of me like this.”
“It is what love does, yes?” Ilya stood up, “I love you.”
“I love you. Drive safe and have a safe flight later, no speeding until you get in the city, sometimes I don’t trust the plows to salt enough outside the main roads.”
Ilya kissed his head one last time before leaving the room and Shane heard the front door downstairs about five minutes later. He grabbed his phone and shot a quick text for Ilya when he was out of the car.
Shane: let me know when you get home and when you take off, I love you ❤️
Ilya does very well on the roadtrip, for what it’s worth, which is very entertaining to watch as Shane gets better and then when he rejoined the lineup.
But it comes as no surprise to Shane when he wakes up on Thursday, the day after Ilya gets home, to a text with a picture of a thermometer that reads at 39.3 C°.
Lily: I have you to blame for this .
Shane: you have only yourself to blame.
Lily: is your germs
Shane: My next off day is Sunday
Lily: going to make me wait 2 days ?
Shane: I wish I could come sooner. I’ll see you, I love you
Lily: I love you too
Lily: even if you got me sick
Shane smiled and shook his head, chuckling softly to himself as he started making a list on his phone and texted Hayden that he was skipping town after the afternoon game on Saturday.