Chapter Text
Shane and Ilya were no stranger to medical mishaps being professional hockey players. The hospital staff in Ottawa knew both of their names at this point due to the amount that they’d be in. And even outside of that, they were both notoriously terrible with recovery, especially Shane. He had managed to land himself in the hospital for improper recovery more times than he could count. Ilya literally had to beg him to stay in bed and rest because he would often refuse, insisting that he was ok to return to play (he was wrong).
Both of them had been working together over the years to become more honest with one another since their conversation in the cottage all those years ago, and while they’d made improvement in some areas, others still faltered. The main area in need of work was injuries and being honest about them. Both Ilya and Shane were also well-versed in the department of hiding injuries, not so much from their team (they almost never hid anything from their team doctor) but more so from each other. And again, Shane was particularly bad about this, both in and out of hockey. Sickness, sprains, bumps, or even broken bones were all things that Shane had ignored, kept from Ilya, or downplayed to the extreme, all in an attempt to calm Ilya down because he was “dealing with enough” despite the fact that he was completely fine with and desired to take care of Shane, just as Shane did for him.
Ilya had called this the “Hollander Hold” which was basically where Shane would put himself “on hold” to continue going about life. Phase one was ignore, phase two, keep it secret, and phase three, downplay. So, it was no surprise when one day, Shane had got home from a brand meeting with an awful burning sensation in his side and he decided to ignore it, hoping it would dull. And of course, he didn’t mention this to Ilya (even though Ilya would arguably like to have known).
It was some of the worst pain he had experienced. Shane had to excuse himself to the bathroom and clutch the wall, biting his fist as he felt tears well up in his eyes. His side felt like it was on fire.
“Long day?” Ilya noticed the discomfort in Shane’s face (he noticed everything about Shane), wrapping an arm around his waist and taking Shane’s bag in the other.
“Yea,” Shane leaned into his neck, “Really long day. Good, but long,” Shane let out a breath of relief. The burning feeling in his side was still agonizing, but it had managed to dull down slightly. He grit his teeth as he moved to ignore it.
Ilya tossed Shane’s bag to the side, backing up until Shane was pressed against the door, “I can fix that,” He took two fingers and tipped up Shane’s chin, their lips dangerously close together but not quite touching. Shane’s breathing picked up slightly, his hands tightening at the hem of Ilya’s shirt.
“Please,” Shane’s voice was no louder than a whisper.
“I can’t hear you, sweetheart. You’re going to need to be louder.”
Shane whined loudly, “Ilya, please, don’t tease me today.”
Ilya reached forward, pulling him impossibly closer, “Ok, ok. Very sorry. You know I like to hear you beg.”
“You’re not sorry.”
Ilya chuckled as kissed him, “No, am not.”
The two resumed their kiss intertwined with one another as they made their way to their shared bedroom. But as Ilya pushed him into the room and they began to strip themselves of their clothing, Shane felt it again, but this time worse. The burning feeling came back with a vengeance, almost like it was angry at Shane for dismissing it earlier. He tried desperately to ignore it, flashing a smirk at Ilya and sinking down to his knees. Shane tugged at Ilya’s sweatpants enthusiastically before he felt another sharp pang and his expression changed.
He felt like he couldn’t breathe. The burning sensation somehow managed to grow even worse and Shane nearly collapsed, clutching his side.
“Shane?!” Ilya immediately tugged his pants up and bent down, narrowly catching him. He slowly lifted Shane up off the floor and sat him on the bed next to him, “Solnyshko, talk to me. You’re phasing in and out, are you ok?”
Shane tried to open his mouth to talk, but found he was in too much pain to form more than a few words. The burning had stripped him of his ability to speak and that made Shane begin to panic.
“I got you, I got you moya lyubov, I have you right here,” Ilya said reassuringly, pulling Shane closer to him, “I will ask question. I see you struggle to talk right now. Can you squeeze my hand?”
Shane squeezed his hand a few times.
“Good. Good job. Squeeze once for yes and twice for no, ok?”
Shane squeezed once.
“Beautiful. Now I ask. Are you in pain?”
One squeeze.
“Can you talk at all? Is this quiet because of pain?”
One squeeze and then another spaced out.
“Ok, I am going to lie you down in our bed and get some water and tylenol, ok?”
Another squeeze.
Ilya left and returned fast with the painkillers and water, helping Shane sit up and take the meds. He climbed in beside him, holding Shane close. A few minutes later, the pain killers had seemed to process and while he was still weak, Shane found himself able to speak a little more.
“Welcome back, my love,” Ilya said, stroking his hair, “Now are you going to tell me what just happened? Was anxiety thing or did you hit something during practice and not tell?”
“N-not anxiety. Pain,” Shane managed to croak out, “Burning. Burning sensation in my side. Felt it earlier at my meeting but…but ignored it. Thought it went away.”
Ilya frowned, “So you put yourself on Hollander hold, huh?”
“Probably nothing. Just probably pulled something. Will be fine,” Shane curled slightly into Ilya a bit more, “Not mad?”
“Baby, why would I ever be mad at you for being in pain?”
“Ruined the mood.”
“You are in pain, Shane. I’m not making you continue if you are in pain,” Ilya stroked his hair, “Sleep?”
Shane nodded, tucking himself into Ilya’s side. The pain was still present and growing, but he figured that it might go away in the morning. Regardless, he couldn’t make this a big deal. Ilya was exhausted and he didn’t want to add that. He closed his eyes and attempted to get some kind of restful sleep. It would go away in the morning, everything would be fine, and he’d never have to think about this again.
He was wrong.