Chapter Text
“Hi, can I please get a ginger ale?”
Kyle looks up from where he's been drying the glass in his hand, smiling at the familiar face. “Hi, Shane,” he hums. “Coming right up, sweetie.”
“Thank you.”
There was a time when the pet names that roll off Kyle's tongue so naturally used to make Shane blush, but even he has got used to it.
“Just you tonight?” Kyle asks as he pours Shane's drink, his eyes darting around the bar that is now slowly filling up.
Shane slides onto one of the bar stools, nodding. “Just me.”
Kyle stops searching for Shane's boyfriend and places the glass in front of him, shaking his head as Shane holds up his card. “Don't worry about it.”
“Kyle-”
“I'll charge if you order alcohol, okay?”
Shane presses his lips together. “No,” he says. “Ed doesn't like it.”
Kyle swallows, instantly regretting his comment, momentarily at a loss for another.
He knows there's nothing he can really say, that no matter how often he's seen Shane and Ed come into the Kingfisher together and watched Ed completely disregard Shane despite his obvious social anxiety, it's none of Kyle's business.
But for a moment, he considers making it his business.
Because Shane's never come into the Kingfisher by himself, Kyle didn't even think he liked it, that he only came because of Ed.
Kyle's also often wondered if anyone else in Shane's life has ever told him what his relationship looks like from the outside.
Despite his usual way of having a quick remark ready at just about anything, Kyle isn't sure how he'd even approach someone as nervous and awkward as Shane about something like this.
Hey, I've watched your partner basically drag you into a bar you're clearly not comfortable in and then treat you like you're not even there. I've also seen him flirt with other guys at the bar, and potentially give one his number once.
However, Kyle is pretty sure that none of these things would surprise Shane. And he doesn't want to make him feel worse by pointing out how bad it looks from the outside, when it must already feel a million times worse on the inside.
Having tried to distract Shane whenever he's been able to, Kyle has come to feel somewhat protective of him. It's impossible not to, Shane is sweet, very smart, and he always genuinely cares about how Kyle is doing.
Plus, he tips him way too much.
As another man steps up to the bar, Kyle leaves Shane to himself for a moment, and mixes two cocktails, then pours two cokes for another couple before he returns to where he was drying glasses.
“How's your shift been?” Shane asks, both his hands wrapped around his glass.
“Quiet so far,” Kyle says, looking up over Shane's shoulder as another small group of guys enters the bar. “But I think it's getting busier.”
“Can I stay here?”
Kyle's eyes widen. “Yeah, of course,” he assures him. “I don't think anyone's gonna fight you for a seat the bar.”
Shane nods, evidently relieved, but his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Is Kip not here?”
“Not yet,” Kyle says. “You know Scott and him went away for the weekend? I told him I could cover the bar by myself until later, but he's coming.”
“Oh, right,” Shane nods.
“Don't you dare offer your help again,” Kyle laughs.
Shane's face flushes slightly. “I-”
“I know you mean well,” Kyle assures him quickly.
Suddenly, Shane looks surprised, but Kyle soon realizes it's nothing he's said, as Shane pulls his phone from the pocket of his jacket. “I... uh...” He looks around. “I'm going to take this outside, I think.”
Kyle nods. “I'll have another ginger ale ready for you.”
As Shane shifts from his seat and heads towards the door and Kyle watches him leave, the door already opens and another familiar face approaches the bar.
Kyle doesn't miss the way the tall man's head turns slightly as he passes Shane, curiosity, as well as something else flickering across his face before he's got both elbows planted on the top of the bar and Kyle has his full attention.
“Good evening, Kyle,” comes the exaggerated formal greeting in a thick Russian accent.
Kyle can't help but laugh. “Good evening, Ilya.”
Ilya smirks, then he looks over his shoulder for a moment as he stands straight. He takes a long breath before his eyes are on Kyle again. “Vodka, please,” he says.
“Double?” Kyle asks, already turning around to take the bottle from the wall behind him.
“Triple?” Ilya says. “Just fill glass you would use for coke with vodka.”
Kyle snorts. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I will drink slowly, I promise,” Ilya says. “I just don't want to keep ordering little shot glass.”
Kyle knows better than to argue at this point, so he just does as he is told and charges him for four shots. Though he's definitely giving him more.
“Thank you,” Ilya coos with an overly sweet smile, taking a sip. “Where is your sugar daddy?”
Kyle rolls his eyes, but he's smiling nonetheless. “Eric's in the back, just sorting some admin.”
Ilya grins, then his eyes wander to the half-empty glass of ginger ale on the bar. “Pretty boy is coming back, yes?”
Kyle's eyes widen in surprise. “You mean Shane?”
“That is his name?” Ilya asks. “Guy who just left on phone with...” He taps his fingertips against his own cheeks for a second. “How you say... spring spots?” He says something Russian under his breath.
Kyle laughs. “Freckles?”
“Yes!”
“Yeah, he'll be back, I think, but-” He stops, as he can see Shane walking back inside, and Kyle half-expects him to leave, but he simply looks at Ilya before returning to his seat.
Ilya follows Kyle's gaze, then Shane's movements before he leans back slightly, taking another sip of his vodka, still watching.
“Hello,” Shane mumbles quietly when he notices Ilya's eyes on him.
“Sorry, can we get six tequila shots?” someone asks from the other side of the bar, and Kyle walks over reluctantly, feeling somehow responsible for the potential mess that might unfold if he doesn't supervise.
He places six shot glasses on the bar, taking the bottle to pour, regretfully now too far away to overhear any possible conversation between Ilya and Shane.
Not only does he know Shane, how polite and shy, and taken he is, but he also knows Ilya, even though he's only moved to New York and started coming to the Kingfisher recently.
Almost every night, he's seen him leave with someone, sometimes with men, sometimes with women, one time with a straight couple. Kyle's not surprised. He might be married, but he's not blind – Ilya is very attractive, he's tall and handsome and clearly works out. And he's funny.
He tries to remember if he's ever seen him at the Kingfisher while Shane and Ed were there, too.
Once he's poured the shots and given the customer his change, he goes back to the other side of the bar, near Shane and Ilya, but not quite as close as before, simply close enough to listen.
“You always drink just this.”
As if to prove a point, Shane takes a sip from his ginger ale, eyes fixed on the condensation in the glass when he sets it back down. “Uh... yeah.”
So he has seen Shane here before.
“You don't like to have strong drink?” Ilya asks.
Shane glances up. “No, not really,” he says.
“But you come to bar anyway.”
Shane shrugs. “Usually with my boyfriend.”
Ilya's jaw tenses slightly, but the way he's neither surprised nor discouraged tells Kyle everything he needs to know – and makes him feel even more responsible.
“You don't like it?”
“I mean, I do,” Shane says quickly. “Sometimes it's just... too loud.”
Ilya nods slowly, taking another sip of vodka, shifting slightly closer to Shane.
Kyle lingers as he serves a young couple two beers, half-listening still.
He knows he shouldn't be worried. Shane can speak for himself – and he has. And Ilya, as much a smooth talker as he is visually irresistible, has never not backed off if someone he's approached expressed lack of interest or discomfort – even if just through their body language.
“So why did you come alone today?”
Shane blinks in surprise. “I... I'm not sure,” he says quietly. “But... my boyfriend just called.”
“Telling you not to drink?” he asks, tapping his fingers against Shane's glass.
Shane swallows. “I... um... he just prefers when I don't.”
Ilya watches, silent for a moment.
“That is only reason you have soft drink?”
“What?”
“You do this because he tells you?” Ilya asks. “Or because you don't want to?”
Kyle goes still, somehow relieved he isn't the only one who's noticed. Even though he didn't know Ilya was watching too.
“You are very polite person,” Ilya continues when Shane doesn't reply.
Shane huffs out a humorless laugh.
“You like when people make choices for you?”
Shane's grip tightens on his glass. “You don't know me.”
Kyle has watched Shane shut down before, even when he's been testing the waters on how far to comment on his boyfriend.
“No,” Ilya says, smiling, his tone unchanged. He takes another sip from his vodka. “But I have seen you.”
Shane has lowered his gaze, so he doesn't notice the way Ilya's smile grows wider as Shane's cheeks flush pink.
He shifts slighty on his stool. “Seen me do what?”
Ilya tilts his head. “You come in,” he says. “You sit next to your boyfriend and look at him like...” He smirks. “Like he is only person in room.”
Kyle busies himself drying another glass, staying close.
“But then you often sit alone,” Ilya continues. Then, he suddenly turns to Kyle. “Kyle, can you turn music down little bit?”
Kyle's eyes widen in surprise, but he reaches for the remote and lowers the volume slightly.
“Thank you, Kyle.”
Kyle can tell instantly that Shane and him are wondering the same thing.
Ilya doesn't allow it to linger. Instead, his fingers inch closer to Shane's glass. “I have never tried,” he says. “May I?”
Shane hesitates, but then he nods.
Ilya grins, then takes a small sip of ginger ale, humming, nodding as he considers it. “Mm,” he says. “Very sweet. But I like it. I see why you like it.” He pushes Shane's glass back towards him. “Will you let me buy you vodka ginger ale?” He looks from Shane to Kyle.
Kyle doesn't move, he's certain Shane is going to decline the offer.
Shane presses his lips together, then he nods. “You know what?” He takes a deep breath. “Why not? Sure.”
Kyle meets Ilya's gaze – understanding and surprise.
He watches as Ilya shifts even closer to Shane, and he can't help but notice the contrast of the way he's seen Ilya with others, charming, but assertive and confident – and how sweet he is with Shane now.
Ilya's arm moves slightly, and though Kyle can't see over the bar, the way Shane's cheeks darken and his breath hitches – he has no doubt Ilya's put his hand on Shane's leg.
Shane clears his throat. “I... um... I'm Shane, by the way,” he says, and Kyle knows Shane sees nothing weird with shaking Ilya's hand while his other hand rests on Shane's thigh. “Shane Hollander.”
The corner of Ilya's mouth twitches, and Kyle can practically hear the chants of victory in the Russian's head. “Hello, Shane Hollander,” he drawls. “I am Ilya.”