Chapter Text
In the three years he’s worked at Afterglow, Shane had learned two things; one, the coffee always tasted faintly like burnt regret, and two, no one in his office knew how to mind their own business.
He typed quietly at his desk, pretending not to hear the familiar voices float over the wall.
“So, Shane,” Scott from the creative team called, voice dripping with curiosity. “You never bring your wife to the company events. When will we get to meet her?”
Shane didn’t look up, he just stared at his screen as the voice got closer and flatly said, “Never,” hoping that would be the end of it.
“C’mon, man. You’ve got to bring her along on the Tahoe trip. I promise we’ll be nice.”
“Seriously, Scott?” Shane finally looked up from his computer, glaring into the soft blue eyes hovering over him. “Why are you, of all people, pushing me? You never bring anyone either.”
“I’m bringing someone to the lodge.”
“Are you?”
“Mhmm. And I really want to meet your lady. So please bring her?”
Shane took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He tucked his lips between his teeth and considered telling him, but did he really want the entire office to know? Word traveled like wildfire at Afterglow. Everybody was likely already listening in on their conversation, he knew they wouldn’t have to try very hard to hear every word they were saying, because he had to put on headphones to drown out the voices in the office some days.
With a steadying breath, Shane decided to finally come clean. After three years of people assuming he was married, three years of showing up at events alone, three years of saying “nope, just me tonight” when they’d ask if his wife was coming, he was finally going to tell them the truth.
“Scott.” Shane fidgeted with his computer mouse, spinning the little wheel and sending his document flying up the screen just for something to do with his hands. “I’m not married,” he finally said. “I’m not even interested in women.”
“What?” Scott looked genuinely confused, his head tilted and eyebrows scrunching. “Then who’s that?” he asked, nodding his head toward the framed photo on Shane's desk.
Following his gesture, Shane studied the contents of his desk, almost like he forgot what was on it, as if he didn’t put it all there himself. His eyes landed on the photo in question and a chuckle fell out of him uncontrollably. “Her?” Scott nodded. “Dude, that’s my sister!”
Looking around, Shane saw his colleagues trying very hard to look like they weren’t eavesdropping, but the way their hands had stilled over their keyboards, the chatter between Maria and Elena dying down, and the way he could hear Scott breathing next to him proved that they weren’t doing a very good job of it.
He watched Scott’s chest deflate as he huffed out a laugh. “Oh,” was all he said.
“Yeah.”
So that was it. The truth was finally out. Shane could stop being caught in the middle of a lie. A lie he didn’t even start, but didn’t know how to end. A sense of relief washed over him as the realization set in. Shane could live his single life and not have to pretend someone was waiting for him at home. There’d be no more making excuses for a wife who didn’t even exist. He was finally free.
“So, you’ll bring your boyfriend then?”
“What?”
Following Scott’s eyes, Shane's breath hitched when they landed on a photo of him and his childhood best friend, and he once again didn’t know what to do. He’d just come out to his favorite work friend (and probably all of the others, if he’s honest), and he felt free for all of two seconds before being badgered again about bringing someone on the snow trip. He felt trapped.
Sure, he could have explained. Could have said he and Ilya had been best friends since they played on the little league team together as kids, that Ilya had dragged him into that photo after three beers and his go-to karaoke song. Instead, his stomach twisted. His mouth opened to correct Scott, to tell him that Ilya wasn’t his boyfriend, just as he’d done with the photo of his sister, Maggie. It would be painless. Then he imagined the endless follow-up questions, the awkward pity smile, the “oh, I have a gay friend,” blind dates he’d be propositioned for. He closed his mouth again.
“Yeah,” he heard himself say. “He’ll be there.”
***
By the time Shane shut down his computer that evening, the pit in his stomach had gone from mild anxiety to full-blown dread. He sat in his car, hands on the steering wheel, staring at his phone like it might explode if he touched it.
Ilya was going to murder him.
He should have just corrected Scott. Should have said, “No, that’s my best friend, we grew up together.” Simple. But instead he’d agreed to bring his nonexistent boyfriend on the trip like an idiot.
How was he going to talk Ilya into this? There was no way his best friend would agree to be his boyfriend for a work event. A free snow trip might convince him to play along, but Shane didn’t think that would be enough.
Cursing under his breath, Shane drove home, rehearsing what he’d say and trying to predict how Ilya would respond. None of the made-up conversations ended in his favor.
Shane was screwed.
“Hey stranger!” Ilya picked up on the second ring. “You never call, is everything okay? Is the world ending?”
“In a way.”
Ilya laughed, “Oh no, you finally snapped and quit your job?”
“What? No. I love it there. But look, I…” Shane sighed. He didn’t want to do this over the phone. He owed it to Ilya to explain it all in person, that way Ilya could murder him on the spot instead of having to wait to do it. “Are you busy? Can I come by?”
He heard Ilya hum through the phone before saying, “Ooh, no can do. I have someone over, but tomorrow?”
“I can’t tomorrow, Wednesday?”
“Wednesday it is. See you then.”
“See ya.”
***
“You what?” Ilya’s eyes went wide and his mouth hung open.
Shane looked down at the floor, drawing lines on the carpet with his sock for something to distract him from the conversation. “It wasn’t on purpose!”
There was a pause and Ilya stared at him for a long time. Finally, his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile and his nostrils flared. “How does one accidentally tell their colleagues that they have a boyfriend? Please tell me you’re joking.”
Shane dragged a hand down his face and shook his head slowly, exhaling through his nose. “Unfortunately, I’m not. It’s true.”
Shane knew Ilya was going to give him shit over this. He practically saw the whole scene play out in his head before he even got to Ilya’s.
“And I didn’t tell them, they just assumed.” Shane did his best to keep his tone neutral and face free of any expression. He waited for Ilya’s eyebrows to scrunch in the way he knew they did before Ilya started to complain about something. Waited for his mouth to open just a bit, but before any words came out, Shane was quick to add, “They think you’re my boyfriend and they really want to meet you.”
“Me?” There was a moment of silence as Ilya’s mouth snapped shut and Shane waited for him to process what he was thinking. “And why would they think that, Shane?” Ilya’s question came out through a smirk and he crossed his arms in an amused way that said you’re such a disaster.
“I don’t know,” Shane responded, running his hands through his hair and taking a step around the coffee table so he’d have room to pace out of awkwardness. “Because it was better than the alternative, I guess.”
Ilya’s eyes followed him around the room and then his face morphed to something more concerned. “What alternative? Shane, what are you talking about? What happened?”
Shane dropped down onto Ilya’s old plaid couch, twisting the pilled fibers between his fingers as he started talking, hoping that Ilya would understand and agree to come on this trip with him. To be his boyfriend for the weekend.
“They thought Maggie was my wife, because I have a picture from her birthday on my desk.” Shane shrugged and shook his head like he was trying to shake off the thought of his sister being his wife. “They all just assumed.”
Ilya snorted. “They thought you were married to your sister?”
“Apparently!” Shane threw his hands up and finally cracked a smile for the first time since he got to Ilya’s. “I was confused too. Didn’t know where they came up with that until Scott told me the other day.”
When Scott had pointed at the picture of Shane with his arm around Maggie and the realization hit, his face made the exact same expression Ilya was making at that moment.
Shane huffed, shifting his weight to one foot. “So anyway, I told him that I wasn’t married. Thought that would clear things up. And I even came out to him, thinking that if he knew I was gay, maybe everyone would stop asking me to invite my wife to our company events.” He paused to take a breath, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the whole thing.
Ilya’s face had softened a bit and he leaned forward, narrowing his eyes playfully. “Mm, yes. The logical next step. ‘I’m not married. Also, fun fact, I’m gay.’ How could this possibly go wrong?”
Shane shot him a flat look. “You done?”
“Not even close,” Ilya said through a smile. “But go on.”
“Well.” Shane sighed. “Then he saw a photo of you…”
Ilya’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You have pictures of me on your desk at work?”
“I have pictures of a lot of people on my desk.” Shane's response was quick. Defensive. He waved a hand as if that would make it matter any less.
Ilya crossed his arms, popping a hip and glaring at him. He licked his lips. “Who?”
Shane blinked, tilting his head. “What?”
“Who else do you have pictures of?”
“Um.” Shane scratched the back of his neck. “My parents, Maggie, my nieces, and that picture of us at the A’s game last year.”
Ilya stared at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s it? Your family and then…me?”
He looked down again, toes digging into the carpet like he could hide in it. He wasn’t sure if he should say more. And maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to understand how Scott had jumped to conclusions. Because now that he was saying it out loud, it kinda made sense.
“And one of us in St. Thomas,” he mumbled, not looking up from the floor. “From when we swam with the dolphins.”
“Shane.” Ilya huffed out a dramatic laugh, dragging out his name.
“I know.” Shane groaned, dragging hands over his face. “I see it now.”
He peeked at Ilya through the gap between his fingers, giving him a sheepish, painfully hopeful look. He tried an innocent laugh – soft, embarrassed, a peace offering of sorts. He flashed the guilty smile he always used when he asked Ilya for a favor. “So…what do you say?”
Ilya didn’t even blink. Didn’t hesitate. Hardly even let Shane finish his question. “Absolutely not.”
Shane dropped his hands. “Ilya, come on!” He gestured wildly, like he could physically shove the idea into place.
“What is the trip even for?”
“It’s the Afterglow end of year trip. We meet up with the Afterglow employees from different regional offices every year for a few days and it’s usually pretty fun. I’m speaking this year at the conference, and the next day there’s usually an awards ceremony. The rest of the time, though, we’re free to do whatever.”
That may have done it. He could see Ilya considering it now, and since Ilya didn’t have a snarky response for him, he continued.
“You love the snow. And you wouldn’t have to go to the conference or anything. You just need to show up and pretend to like me, call me ‘babe’ for the weekend, and then you can fuck off. I’ll even let you break up with me in front of everyone if you hate it.”
Ilya stared at him, tapping his chin like he was considering saying something witty. His shoulders dropped and then he sighed. “…Will you pay for all of my drinks?”
“Of course.”
“And food?”
Shane flung his hand out, rolling his eyes. “Obviously.”
For a long beat, Ilya held his gaze, saying nothing just to torture him. Then he nodded once. “Fine.”
***
The lab was always quiet in the late afternoon, all soft light and cluttered surfaces, evidence of a hard day’s work. Shane stood at the workbench with his sleeves pushed up, a row of small glass vials scattered in front of him. They’d started out in an orderly row, but as the hours ticked by, he’d made a mess of them. He moved around the workshop without really thinking, guided more by instinct than any of the written base formulas the others worked from.
He let himself mix slowly and without a plan. Several drops from the first bottle, a few less of the next one, and just one single drop from the third. After swirling the mixture over the burner, he dipped a test strip and set it aside with the others while he made some notes, allowing it time to dry. There was a whole collection of samples in a jagged row across his workspace by the time the shop lights dimmed, signaling that it was six o’clock. He should have left an hour ago, but he wanted to finish his final blend of the year before closing up.
Picking up sample A, he waved the test strip in front of his face, inhaling. Something was off, not quite how he’d imagined it in his head. He made a note and set it back down. Sample B was pleasant. Fresh, airy, something rich and deep hidden under a hint of eucalyptus. That one made it to the ‘maybe’ pile.
Nothing had names yet at this stage. This part was just about working with the way certain notes softened others, the way sharpness could give way to warmth if he mixed it just right. The blend he was working on was meant to close out the year. Not in a neat, celebratory way, but just something to round it up. To punctuate it. He wanted something comforting without being too sweet, familiar without being obvious. It wasn’t easy for him to describe the feeling he was trying to recreate with words, but when he smelled it, he’d know.
“Hey Shane.”
His head snapped up and he turned toward the door with sample C pinched between his fingers. “Oh hey, I’m almost done here. Just need to settle on one and then I’ll close up.”
“You’re fine.” Elena waved him off and stepped into his space, helping herself to some of his samples. “I was just going to ask if the supply guy came by last night. My test strips weren’t refilled.”
“Oh.” He tried to remember how many were left in his drawer when he’d grabbed out a stack earlier. “I’m not sure actually, but I have plenty. You can grab some of mine if you run out.”
She set down sample B and skipped to sample D since Shane was still holding onto C. He watched her head tilt and then she sniffed it again, nodding as she placed it back into the row. “That one’s nice. It’s kinda giving, like, am I in a garden or at the beach? There’s a lot of floral notes but they’re muted by sea salt and… maybe coconut? Or something.”
Smiling, Shane raised his eyebrows and pointed at her, wagging his finger in a way that told her she was good. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”
“Nice!” The look on Elena’s face said that she’d even surprised herself with how accurate that guess was. She patted Shane on the shoulder and took a step toward the door. “Well, I’m gonna get outta here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night.”
After finally having a chance to smell C, he didn’t hate it, but he didn’t love it either. It was just okay. Elena was right, D was very nice. He moved it over with B and continued down the row, sniffing, notating, and sniffing again until he ultimately set the ‘maybes’ aside to deal with after the trip. Perhaps if he waited, he’d be able to create one last batch from whatever inspiration struck in Tahoe.
The rhythm of it all steadied him. He worked best when he was alone in the workshop, where he was free to move about the space with no one asking what he was going to name each sample or who it was for, what it was inspired by. A different kind of calm washed over him when he was able to zone out. Or zone in, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that when he was locked in, that’s when some of his best creations were born.
***
The stench hit Shane in the face the moment they walked into Summit Supply - a mix of metal shelving, synthetic fabric, rubber soles, and something sharp and chemical, like fake pine.
“Someone overdid it with the alpine breeze diffuser,” he muttered, waving his hand in front of his nose as if it would help. “I feel like this is what a boardroom thinks a mountain smells like.”
The smell didn’t seem to bother Ilya, but then again he wasn’t a scent curator for a wax melt company. He didn’t experience the world through smell like Shane did. “Maybe you could convince them to try Afterglow. Might get us a discount next time we’re here.”
“Next time we pretend to be boyfriends and need snow gear for a trip that neither of us wants to go on?”
“Exactly.”
They wandered toward the back of the store, weaving between racks of workout clothes, sporting equipment, and shoes before finally reaching the section they were looking for. Colorful snowboards lined the wall and skis hung from the ceiling over a display of fleece sweaters and puffer jackets. Shane picked up a wool beanie and sniffed it before putting it back on the rack.
Ilya caught the motion and smirked. “Do you have to do that everywhere we go?”
“Habit,” Shane said, shrugging. “Didn’t smell how it looked.”
“How it looked?”
“Yeah, it’s yellow. Thought it would smell, I don’t know, yellowy.”
Ilya stared at him for a beat, blinked twice, and then sighed. “And what does yellow smell like, exactly?”
Shane hummed, grabbing a red sherpa-lined beanie and trying to be less obvious about sniffing it before slipping it on. “Like, sunny, warm, bright. Fresh. Like lemons maybe.”
“You wanted the hat to smell like lemons?”
“I didn’t want it to smell like lemons, I was just seeing. I don’t know, Ilya. It’s a work thing.”
“Right, the candle guy thing.”
“Scent curator,” Shane corrected. “And we don’t make candles, we make wax. That’s, like, the entire point of Afterglow - no flames. So, not candles.”
Ilya grinned, his glare only slightly judgmental as he turned and slid a blue and white beanie over his curls. “Sorry, Mr. Curator. I’ll try to remember that next time something doesn’t smell how it looks. Whatever that means.”
“Thank you,” Shane said. “It’s easier that way. That one looks good.”
“You think?” Ilya asked, spinning the rack of hats to find the mirror on the side of the display. “Oh yeah, I like it. Here, you should get one, too.”
Shane took the blue and white striped beanie from Ilya’s outstretched hand, traded it with the red one on his head, and stepped in front of the mirror. “You don’t think we’ll look weird with matching beanies?”
“I think we’ll look coupley. Isn’t that the point?”
Humming, Shane took the beanie off and tucked it under his arm. “Yeah I guess so.”
“Come on, babe.” Ilya winked, reaching for Shane's hand and leading him toward the jackets.
Pulling out of his reach, Shane glared at him and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Being your boyfriend, now come on. We need jackets.”
Shane allowed himself to be dragged over to the coats before yanking his arm away and finding a jacket in his size.
“Two hundred dollars for something that makes me look like a marshmallow,” Shane muttered, tugging on the zipper of the puffer jacket and twisting to see the back in the mirror.
A flash of color caught his eye and he turned to find Ilya holding up a deep royal blue parka next to the rack of jackets. “Yeah, that color isn’t working for you. Try this one.”
Shane slipped on the one Ilya handed him. It was sleeker, more fitted, and the color even matched his beanie. He nodded and met Ilya’s eyes in the mirror behind him.
“Yeah.” Ilya tugged on the bottom hem of the jacket, smoothing it out and giving a nod of approval. His breath was hot on Shane's neck as he added, “That’s something more like what I’d imagine my boyfriend wearing.”
Shane rolled his eyes and unzipped the parka, sliding it off and folding it over his arm while he waited for Ilya to sift through the rack again. “It smells like plastic and factory air.”
“How about this one? You’d never lose me in a snowstorm,” Ilya asked, ignoring his complaint.
“I am not dragging around an orange highlighter all weekend.”
He could see the gears turning in Ilya’s head, how he smirked a little at his own joke before he could even get it out. Ilya had already put the jacket back on its hanger when he asked, “What if I get some citrus shampoo so I’ll smell orange, too?”
Shane hated him. “That’s probably the only way I’d walk around with you looking like that, actually. You’ve finally cracked the code.”
Fifteen hundred dollars later, they each had new jackets, snow pants, beanies, and ski goggles. They hadn’t even gotten boots or gloves yet, or rented their snowboards. Living in the Sacramento Valley meant that they had to travel to get to the snow, so the warmest item of clothing in either of their closets was a hoodie. The winter there was warm enough for a light sweater most days, with the temperature only dipping below freezing at night, like, three weeks out of the year. Last time Shane went snowboarding, he borrowed his gear from a friend, but that was years ago. Since he was going for work, and since he actually had adult money now, he decided it was time to buy his own.
“Having a fake boyfriend is expensive,” Shane complained. “Can we break up yet?”
“Nope. You’ve already promised me a free weekend away, so you may as well impress your coworkers and make it worth it.”
***
Back at Shane's apartment, they dropped the bags by the couch and settled in to pack. Ilya crouched down beside the bags, removing tags and folding their jackets and pants. He stacked them into a pile next to Shane's duffel bags.
Shane sat cross-legged on the rug, pairing outfits together and setting them near his bag.
“When you’re finished packing we should practice,” Ilya said casually, folding one of Shane's shirts and tucking it inside his bag.
Shane balled a few pairs of socks together and tossed them aside. “Practice what?”
“Being boyfriends.” Ilya grabbed the socks from the top of Shane's pile and smoothed them out, folded them in half, and slid them down the side of his bag to fill in an empty gap. “Holding hands, touching…” Ilya looked up then, meeting Shane's eyes over the stack of clothes. “Kissing.”
Shane blinked. “Ilya.”
“Don’t ‘Ilya’ me. This is a romantic getaway. You know your coworkers are gonna be all coupled-up and we’ll need to match their energy. We have to practice so it’ll look natural. We can’t have you flinching away if I go to grab your hand.”
Taking a breath, Shane focused on folding his pajama pants without looking up. “I don’t feel like we need to practice that though. You just…hold hands? Easy.”
Laughing softly, Ilya’s tone softened. “Didn’t seem simple when I grabbed your hand in the store.”
“That’s because I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t know we were playing boyfriends yet.”
“Well,” Ilya started, grabbing the pajama pants from him and tucking them into Shane’s bag. “I still think we should practice. I don’t want your coworkers to think that I’m a bad lay because you don’t know how to kiss.”
His hands froze and Shane looked up sharply. “What? I know how to kiss.” The balled-up boxers in Shane's hand accidentally slipped and hit Ilya in the chest.
He caught them, one brow arched, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Sure you do.” Folding them in half, he pushed them down the side of the bag next to the socks. “Then prove it.”
“Seriously, Ilya?”
Ilya shrugged. “I mean, my job is to make people believe we’ve been dating for years, right? If we want it to be convincing, then we need to get used to touching each other.”
“Ilya, I’ve kissed hella people. I don’t need to get used to anything. You just…do it. What’s there to practice?”
“You know what? Why don’t you go grab a drink or something. Let me finish packing for you.” Ilya started refolding the jeans that Shane had set aside, flattening them out with his palms and probably making creases in them, but Shane wasn’t about to argue. “This will only take a few minutes, then we can relax and I’ll teach you how to kiss.”
“I don’t need to be taught.” Shane glared at him, but was already moving to stand up.
Ilya leaned back and a smile tugged at his lips. “We’ll see about that.”
***
It was annoying how fast Ilya finished packing. He was zipping the second bag closed before Shane could even finish half of his beer.
“Alright, all packed.” Ilya clapped his hands together before rubbing them on his thighs and standing up. “You know what that means?”
Shane didn’t bother looking up from the couch. “That you’re going home to pack your own bags now?”
“Ha, not quite.” Ilya nudged Shane's knee with his own, grinning. “Scooch over, we’ve got some boyfriending to rehearse.”
Shane let his head fall back dramatically. “Ilya, we’ve been over this. We don’t need to practice. It’ll be fine.”
“It won’t be.” Ilya put his hands on his hips and glared down at him. “And we do. We have to look like we’re comfortable with each other.”
“I am comfortable with you.” Shane gestured between them with a lazy flick of his hand. “We’ve been friends for, like, eighteen years.”
“That’s exactly the point. We’ll look like we’ve been friends for years and not, you know, boyfriends.”
“Fine,” Shane huffed, sitting up straighter even as he rolled his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
Ilya’s bottom lip pushed out into an exaggerated pout. “Way to make your boyfriend feel special. I thought you loved me.”
Shane scoffed and waved him off. “Shut up. Just do whatever you think we need to do to practice,” he said, his hands making air quotes around the word ‘practice.’
The couch dipped down beside Shane as Ilya sat down next to him, their bodies touching from hip to knee. And, that wasn’t so bad. It felt normal, like something he and Ilya already did when they watched movies together. This was going to be fine.
“Here, give me your hand. Do you like the top or bottom?”
Shane raised a brow, a smirk curling across his face. “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself, there?”
Ilya rolled his eyes. “I meant your thumb, dumbass. I already know you’re a bratty bottom.”
“Hey!” Shane scoffed, and he would’ve clutched his nonexistent pearls if Ilya hadn’t grabbed his hand.
Ilya ignored him, linking their fingers together and resting his thumb over top of Shane's. “Bottom? Or…” Repositioning their hands, Ilya made it so that Shane's thumb was now on top. “Top?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure. Let go and see what happens if I just reach for you naturally.”
Shane tried initiating the hand-holding a few times. They even stood up and walked around the living room linking and unlinking hands as they went, just to get a feel for it. For each other.
“I think the top. I don’t like when my thumb feels trapped.”
“Perfect,” Ilya said, tugging Shane's hand and pulling him against the front of his body. “Now hug me.”
“We hug all the time.” Shane's words were muffled with his face squished against Ilya’s shoulder. “This is unnecessary.”
“Not like this, we don’t. Now put your arms around me. And turn your head towards me like you aren’t trying to find an escape route.”
Shane did as he was told, sighing and turning to face Ilya. With his nose in Ilya’s neck, he couldn’t help himself when he inhaled. It smelled woodsy with just a hint of spice, and a warm undertone. If Shane had to guess the scent profile, he’d go with cedar, amber, and vanilla. It smelled nice. He snapped out of his scent-induced buzz when Ilya tugged Shane's arms out from between them, positioning them around his waist.
Stepping a little closer to regain his balance, Shane adjusted the hold he had on Ilya, falling into the embrace and hoping it felt comfortable. “Like this? This feels fine.”
“Yeah, I think this’ll be alright. Now let’s try it sitting down. Come cuddle me, babe.”
Shane was getting better at not rolling his eyes every time Ilya called him ‘babe’ or referred to him as his boyfriend, accepting the reality that in less than twenty four hours they’d be pretending to be boyfriends in front of an audience and didn’t have time for snark. Plus, Ilya was doing Shane a favor after all. He may as well put some effort into their fake relationship if they were going to make it believable.
Following Ilya over to the couch, Shane sat down first, scooting into the corner between two blue cushions. He raised his arm, leaving space for Ilya to scoot in and rest his head on his chest. Shane dropped his arm around Ilya’s shoulders, rubbing his thumb in circles over his shirt. “See, this isn’t so bad. I’m a natural.”
Ilya nudged closer, humming against Shane's chest as he got comfortable, wrapping his arms around Shane's waist. “It’s almost as if you’ve done this before.”
His shirt was soft under Shane's hand, and the warmth of Ilya’s body seeped through the thin fabric separating them. With Ilya’s head resting on him, he thought to himself that it wouldn’t be so bad to have to do this for the weekend. “So, what now?”
Craning his neck to look up at Shane, Ilya was upside-down with his curls nearly in Shane's mouth. Shane brushed them away with his fingers, leaving his hand in Ilya’s hair as he looked down at him. “Now…pretend we’re at the lodge. Your coworkers are gathered around the fire and someone is watching us. What do you do?”
Readjusting his body to face Shane more comfortably, Ilya slid out from under his arm and sat upright next to him.
“Um, I don’t know. Probably put my arm around you or something.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Or something.”
A beat passed where nothing happened and they just stared at each other. Ilya’s expression was careful, patient, his chin tilted like he was waiting for Shane to move first.
Shane felt his stomach tug uncomfortably. He knew Ilya was waiting for him to do something, but he wasn’t sure what. Or maybe he was sure, and that was the problem.
With a quiet sigh, he lifted his arm off his lap and slid it around Ilya’s back, his fingers skimming the fabric of Ilya’s shirt as he scooted an inch closer. He didn’t look at him, just settled his arm there, wordless.
“Okay, that’s a start. Now pretend you actually like me.”
Shane groaned under his breath and let his head fall back against the couch. “This is ridiculous, Ilya.”
“It’s not,” Ilya insisted, shifting so their hips brushed. “If the first time we kiss is in front of an audience, it isn’t gonna look real. We have to get the awkwardness out of the way before we do it in front of other people.”
Shane gave him a flat, knowing look. And then he said, “This isn’t the first time we’ve kissed, though. It’ll be fine.”
Ilya scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “We were like twelve. That doesn’t count.”
With a knowing smirk, Shane narrowed his eyes, lips twitching. “It wouldn’t even be our first time kissing in front of an audience. Remember that Halloween party a couple years ago?”
Ilya’s face flushed and Shane saw him swallow hard. That was something they never talked about. The few times they’d kissed in the past or when they woke up wrapped around each other, it was like it never happened once the sun came up. Shane never brought it up and Ilya didn’t either. It was just something they did, something that happened, and it was almost like talking about it would shatter something, or change things between them. Or keep it from happening again, maybe.
Ilya blinked a couple times like he wasn’t sure what to do, how to react to Shane bringing up their messy makeout session that happened in front of all of their friends. He paused for a second and then said, “That doesn’t count either. We were drunk.”
Shane huffed out a defeated breath, realizing that nothing he said was going to get him out of this. He knew that Ilya was right, but he’d never tell him so. He felt his throat bob, caught Ilya’s eyes on it as he swallowed dryly. “Okay, fine. So do we just…”
The edge of Ilya’s lips twitched and he was being way more calm about this than Shane was. It was annoying, actually. “Yeah, just go for it.”
Ilya just sat there looking at Shane, waiting for him to move. His clear blue eyes were open and inviting as they flicked down to Shane's mouth. Shane decided it would be better to just hurry up and get it over with.
Leaning in, Shane pressed a quick, perfunctory kiss against Ilya’s lips. It was brief, barely there, kinda awkward. Hopefully it was enough to get Ilya off of his case about needing to practice.
When he pulled back, Ilya blinked, unimpressed. “Okay,” he said flatly. “That’s nice. If you’re kissing your aunt.”
Shane frowned. “I don’t kiss my aunt.”
“Exactly.” Ilya’s glared at him. “Try again. Needs more chemistry. Pretend I’m one of your candles or something.”
Shane hesitated, then gave a small, resigned laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re stalling.”
So Shane leaned in again, slower this time, less reserved. The second kiss landed warmer, steadier. Still a little hesitant, but not bad. Ilya didn’t rush him, didn’t push. He just kissed back once, easy and certain. His tongue brushed against Shane's lips, a teasing flick of warmth slipping in just enough to urge Shane to open his mouth a bit and chase after him. It was easier with Ilya leading, and just as they’d started getting into a decent rhythm, Ilya pulled away.
When they broke apart, Shane blinked like he’d forgotten it was supposed to be fake for a second. His hand was still on the back of the couch, fingers brushing Ilya’s shoulder. His mind flashed back to the Halloween party they went to in their early twenties, how the warmth from Ilya’s tongue zapped through his entire body and left him stunned. How it was even better now.
Ilya’s mouth curved into a small, smug smile. “Better.”
The quiet stretched between them, filled only by the soft hum of the heater. Shane cleared his throat, sitting back and reaching for his beer to finish it off. “Great,” he said between gulps. “We’re done, then.”
“Sure,” Ilya said, settling back beside him. “For now.”
Shane gave him a sideways look. “You’re impossible.”
Ilya smirked, leaning his head against the cushion. “And yet you still chose me to be your fake boyfriend.”
“Actually, Scott chose you,” Shane responded. “If we’re being technical.”
“Only because you have pictures of me all over your desk,” Ilya teased, his dimples cutting deep into his cheeks as he said it.
Shane scoffed, rolling his head along the back of the couch to glare at him. “I have, like, three pictures of us. It’s not my fault we’ve known each other forever and go everywhere together.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not,” Shane admitted. “I just didn’t realize how it looked until Scott pointed it out.”
Ilya hummed, stretching his socked foot out until it bumped Shane's. “Well, might as well commit to the bit.”
“You’re taking this way too seriously.”
“Someone has to,” Ilya said lightly. “What time are we leaving tomorrow?”
Shane checked his phone. “If we want to beat traffic, I’ll pick you up around seven.”
Ilya groaned. “Seven is inhumane.”
“So is pretending to be my boyfriend, but here we are.”
Ilya laughed, a low, warm sound that filled the room. “Fine. Seven it is. Can you stop for coffee on the way?”
“If you promise to leave your sparkling morning personality at home, sure.”
“Hey!” Ilya’s brows scrunched like he was upset, but they both knew that Ilya wasn’t a morning person. After all, they’d known each other since they were eight and nine, and not once has Shane seen him in a good mood before ten a.m. They shared a knowing look and laughed.
Ilya stood up, stretching his arms over his head and groaning. “Well, I still have to pack so I’m gonna head out now. See you in the morning, Shane.”
“Night, Ilya. See you at seven.”
“-ish,” Ilya added just before the door closed behind him.