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The ice rink smells like cold air, rubber, and every moment Shane has ever loved and hated wrapped up into one.
Shane sucks in a breath as he takes it all in. The moment he walked in, trailing behind Ilya and their three-year-old son, the icy cold air slipped into his lungs and settled deeply within his chest like an old memory.
Familiar, comfortable, and achingly so.
Shane can’t deny it; God, he misses hockey.
He misses the ice. He misses the rush, building relationships with the other players, and the feeling of finally getting the puck past the goalie. The cheers, the crowds, even the Zamboni.
Shane stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket, ignoring his own desperate want to go back out there, be back out there. He’s almost four years into retirement now, although Shane’s still positive the muscle memory would come back in an instant if given the chance.
Before he can make that decision, a motion tugs across his middle.
The curve of his stomach there is unmistakable now, even under his hoodie - round, firm, gently pressing back against his knuckles when he shifts to press a thumb to the spot the baby moved in.
Pregnancy feels different this time. Five months in, and his body was already a stranger: hips widening, face swollen, his once-flat abs that he spent so long working for after Lev stretched. Luckily, Shane already knew what to expect week by week, when his body would ache, when his hips would feel like pins and needles, and when he would first feel a baby kick.
A reminder that his body is building something bigger than a season, bigger than a Stanley Cup game.
Twins.
The word still felt as unreal as it had the first time he heard he was having twins, but the proof was in the swell of his stomach. Soon, there will be two more people to love, two more pieces of Ilya in the world. His favorite person, the love of his life, gave him two more amazing humans.
Identical twin girls.
Shane breathes out slowly, something warm and complicated unfurling in his chest as he shifts his gaze down.
Beside him, Ilya is kneeling to tighten the laces on a pair of tiny skates. His movements are careful, practiced, bundled in patience. He whispers something in Russian to their toddler, which Shane is unsure if he really understands.
Lev, however, is all restless toddler energy, wrapped in winter layers, as he sits on the bench.
He’s dressed for the ice but not happy about it - bottom lip pushed out as he tries his hardest not to try, brows pinched tight, small hands balled into the fabric of the bottom of Shane’s hoodie like he’s afraid to let go.
He’s only three.
And unfortunately for Shane, he inherited Ilya’s stubborn streak.
“I want Daddy to skate with me,” Lev announces loudly to Ilya for the third time since Ilya sat him down on the bench.
Shane’s heart squeezes as one of the twins kicks roughly.
The doctor had been very clear - sit down, don’t skate, don’t even try to find a way to get on the ice, keep your butt down, and watch your son.
Even if Shane didn’t listen, he had an overprotective alpha who had made sure Shane didn’t have a chance to hide his skates in the car. Shane’s not sure where his skates could have gone. He has his suspicions, though.
Yeah, he thinks. Me too, kiddo.
“I know, solnyshko,” Ilya says gently, finishing a final knot on Lev’s skates. He rises to his feet before helping Lev down onto the floor with two careful hands. Once his tiny feet are set on the rubber mat, Lev instinctively grabs onto Shane’s hand.
He holds onto Shane tightly with his mittened hands, pushing himself in closely to Shane’s body. Shane’s entire heart melts, and then breaks.
“But Papa can’t right now,” Ilya finishes softly.
“He can.” He says matter-of-factly, for a toddler who has never been proven incorrect in his life.
“Lev, we talked about this.” Shane has to speak, or else he’ll start crying over his son. Damn pregnancy hormones. His voice stays calm and kind, even though all he wants to do is wrap his little boy up in his arms and skate with him. “The doctor said that the babies need me to sit down and rest.”
Lev sniffles, rubbing his eyes with his mittens, adorned with a cartoon bear. “Babies dumb.” He mumbles,
“Hey,” Shane says, amused. “Nice words about your sisters, okay?”
“Daddy is right, Lev.” Ilya nods his head. “Do not call your sisters dumb. One day, your sisters will be your best friends.”
“Daddy is my best friend.” Lev pouts, his grip tightening around Shane’s hand. He doesn’t move his feet though, not yet willing to trust the new ice or the skates or even Ilya at this point. “I wanna skate with Daddy.”
Maybe Lev was too young for his first skating lesson. After all, he had only turned three a few months prior. He was still so little, still Shane’s baby boy that he carried and nursed for months.
Still his baby.
Shane asked his mother when he first skated. Yuna told him he was either four or almost four, but his father swore he was skating by three.
In honesty, three seemed ambitious to Shane, but at this point in Lev’s little life, the point was to get him onto the ice to have fun skating. He didn’t need to be an expert at skating by the end of their hour of practice. He didn’t need to be beating records or skating as fast as Ilya or Shane.
Shane tucks one of the escaped blonde curls back under Lev's beanie. God, he looks like Ilya. Shane gave him the freckles and the big brown eyes, but everything else is pure Ilya Rozanov, compressed into a stubborn toddler.
“How about after your sisters are born, once they’re a little bigger, we have a Daddy and Lev day?” Shane starts with a smile, trying his best to hide the ache that’s been growing in his heart since they walked inside. “Just me and you and-”
“And Papa,” Ilya interrupts, nodding his head quickly as if to give himself whiplash. “Papa too.”
“No, Daddy and Lev only,” Shane replies quickly, shooting a glare at Ilya. “Papa will stay home with your baby sisters.”
“Not fair. I want to join Daddy and Lev Day. I am daddy too. I deserve to come -”
Shane glares over at Ilya, dark eyes narrowed as he plays with their son’s blonde curls. “Shut up, Ilya,” he mouths.
Luckily, Lev can’t read lips, but Ilya can.
Lev hangs onto Shane’s hand, eyeing up at his alpha father with the kind of look that nearly brings Ilya to his knees. Big brown eyes behind long lashes.
“Lyovushka,” Ilya starts softly, his voice merely a whisper. He bends down on one knee to eye level with Lev. Gently, Ilya presses a soft kiss to the middle of the toddler’s head. “What is wrong? Will you tell Papa?”
“I wanna skate with Daddy!” Lev argues, his little grip tightening around Shane’s hand. “Daddy promise! Daddy is good at skating!”
Shane fights back the urge to egg his son on. Of course, Lev would think how amazing he was. All the toddler wanted to watch at home leading up to today were videos of Shane skating. Lev’s favorite was a YouTube video of Shane’s top ten plays, all the way from his rookie year to the season before he retired, and Lev was born.
Ilya had tried, and failed, to get Lev to watch a video of his best score in Ottawa. And despite being just as great as Shane, he never could live up to his omega.
“Lev,” Shane starts, slightly nudging his son with their hand. “Skate with Papa. He is just as good at skating as I am.”
“Better, actually.” Ilya interrupts, still facing their son with a grin.
“Ilya.”
“What?” Ilya looks up at Shane, blue eyes shining under the low light of the rink. “Is true. I am better skater than you. Especially now that you are -” Ilya gestures at the very obvious baby bump. “Expecting.”
Shane huffs, rolling his eyes. “Thanks, baby.”
His attention is taken away by the sudden tug on his sleeve, rolling up. Lev nudges his nose into Shane’s wrist, taking in the milky pregnant scent of his omega parent as he scents himself. His chocolate brown eyes stare into Ilya’s.
“Daddy?” Lev pouts as he turns his head up. “Up?”
Shane grimaces. Doctor’s orders - nothing above ten pounds due to the stress the twins had been putting on his body. He wants so desperately to pick Lev up, hold him tightly in his arms as Lev takes in his whole scent. He wants to hold tight like he did every single day since Lev was a newborn.
Shane wants him to be his little baby just a bit longer. Only a little bit longer. A few more days, maybe weeks. Maybe years. Even after the twins arrive, Lev will still be Shane’s baby.
“Maybe when we get home, baby.” Shane rustles his hair, fighting back the urge to say fuck it and walk onto the ice, twenty-three weeks pregnant and all. “Remember, the doctor wants me to make sure your sisters stay inside as long as they can.”
Instead of arguing, Lev leans in closer and presses his nose carefully against the inside of Shane’s wrist. A slow inhale. Exhale. Breathing in Shane’s sweet, milky omega scent - the same way Ilya does at home.
The same way he watched Papa do a hundred times before.
Learning.
Copying.
The tightness in Lev’s shoulders slowly eases. His grip on Shane’s sleeve loosens, though he doesn’t let go entirely. He presses his little face into the side of Shane’s thigh, trying to stay just a second longer, a minute longer.
Ilya and Shane look at their son for a long moment. But it’s Ilya who holds out both hands, palms up to their baby.
"Come on, then, Levosha." Ilya breaks the silence. His voice is soft, gentle. Patient. "I will hold your hands. You will not fall, and Daddy will be right there, watching us. He is not going to leave the rink. Okay?"
Lev studies his father's hands. Then up at Shane as if he’s asking for permission. His cheeks are rosy from the cold, but his lips aren’t quivering anymore. He doesn’t look so much like the baby that Shane still so desperately wishes he could be for one day longer.
Shane nods. Go.
Very slowly, Lev lets go of his comfort and places two small mittened hands into Ilya’s.
“Okay, Papa.” He whispers, a stubborn frown still prominent on his face.
Ilya gives the toddler a large smile, whispering to just him, “you are so brave, little lion.”
Before standing, Ilya presses a warm kiss to the curve of Shane’s stomach. The twins shift beneath the touch, making Shane press a hand to the top of the curve. Ilya straightens up, hands still clasped with Lev’s little ones, and steals a quick kiss from Shane’s lips.
Shane melts into the kiss, nearly forgetting that just seconds ago, he was annoyed at his husband.
Lev watches the entire exchange with serious concentration. He watches as Shane melts into Ilya’s kiss, but doesn’t say a word. No beg to be picked up and having his father kiss his chubby cheeks. No, not even a plea for Shane to bend down and kiss him back with puppy dog eyes and all.
No.
Instead, Lev carefully shuffles his body forward and kisses the underside of Shane’s belly.
“Hi, sisters,” Lev murmurs earnestly to the bump. A small smile grows on his face as he speaks. “Watch me skate with Papa, okay?”
Shane’s chest tightens so hard it physically hurts him. Why did Ilya hide his skates? He should be on the ice with them; he wants to be out there so badly. So much that it hurts him. Hurts every part of him
“Your sisters will watch you,” Shane promises softly with a forced smile on his face.
Without another word, Ilya easily guides Lev to the ice. It looks silly to Shane at first, Ilya hunched over in his own skating gear as he slowly walks a toddler who hadn’t used his skates at all to the ice for the first time. He almost smiles - just, almost.
Shane sits down on the benches and watches.
The girls are silent now, tucked in between his ribs and pelvis, right where they should be. There were still four months left before they planned to meet them - their daughters - but there was still worry it might be sooner.
Shane would be lying if he told Ilya he wasn’t disappointed that he couldn’t be out there with Lev.
Since he was pregnant with Lev, Shane imagined how that day would go over and over. It would be the three of them all together, both he and Ilya on the ice, holding Lev’s tiny mitten hands in their own. Even if he happened to be pregnant, like he was now, he could have skated. Sure, it may not have been recommended or even allowed depending on how far along he was, but if he was in his second trimester, he could manage.
But then they heard those two heartbeats at the first ultrasound, and everything changed.
Plans changed. There were already concerns about his health; the doctor had mentioned an increased risk of gestational diabetes with twins and high blood pressure, both things he didn’t have to worry about when he was pregnant with Lev. He didn’t have to worry about anything but the nursery, naming their son, and bringing him into the world.
Now, he had to worry about everything and anything.
So, he watches.
He watches as Ilya exaggerates walking like a penguin, which makes Lev belly laugh on the ice. He watches as Ilya takes hold of Lev’s hand and tells him to take one step forward, that he wasn’t going to let go, that he has him. He’ll always have him.
He watches as Ilya makes a joke, and Lev bursts into a fit of giggles.
He watches as Lev struggles, and Ilya skates flawlessly around him. Like how Shane should be doing right now. Like how Shane imagined it would be, only without him there.
Lev looks like every three-year-old on the ice. Stiff, uncoordinated, confused. Shane immediately notices that his legs aren’t bent enough, but before he can yell at Ilya to correct Lev’s positioning before he falls onto his face, Lev falls.
A soft, padded thud onto his bottom. And then, a sharp, loud cry. Lev doesn’t move, but he looks at Shane on the ice, tears flowing down his face quickly as he cries out a sentence that Shane can’t understand.
Shane’s body reacts before his brain can. He half rises from his seat on the bench too quickly, nearly losing his balance from the gravity of his stomach. A sharp pain flares in his back, causing him to use the bench as support as he watches.
It feels like forever as Ilya skates only two inches to their son. Shane’s mouth feels dry as he watches Ilya bend down to the toddler and say something softly to him. Something that makes the tears quickly stop on his chubby face, something that makes his frown turn into a smile.
Ilya points at Shane. Quietly says something else,
“Daddy!” He yells with a grin and a tear-stained face. “I fell”
Shane forces a smile, still half-standing, still in pain in his back from the weight of his belly and the way he’s standing. “I saw, Lev.” He yells back. “That was a good fall. Fall on your bottom, not your face. Easier for you to get up.”
“Papa said I’m like you!” Lev repeats.
“Ilya - ” Shane warns, slowly sinking back down.
“What?” Ilya grins like an asshole. Which he is. He helps Lev back onto his skates, holding onto the toddler’s hands tightly again. “I told Lev that he is brave like Daddy. I did not call you boring in front of our child.”
“Daddy, Daddy!” Lev continues, the grin on his face growing wider. The fall is already long forgotten. “I’m just like you! I’m just like Daddy!”
Shane smiles back at his son, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
For his first time on the ice, Lev’s first skating lesson went as smoothly as Ilya had assumed it would.
Which was okay. Not great. Not terrible that Ilya was never bringing him back until after he turned four. Just okay.
He had fallen countless times on his back or onto his hands on the ice. Falling became a game for Lev to see how many steps he could take before he fell back down again and tried again and again. Each time he fell, he looked for Shane on the bench and yelled for him. Yelled at him that he was just like him, or that he fell, and he did such a good job falling.
And once, he laughed loudly before getting back to his feet.
Now, Lev is slumped on Ilya’s shoulder, chubby fingers playing with Ilya’s cross. He rubs the metal with his thumb and forefinger, just like he always does whenever he’s seeking comfort or tired.
“Sleepy, Lyovushka?” Ilya asks before pressing a gentle kiss onto the top of the toddler’s head.
“Nyet.” Lev mumbles in Russian, dropping the cross to rub his eyes instead. He frowns. “Not sleepy, Papa.”
“Riiight.”
Shane makes a noise beside them. Not quite a laugh, but not quite a groan. His hands are locked with Ilya's, tight as if he’s afraid he’ll slip away.
Ilya watches Shane from the corner of his eye as they walk through the nearly empty parking lot. The tight set of his brows. The way his gaze keeps drifting away is unfocused, unsteady. The way his smile at the bench seemed so lonely, despite Ilya and Lev only being feet away.
Ilya shifts his grip, tucking Lev more securely against his chest.
At the car, Ilya eases Lev into his car seat. The toddler’s eyes are slowly dropping, his little cheeks pressed against the car seat as Ilya fumbles with the restraints. His nose scrunches when Ilya brushes back Lev’s long blonde curls.
Lev’s too much like him - stubborn, thinks the world of Shane, loves fully with his entire heart. As terrified as he was to be his father, none of it felt
“You can sleep if you must, Lyovushka,” Ilya whispers.
Lev rubs his eyes again, a little yawn escaping from his mouth. “Don’t wanna.” He pouts, crushing Ilya’s heart in all the best ways. “I not sleepy, Papa.”
Ilya chuckles to himself. He sees all Shane in that pout - it doesn’t help him much that Lev’s big chocolate eyes are just Shane’s eyes, plastered onto a chubby toddler face that resembles Ilya’s.
“I had fun, Papa.” The toddler bats his little eyes, starting to fall into dreamland. “Can we skate again tomorrow?”
“Maybe next weekend, sólnyshka.” Gently, the alpha brushed back his son’s curls out of his face. Lev’s breathing turns shallow, already knocked out to the world. “Maybe.” He repeats quietly before gently pressing a kiss onto his son’s forehead.
God loves his son so much.
For someone who was so terrified of finding a way to ruin his child, the child he so desperately wanted with Shane for years, he couldn’t imagine a world without Lev. Lev was everything he wanted: funny, smart, sweet, and all the best parts of Shane wrapped into one tiny human.
Ilya still doesn’t understand how his father could look at him and think he wasn’t worth love. All he can think about when he sees Lev is how much he loves him, how perfect he is, and how he would do anything to have his son smile.
Shane’s already buckled into the driver’s side seat when Ilya opens the passenger door. The bump looks cute with the seatbelt around him. Much bigger than it had been at this point during Shane’s pregnancy with Lev, but Ilya chalked that up to this being Shane’s second pregnancy and there being twins growing inside his husband instead of just one baby.
Twins.
The reminder that they were having twins made Ilya grin like a wildman. He had put not just one baby, but two, inside Shane. Shane was growing two pups for him! It drove the alpha inside him wild, almost just as much as Shane’s pregnancy scent had done the first time around.
He leans over and kisses Shane’s cheek like a fool, sloppy and wet, silently hoping that it gets a smile out of his husband.
It doesn’t.
“Would you like me to drive?” Ilya asks.
Shane snorts stubbornly. His grip on the steering wheel tightens under his knuckles.
“No, it’s fine.” He says, checking the rearview mirror to see Lev asleep in his car seat.
Before Ilya can argue with him, the engine rumbles to life. For a moment, they just sit there, in the nearly empty parking lot. Shane’s fingers are tight around the leather steering wheel.
Neither of them says another word, and Shane shifts the car into drive.
The rink disappears in the rearview mirror, but isn’t forgotten by either of them. The only sound in the car is the hum of the engine and Lev’s slow open-mouth breathing in the backseat. Not even music blares from the radio.
The drive home should only take about twenty minutes, but Ilya doesn’t want to spend it in silence. He glances at Shane, fully expecting him to start the conversation, but Shane’s gaze is focused on the road. He doesn’t seem to notice Ilya is staring at him, or maybe he does, and he’s just really good at hiding it.
Seven minutes into the drive, and Ilya opens his mouth.
“He did good today,” Ilya whispers so as not to wake up the sleeping toddler in the back. He laces his fingers with Shane’s on the gear shift.
Shane grunts, eyes focused on the road in front of them. “Yeah. Better than I thought he would.”
“Well, he is three.” Ilya chuckles softly. “You do not expect him to be a prodigy today, do you?”
“Well, he is the son of two professional hockey players -”
“Retired.” The alpha interrupts with a cocky grin. “Retired hockey players. We are retired.”
“It doesn’t matter. We played professionally for years, Ilya. That’s like saying a doctor can’t call themselves a doctor because they retired after thirty years of service.”
Ilya smiles beside himself. “Well. They are retired doctors.”
Shane playfully smacks him on the shoulder with one hand.
“Ow.” Ilya dramatically moans, rubbing his shoulder. “You are so mean. You know that? Such a mean husband. I should cancel you on Instagram again.”
For the first time since they entered the rink, Shane smiles. Not the soft, assuring yet sad smile he had given Lev when he wanted him, or the fake smile he gave Ilya every time he waved to him from the ice.
But a real, true Shane Hollander smile that reaches his eyes.
“Just because I told you to organize your shirts better doesn’t mean I deserve to have hundreds of messages taking your side or that I am mean, Ilya.”
“Yes, you are.” Ilya nods earnestly. “And the people agree with me on Instagram. Even user shanehollander_as_seals agrees with me.”
That nearly makes Shane laugh out loud. Nearly.
Instead, all Ilya sees is the pain behind his eyes. He noticed Shane’s demeanor change the moment they walked into the rink. He was zoned out, eyes glazed as he stared at what had been his life for nearly twenty years and the reality of his plans for their son’s first lesson crumbling underneath him.
Ilya can only imagine the turmoil inside Shane.
If he could get pregnant, if he were an omega, he would be upset too. But he’s not pregnant, he’s not an omega, and he got to hold their son’s hand on the ice for the first time ever.
Shane didn’t.
“Shane,” Ilya starts, rubbing his thumb across Shane’s hand on the gearshift - small, absent motion. It’s the only thing he can think of to comfort his husband. The only way he can think to reach him without pushing him too much.
Silence stretches between them.
Shane doesn’t look at him. Ilya notices that Shane looks at the rearview mirror once, and then twice, watching as Lev continues to nap. His jaw is tight, eyes locked, yet filled with so much silence.
Shane’s fingers tighten slightly under Ilya’s hand. Just for a second. Not any longer, and then his fingers still again.
“I thought I’d be the one holding his hands,” Shane murmurs.
Ilya nods. He wanted Shane there on the ice, too, but when the doctor gave the order that he needed to limit his exercising and skating was out of the question, he knew he couldn’t have Shane be there. Too many bad scenarios ran through Ilya’s brain at every moment now. One small grunt from Shane could be the difference between a kick and contractions.
“He kept looking at you,” Ilya says softly, looking back at Shane.
“It wasn’t the same.” Shane pouts - just like their son had done over an hour ago. Ilya has to stop himself from smiling at how similar Shane looks to their three-year-old. “Don’t smile. You’re being an asshole.”
“Fucking language, Shane.” He teases.
“I’m serious, Ilya.” His eyes narrow as he makes a right turn.
“And I am too.” Ilya’s voice turns softer, quieter. His smirk turns into a small frown as he studies Shane’s face. “He was looking at you the entire time. He wanted you there with us. You were there.”
“No, I wasn’t.” Shane raises his voice slightly. “I wasn’t skating with you.”
The words sit heavy between them. Ilya’s not sure what to say, or if he should even say anything to begin with. Fighting with a pregnant omega was already a shitty thing to do, but fighting his pregnant omega after his plans had already been shattered? Yeah, no, Ilya wasn’t that stupid.
The car slows as they pull into their driveway. Gravel crunches under the tires as Shane brings the car to a stop and then parks. Neither of them gets out, not yet anyway.
Not until a small stir is heard in the backseat.
Shane and Ilya both turn instinctively, fully expecting Lev to be waking up after a twenty-minute power nap. But, he’s still fully asleep. For how long, neither are sure.
“I should probably -” Ilya breathes, already unbuckling himself.
“Yeah,” Shane says a bit too quickly, hand pressed to the curve of his stomach. “He sleeps better in his bed anyway.”
Ilya nods and quickly exits the passenger side. He moves at a speed that Shane’s envious of. By the time that Shane is out of the car - one hand on his back, another on the car to steady himself - Ilya has Lev in his arms. Lev’s face is buried into his shoulder, curls mussed, one small arm hanging loose.
“I’ll put him down.” He whispers to Shane, kissing his lips quickly.
Shane nods, saying nothing.
The walk to Lev’s bedroom from the front door doesn’t take long, but it feels like forever for Ilya. Anya’s excited to see them when they walk in, Shane right behind Ilya as he walks with the hand still on his back, but she’s more focused on Shane and smelling the bump than the napping toddler in Ilya’s arms.
Ilya lays Lev in his toddler bed with his favorite stuffed dinosaur. Lev doesn’t even wake up as his father pulls the cover over his small body and presses a gentle kiss to the top of his curly blonde hair.
“Sleep well, Lyovushka.” He whispers, kissing the top of his son’s head. Lev mumbles something in his sleep and turns onto his side, facing the wall.
Just like Shane.
The alpha chuckles lightly again before pressing a kiss onto the top of Lev’s curly head. Lev may have been growing up too quickly for Ilya’s own liking, but that’s okay. Just meant there would be more time between
And now, he gets to do it all over again with two babies.
How lucky is Ilya?
Ilya finds Shane in the hallway, standing in a pool of late golden light from the window at the end of the hall. He's not doing anything in particular - just standing there, both hands resting on the curve of his stomach. His expression is quiet, watching as Anya frolics in the backyard. She must be chasing a rabbit or a squirrel.
There’s a soft smile on his face, softer than what was there at the rink.
Shane looks over as he hears Ilya’s footsteps.
“Hey.” He says casually, like he didn’t just see his husband 5 minutes ago.
“Hi.” Ilya stops in front of him, a small grin appearing on his face. He feels a familiar pull - the one that hasn't faded in years, that he suspects won’t fade in the years to come. He sets his hands on Shane's waist, working around the bump, pulling him in close to his body. “You come often, handsome?”
“To my house?” Shane huffs back. He rests a hand on Ilya’s broad shoulder, head tilting as he smiles at his mate, his husband, the love of his life. “I paid for it.”
“Is it? I pay mortgage -”
“Ilya, we paid for the house flat out. We don’t have a mortgage.”
“You ruin fun.” Ilya jests. Shane rolls his eyes, but before he can come back with a snarky reply, Ilya kisses him. Softly, gently, with nothing behind it other than the love he had for Shane and their growing family. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Shane hums.
“I am sorry you could not join Lev and me on ice. But the girls need you.” Ilya rests his chin on the top of Shane’s head. “And I would rather you be safe with the girls and mad at me than something bad happening, okay?”
A sigh escapes Shane’s throat. Oh, he knows the babies need him. He’s been told that since the words ‘high risk’ were first uttered at an appointment. The babies needed him more than he needed to skate, but it still didn’t hurt any less.
He wanted to be out there. Wanted to be the one to hold Lev’s hand as he walked across the ice for the first time. To be the one who helped Lev up and kissed his rosy cheeks as he whispered how brave and amazing he was. To be the one who Lev skated to for the first time.
It was just that two little girls needed him more.
“It’s okay,” Shane mumbles. He’ll get over it - maybe. Maybe not. Maybe this will be the one thing he regrets. If it does, then maybe he did a good job as a father. “I just wish I could have been out there with both of you. I imagined his first skating lesson being different for so long. Just feels unfair that it didn’t go well.”
“Well, did you imagine him having fun?” Ilya asks.
Shane blinks.
“Yes.” That wasn’t a lie. He imagined Lev would love the ice as much as he remembered loving the ice. He imagined he would have been amazing, already taking long strides across the rink with him and Ilya within a lesson or two.
He imagined Lev smiling, opening his arms up to Ilya as he skated to him.
“Hmmm.” Ilya drops his head down to Shane’s neck, inhaling the sweet milky pregnancy scent of his omega. “And did you imagine him smiling?”
“Of course.” Shane scoffs. “I knew he would end up enjoying it.”
Ilya hums. “Then, I think it was almost your vision, yes? Lev smiled. He had fun, and he skated. He was on the ice. He did not cut his hand off on the blade -”
“Okay, I did not include that in my vision.” Shane groans.
“Not the point. The point is that he seemed to enjoy it, yes?”
Shane huffs, one of his hands resting on his back. Lev did look like he was having fun, especially after his first fall. He wasn’t going to the NHL anytime soon, but he had fun. More fun than Shane can remember the last time he had fun skating.
“When they are here, we should go back.” Ilya starts, a large hand splayed wide over Shane’s bump, fingers splaying to cover as much of the taut skin as possible. He can feel one of the twins shift slightly under his palm - just a small,
Shane’s breath hitches for a moment. The nudge is hard and rough - worse than how it felt when he was this far along with Lev. His own hand joins with Ilya’s, their fingers lacing together over their daughters’ home. She rests his forehead in the crook of Ilya’s neck and exhales.
“Lev looked for me when you were teaching.” He quietly says. “He wants me out there with you. With him.”
“I know.” Ilya brushes Shane’s hair back. It’s gotten longer in these last few months; he knows Shane will want to cut it before tiny newborn hands start gripping and pulling at his hair during late-night burping sessions. He makes a note to bring it up to him later. “He was so brave.”
Shane smiles. “He was. He really was. And next time, I’ll be there.”
“You were there.”
“No, I’ll be there.” Shane moves his head off Ilya’s neck. His brown eyes are watery with tears. “I’ll be out there. With you and Lev. After the girls arrive, we can leave them with my mom and dad. Maybe we can bring them if they’re not born premature and their lungs are strong enough. I’m sure they could handle the cold air of the rink, but all those germs…”
Ilya draws a circle with his index finger around Shane’s stomach as another twin nudges, maybe a knee or a foot, kicking outwards. His lips purse together, nodding as Shane rattles on about a certain plan, but Ilya knows the truth.
There isn’t much to plan now.
Babies come when they want. Twins often come early. They’d be lucky to make it to thirty-eight weeks, even with the risk of Shane developing gestational diabetes and pre-eclampsia; issues that have been discussed at every appointment since the twenty-week mark.
“We should make the plan after they are here,” Ilya whispers, his gaze dropping down to Shane’s stomach: twenty-one weeks, nineteen weeks (maybe, probably less) to go.
Shane frowns, but he doesn’t argue. They both know the reality of this pregnancy. They weren’t making it to forty-one weeks like with Lev. They probably weren’t making it to thirty-eight weeks.
“Right. When they get here.” He murmurs, eyes drifting down to his stomach. One of the twins rolls this time, causing Shane to grimace.
His free hand slides up Shane’s back, under the loose hem of his shirt, thumb tracing the dip of his spine. Shane leans into it, body molding despite the barrier of his belly, a quiet sigh escaping as Ilya’s alpha pheromones thicken the air of their home.
“Lev’s asleep,” he whispers, voice rougher now. His eyes flutter as he darts his gaze up towards Ilya. “Anya seems pretty content to be watching the squirrels right now. I don’t think she’s gonna want to be let inside anytime soon.”
“Ah.” Ilya looks to the backyard where Anya now is, seated underneath one of the trees and staring up at a branch as if she may magically be able to jump up there and grab the squirrel herself. She might. Who was Ilya to stop her from achieving her dreams?
“So…” Shane smirks, head tilting towards the hall. “Bedroom? For our own nap?”
Ilya smirks back, wicked yet full of adoration. He rests his forehead on Shane’s, seeking in that sweet scent.
“Shane, are we going to nap?” he asks cheekily. “Or is it ‘nap’?” Ilya emphasizes the word with air quotes.
Shane laughs freely. Ilya sees that smile on his face, the one he fell in love with all those years ago, and falls back in love all over again. What he would do to see Shane smile nowadays. What he would do to hear that beautiful laughter every day again.
“I want an actual nap. Doesn’t your omega deserve a nap while carrying your daughters?” Shane jests before quickly kissing Ilya’s soft lips once more. And then a second. And a third.
He pulls back, just to breathe, and Ilya is smiling at him like he’s everything.
“Come with me.” Ilya brushes a thumb across Shane’s jaw. He leans in to kiss, lips lingering on Shane’s. “Let me take care of you, lyubimiy.”