“Are you hungry?” Shane asked.
“Yes.”
“I have a premade lasagna. I just have to bake it.”
Ilya’s face lit up with interest. Then, just as quickly, his face fell. “What are the noodles?”
“Zucchini.”
“No!”
“It’s good, I swear. You won’t even notice the difference,” Shane lied. He turned on the oven, and decided not to tell Ilya what the stand-in for the cheese was.
Ilya grunted as he sat on Shane’s sofa, and Shane glanced over with concern. “How’s your knee?”
“It fell off,” Ilya said dryly, clearly done with Shane asking the same question over and over.
“Let me look at it.”
“You saw it this morning.” Ilya had his sore leg stretched out on the sofa. “Is still just bruised.”
Shane was already at his side. He tried to slide Ilya’s pants leg up, but the tapered cut of the fancy jogging pants made it impossible. “Pull your pants down.”
“You are terrible at foreplay,” Ilya said, but he lifted his hips and slid his waistband down to his shins. The outer part of Ilya’s left knee was entirely dark purple and swollen.
“Jesus,” Shane said. He brushed his fingers over the bruise. “Maybe you should have seen a doctor today.”
“I saw the team doctor last night. Is bruised. Have you not ever had a bruise?”
“I’m getting you some ice.”
Ilya made a vague grunting noise that Shane translated as Ice would feel amazing but I am absolutely not going to admit that.
Shane left and returned with an ice pack, some ibuprofen, and a glass of water. He carefully placed the ice on Ilya’s knee while Ilya took the pills.
“Thank you, moy gazonokosilka.”
This was a game Ilya liked to play where he used random Russian words as pet names, to test Shane. Shane thought hard for a moment, trying to guess the word’s meaning, but ultimately surrendered. “No idea what that one means.”
“Is, um…for cutting the grass.”
“Lawnmower?”
“Yes.”
“Weird.”
Shane felt something digging into his hip when he bent to kiss Ilya quickly, then remembered the plastic heart rings that the kids had insisted he and Ilya keep. He took them out of his pocket and placed them on the coffee table, and was about to return to the kitchen when Ilya said, quietly, “The kids didn’t care.”
“About what?”
“About us. They knew, and they did not care.”
“Yeah. That was a surprise.” Shane had no idea how Ruby and Jade had been so certain that Ilya and Shane were a couple—he was sure their parents hadn’t told them, it would be risky giving young children that information—but they’d known and accepted it and had insisted on making honest men of them both.
“Maybe more people would not care,” Ilya said. “If they knew.”
“I think most people would care way too fucking much,” Shane said dismissively.
Ilya’s expression shuttered, then he began to aggressively adjust his ice pack. Shane felt like he’d said something wrong, but what else could he have said? He didn’t honestly believe that many people would accept them as a couple. They could only stick to the plan, which was continuing on in secret until they were both retired. Or at least until one of them was, but Shane hoped they would retire together. The idea of playing in a league without Ilya seemed strange and hollow.
Shane put a tentative hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Ilya crossed his arms over his chest and mumbled something in Russian.
“Huh?”
“I think you care too fucking much.”
“About what? Us?”
“No. About everyone else. Opinions.”
“Aren’t we both concerned about that?”
Ilya didn’t answer, and Shane felt like he was missing something important. “We can talk about it if you—”
“No,” Ilya grumbled. “Is nothing.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t the first time Ilya had seemed randomly upset about something he refused to talk about. Shane worried, sometimes, that there were a lot of things Ilya wasn’t telling him.
Ilya sighed. “Sorry. I am tired. Forget what I am saying.”
Shane brushed a thumb across Ilya’s cheek. “I love you.”
Ilya’s lips quirked up. “Good. Because we are married now.”
Still not sure what any of this was about, Shane picked up the remote from the coffee table and handed it to Ilya. “We can eat on the sofa. Find a movie or something.”
He got to work making a salad to a soundtrack of heroic music and loud explosions coming from the living room. Ilya loved action movies. The lasagna still needed to bake for a while after Shane finished the salad, so he joined his boyfriend on the couch, letting Ilya rest his feet in his lap.
“What movie is it?”
“I don’t know. But Rose is in it.”
Shane squinted at the TV and wished he had his glasses. “Oh yeah. I’ve seen this one. It’s kind of bad.”
“Rose looks beautiful, though.”
“She always does.” They watched in silence while Shane absently rubbed Ilya’s feet.
“You could have had it all,” Ilya teased when Rose was on the screen in a particularly sexy evening gown.
Shane snuggled closer against him. He’d had a question on his mind since they’d woken from their nap. He didn’t want to ruin this cozy moment, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Ilya?”
Ilya must have heard the caution in Shane’s voice, because his body tensed. “Yes?”
“Are you…okay?”
“Fine. Is just a bruise.”
“No, I mean…” Shane gnawed on his bottom lip, unsure of how to proceed.
“Shane?”
He decided to just go for it. “I feel like, maybe, you’re not okay. Sometimes.”
Ilya removed his arm and turned toward him. “Not okay how?”
Shane sat up and faced him. “You’ve been through a lot, and I know our…thing…isn’t easy. And I’m just wondering if you maybe need to deal with some of that.” He steeled himself. “Professionally, I mean.”
Ilya narrowed his eyes. “Why are you saying this?”
Shane put a hand on his arm, and Ilya flinched under his touch. Shit, Shane was fucking this up. He tried again. “I’d never thought much about, y’know, mental health stuff, before we started the charity. But sometimes you seem…sad. Or, I dunno, withdrawn.”
“Withwhat?”
“Withdrawn, like, um, quiet.”
“Everyone is quiet sometimes.” Ilya turned back to the TV. “You should try it.”
Shane huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. We don’t have to talk about it. Just know that if you want to talk, or want to maybe see someone about it, I’ll support you. And if you don’t want to, I’ll support that too. But I’m worried sometimes.”
For a long time, Ilya didn’t say anything. Shane watched the hinge of his jaw twitch. His lips were a hard line.
“You should not worry,” Ilya finally said, his gaze staying on the television. “I am okay.”