Work Text:
It’s starts with Ilya insinuating, for the umpteenth time, that Shane kind of sucks at sexting.
This, serendipitously, coincides with his visit to Hayden’s home while he’s away to the mandatory bimonthly acquarium visit, supervising the girls as Jackie spends a relatively peaceful day lounging around with the baby.
“Did you bring another box of chocolate to woo my children?” Jackie asks him when he sets down a big package onto their kitchen counter.
Shane gives her a half-smile, settling into the armchair that is more or less reserved as his spot in their house, and shrugs affably, “I need to do something to maintain my top spot in their hierarchy of Uncles.”
“You can just show your face every once in a while and that’ll be enough,” Jackie says. She’s nursing a hot cup of coffee that is starting to get tepid. “Missing Hayden? He won’t be back till nightfall.”
“No, no,” Shane chuckles, regarding Jackie with a meaningful look she can’t decipher. “I am glad he isn’t here, actually. I need some advice. From you.”
Jackie’s brow makes a perfect arch and she sits up, her antenna for gossip standing taut, “Oh? What’s this about?”
Shane clears his throat awkwardly, looking around, “Arthur?”
Jackie waves a hand, “He’s sleeping Shane. Don’t worry.”
“Okay,” Shane says haltingly and braces himself. Generally, he would rather pull teeth than reveal anything about Ilya and his relationship to anyone in his life but this is an exception. This is a matter of competition and well, ego. And one thing Shane’s never gonna do is back down from a challenge. Even when it’s ill-advised to pursue it.
“I was just wondering... ” Shane says, trying to adopt a casual sort of air. “About—um, sexting.”
Jackie stares blankly at him for twelve long seconds before her expression cracks and she huffs a laugh, “Oh my god, Shane. I thought it was going to be something monumental and serious. Sexting? Sexting is easy.”
“It is?” Shane says before he can stop himself, sounding genuinely impressed. “Can you— can you share some tips?”
“Bless you,” Jackie says, still sobering from her bout of laughter. She places a hand on Shane’s arm and squeezes it. She has that look on her face only her kids ever coax out, like she wants to pinch the life out of their cheeks but is holding herself back from doing so. Shane isn’t sure he likes being the receiver of that look.
“Sure, I’ll share a few tips,” Jackie says graciously, a smile playing on her lips.
“You can’t tell Hayden,” Shane says.
“I can’t?”
“No, please, don’t,” Shane emphasizes. “He’ll tease me to death, Jackie. I can’t handle that.”
“You think I won’t?”
“You’re too decent for that.”
Jackie leans back, sipping from her mug, then she nods her head resolutely, “You’ve convinced me. I’ll be the bearer of your secret. But, well, the issue is Shane that I have only ever sexted men.”
Shane momentarily forgets to react. It’s not an issue—infact, it’s the perfect experience for him to gain wisdom from, but Jackie doesn’t know that and he will be screwed if he lets her gain a clue about this.
“That’s fine,” Shane says, keeping his voice decidedly neutral. “I can just... translate the context for, um, women.”
Jackie laughs again, not even attempting to get a hold of herself time around, “You’re really determined about this, huh?”
“I’m always determined about everything, I think,” Shane says flatly. “So? Tips?”
Jackie finishes her coffee and gathers her blanket, pooling it on her lap. She has a twinkle in her eye, like Shane has awoken something within her, and she grabs a notebook and pen off the coffee table, and begins to write. Shane watches her with fascination, wondering if this is what consulting with a witch would feel like.
Tip #1: Walk the road less traveled by. Go for the unconventional, niche compliment.
“Will you stop smiling at your fucking phone?” Marleau says, throwing his sweaty shirt at Ilya’s head. “It’s starting to get gross.”
Ilya pins him with an unimpressed look and discards his filthy tshirt on the handle of the benchpress.
Sidling upto him, Ilya leans against the treadmill’s stand, watching Marleau ramp up the speed.
“Say, Marleau,” he crosses his arms underneath his clothed chest. “Are my tits really that impressive?”
Marleau groans in exaggerated agony and presses a hand against Ilya’s face, pushing him away. “I don’t give a fuck, Rozanov. Ask your... lady about it.”
Ilya smirks, ducking under him and letting out a humored laugh, “My lady is the one who pointed it out in first place.”
“Goddamn, bro,” Marleau says, starting to get out of breath. “She’s got your ass whipped.”
“Russians don’t do “whipped”, okay?” Ilya says, as he walks back to his spot, unlocking his phone to go over the texts with Shane once more.
Despite himself, he can’t help but crack another small smile.
#Tip 2: Everything is a sexual innuendo. The world is your oyester. Sexy lies within the dick of the beholder, so behold that dick. Metaphorically.
Tip #3: Be blunt. Nothing is more arousing than being extremely honest. Hornier the better.
“Marleau,” Ilya says, placing a grounding hand on his friend’s shoulder. Sombrely, he confesses, “My lady is a freak. An absolute fucking freak.”
“Match made in heaven, you two,” Marleau replies, shrugging him off with a disgusted but also envious look. “Stop rubbing your thriving sex life into my face. Get lost.”
Ilya bursts into happy, cheeky laughter, content beyond belief that Shane’s started being unreserved in their texts. It’s simultaneously the most bizarre yet the most entertaining thing he’s ever witnessed.
He sighs and pockets his wallet and phone. Time to go buy some rope—for some recreational purposes.
He’ll die before he lets Shane outfreak him, after all.