Chapter Text
They're enjoying a lazy summer afternoon at the cottage when Shane's phone starts to ring.
"You put him on right now, Shane Hollander," Hayden says the second Shane answers.
Given the outrage in Hayden's voice, there can be very little doubt as to who "he" is. The only question, really, is just what prank Ilya's pulled off this time in whatever crazy war he and Hayden have going on. Well, that and—
"Why are you calling me?" Shane asks. "Don't you have his number? I know I gave it to you for emergencies."
"Yeah, well, guess who's hiding from the infamous Pike wrath? Tell him to answer his damn phone!"
Shane pulls his cell away from his ear, looks at it for a moment like it might bite him, or maybe explode at any second, and then holds it out. "Uh—" he tells Ilya. "It's for you."
There's a smirk forming on Ilya's face as he accepts the phone and puts it on speaker. "My least favourite Pike," he says by way of greeting.
"I want them gone," Hayden says. He's seething; Shane can hear it in every word.
"But they are gifts," Ilya says innocently, his eyes wide and surprised—why, Shane doesn't know. It's not like Hayden can see him. Apparently he's become a method actor. "I have given them from the depths of my heart. Very rude to reject. Are Canadians allowed to do that?"
He turns to Shane, as if expecting an answer, and Shane holds up his hands to say leave me out of this.
"My children are not wearing Rozanov jerseys," Hayden hisses. "Wait, are you laughing, Hollander?"
Shane slaps one hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds, even though it's already too late.
"You can just send them back to us," he finally offers once he's got the laughter under control, as a kind of apology, though it makes Ilya clutch one hand to his heart and make sad, betrayed eyes at him.
"It's too late for that," Hayden mutters. "The kids already saw them."
Shane winces, but Ilya just looks delighted. "What did they say, Pike?"
There's dead silence over the speaker for a moment, except for a clamour of voices Shane can hear in the background. He's pretty sure he catches an Uncle Ilya! in there somewhere.
"What was that?" Ilya asks sweetly.
"They—they won't take them off," Hayden finally mutters. "You have to do something, Rozanov. Tell them it was a mistake, or that you meant to give them something else."
"You would have me break their hearts?" Ilya gasps in faux astonishment. "You would have me lie? What kind of example are giving your children?"
Shane can practically see Hayden grinding his teeth. "I'm going to get you, Rozanov," Hayden swears. "Just you wait. You'll be begging for a truce when I'm done."
"You're welcome," Ilya says cheerfully, ignoring the threat, but Hayden's already hung up. Shaking his head in mock regret, Ilya hands Shane's phone back to him.
"Just wait until he sees the cardboard cutouts," Ilya says. "They will be delivered tomorrow."