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Ilya chugged half of his bottle of water just to give himself something to do. His skates were laced, his pads were in place, his speech was done. It was a game like a hundred others, not even a playoff one, and yet he was restless. Someone else could have called it anxious. He didn’t, and hoped the feeling would lift when he finally stepped on the ice.

It wouldn’t, obviously, because the empty pit in his chest had been following him for weeks now. He had tried hiding the fact that he couldn’t sleep by staying out late at practice and parties. He had started buying less groceries so he wouldn’t have to face it going bad when he didn’t end up eating any of it. He had amped his dose of suppressants, and now scents didn’t make him nauseous, because he hardly could tell them apart. He had rarely been so out of touch with his alpha instincts, which was an unsettling feeling. His designation was one of the very few things that had ever made his father proud of him, and so he had leaned into this part of his identity early on in life. Ilya was an alpha, a real one, strong, dominant, desirable, with an unmistakable scent and an aura that made most people want to lower their head. He had learned to use that to his advantage, almost becoming a caricature of what he could be. And then, later, he had learned not to be, learned to reign it in and let himself be softer. His father hated it, of course, and considering where it got him, Ilya could be inclined to agree nowadays.

The Boston Bears walked out of the locker room behind their captain as silent as him, following his lead. It made them look focused and dangerous. The truth was more that Ilya had been brooding for long enough that they knew they didn’t want to risk his wrath. They took their place on the ice and started their warmup. Montreal’s ice. The place felt colder than Ilya usually found it. Soon enough, the opposite team would take its place on the other side of the rink. Ilya didn’t know how he would react when he saw him. Shane Hollander, captain of the Montreal Voyageurs, future hockey legend, boyfriend to Hollywood darling Rose Landry, and the omega who had broken his heart.

All his symptoms could be retraced back to that fateful day, when Ilya had invited him into his house, had invited him to stay longer, had invited him to his lap, had tried to scent him, had moaned his name. The day it all fell apart, and Sh- Hollander had rejected him. Ilya had thought that it would be okay, that they would find their way back to each other, because they always did, because their scents mixed so well together, because their bodies always connected before their minds could do anything about it. But a couple weeks later Hollander had been on the front page of every gossip rag in the country. The pain had been… manageable. Ilya was used to pain. But then he had seen them, really seen them, all over each other, in the dim lights of a club where he was telling himself he wasn’t put off by the perfume of the beautiful beta woman he was dancing with. It had really sunk in then, how he had lost his omega. And, at the same time, how part of him had considered Hollander his omega, despite every reason why he shouldn’t.

The whole debacle had brought him to unearth a new version of himself, one who pathetically practiced chirps in the mirror, because he was scared to end up speechless when Hollander’s eyes found his. He had never been the one to stay hung up after a break-up, and this wasn’t even a break-up! They had never been together! Shane hadn’t stayed in his sheets long enough to leave his scent behind! Sadly, his body didn’t understand any of that, and Ilya had been walking around with his shattered heart in his hands. That made his daily life ridiculously hard to manage.

Now Hollander was there, coming his way to get in place for the face off, he would soon be close enough to touch. And the last thing Ilya was allowed to do was touch him. He had never belonged to him less than in that moment, not in all the years since they had met. He bent his knees, and none of the words he had carefully put aside came up to his lips. He couldn’t even look at him. The referee probably thought it a relief that the famous rivals wouldn’t be at each other’s throat under his watchful gaze. Ilya’s eyes stayed on the ice, on the puck, barely grazing Hollander’s skates. He despised himself for that weakness.

Still, he won the face off. He won a lot, actually. Too much. Montreal was terrible, easy to rile up and to throw off balance. Hollander was off his game. It was like his team had expected it too, because his line wasn’t getting a lot of ice time, and when they did his teammates seemed to compensate for him. Trouble in the locker room? Ilya could only hope so. He tried not to think about it, because if he did he would have to think about the fact that she wasn’t there, which meant that his form could be linked to her presence, which would mean that their bond was much stronger than Ilya had thought. The kind of bond reserved for fated pair, the kind of bond which physically hurt when the other wasn’t near. Not that Ilya was thinking much about their bond, or the way that they could make it last forever in a couple bites.

Ilya always played better when Hollander was close, but he tried not to think about that either.

Ilya had not taken a full breath for a minute, scared that Hollander’s scent would grace his nose and he would drop to his knees. They were in place for the second period face off, and Ilya’s eyes were still stuck to the ice, shining like glitter under the lights of the arena.

“Are you scared, Rozanov?”

Hollander’s voice almost made him flinch. What the fuck was he talking for? And scared? Of what? Hollander had missed most passes; he wasn’t a threat in any way tonight. Unless Hollander had read him to filth and was alluding to the real reason Ilya was avoiding looking at him. No. He wasn’t that cruel. Ilya kept his head down, willing himself not to let it get into his head. He lost the face-off.

That failure didn’t end up being too important. Montreal still sucked. Hollander got even less ice time. Ilya had been avoiding Montreal’s games for a while now, barely sparing a look for the results here and there. Maybe he had been off for a while. Maybe it had nothing to do with Rose Landry, maybe Pike was hurt and it compromised their line, maybe, maybe, maybe… Ilya made himself insane trying to figure it out. It wasn’t like he had much else to do anyway. The best part about playing the other was the way they challenged each other like no one else. Playing Hollander was a thrill compared only to fucking him. Or at least it used to be. Now the Bears were far ahead, and Hollander was avoiding him. He was too slow, never where he was supposed to be, and much less aggressive than Ilya knew him to be. He had yet to be thrown into the boards by the Montrealer. One minute after the other, one missed opportunity after the other, it made Ilya angry. He was pretty sure you could feel it in his scent too, but that was good news. Anger was easier to explain than sadness, hurt, want, and all the things he was trying to keep shoved far, far down.

The second period ended without much fanfare, the Montreal fans almost quiet after forty minutes without even a good chance at a goal. Ilya gave his locker his usual boasting speech, their coach pretty much just told them to keep at it. It was about to be an ideal game for Boston, Ilya was the only affected one, of course. They got back on the ice with the confidence of a team about to have some fun.

And then they waited. And waited.

Players and fans alike were starting to lose their patience. The Montreal team was still in their locker. Knowing it was expected of him, Ilya skated up to the referee, holding his arms up to show the obvious issue around them. The ref kept him at arms’ length and signaled for him to stay calm. Which he was, very calm. He didn’t even really care. Theriault was spending too long tearing a new one to his stupid players, so what? He wouldn’t change the outcome of the game.

Finally, the Voyageurs showed up, under very loud complaints from even their own supporters. Ilya let himself look at Hollander then. He was beautiful, but then again he always was. However, his head was hanging low, his complexion was too pale. It seemed like the speeches in his locker room hadn’t been inspirational. Ilya got back into his position at center ice. Hollander joined him, slowly bending his knees. The chirps wrote themselves now, but Ilya couldn’t voice any of them. He couldn’t wait for this period to start, for this game to finish. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be far away from here. He wanted to grab Hollander’s jersey and punch him just for the chance to touch him.

It wasn’t the puck drop that got him out of his head; it was Hollander straightening up. Ilya blinked for a second, and then finally lifted his gaze. He looked up until he finally crossed Hollander’s eyes. He was pale, way too pale. He seemed unsteady on his skate. And he was… scared? Before Ilya could comprehend the look on his face, Shane’s eyes rolled back into his skull, and he promptly passed out.

The Montreal Voyageurs statement was dry and to the point. Shane Hollander, trusted captain of the team, was sick and they wished him a speedy recovery. Ilya shouldn’t even have bothered to read it, but now he had trouble not thinking about it. It made a lot of sense for someone with Hollander’s sense of duty to play sick. Ilya shouldn’t have been mulling that over. But Hollander hadn’t smelled sick. Ilya couldn’t find in either of his languages a way to explain what he had smelled like, except off, but if the omega had had a fever, or anything of the sort, Ilya would have known. He couldn’t pinpoint what, but something was wrong. He tried to forget it, to ignore the burning itch to reach out, he tried to pretend he wasn’t worried. He tried even harder to muzzle his instincts, the ones screaming at him to go and help, protect, take care of his omega. He tried to drown how much he missed him with alcohol. He tried to push Hollander’s entire existence away from his mind, but he had never been the lucky type.

At some point, someone had said something they shouldn’t have to someone who couldn’t be trusted. The rumor was everywhere before the sun had risen the next day. It had easily made its way to the Bears locker room.

“Did you hear about Hollander?” Carmichael’s voice was tinged with laughter.

“Hear what?” Johansson asked.

Everyone was curious about Shane Hollander as a baseline. Nowadays, it was like Ilya’s obsession had infected the entire NHL. Most players had looked up at the mention of his name, the others were just trying to be discreet. Ilya was one of those.

“I heard,” Saint-Simon chimed in, “but it sounds like a load of bullshit.”

Ilya wanted to claw their faces off to make them spill. He stayed as still as possible.

“It’s not,” Carmichael insisted, clearly trying to create some sort of effect. “Sarah is still friends with some of the WAGs from Colombus, and one of them is with a guy who was traded to Montreal last year, she says their whole team and staff is fuming.”

He had the whole locker room hanging from his lips.

“So what the fuck is up with Hollander? For those of us who have better things to do than gossip with our wives?” Marlow finally broke.

“Don’t pretend you’re not just jealous because you’re a single fucker,” Connors laughed. “You’re the worst gossip here.”

“Whatever, shut up,” Saint-Simon cut them off before turning to Carmichael. “So it’s actually true?”

Ilya felt like he was going to explode.

“Yeah. Hollander got a leave of absence for an undisclosed period of time. It’s what their coach said.”

“Fuck, so he’s really sick?” Marlow asked, almost empathetic.

Carmichael laughed. “Yes, really, really sick.”

That didn’t seem to be the right tone to say this kind of sentence. Ilya’s heart was beating way too fast. He wanted to bolt out of the room and run to Montreal. He gripped the bench he was sitting on instead.

“Don’t laugh about that shit man.” Hammersmith berated him.

“No, no, you don’t get it; it’s not like I’m laughing about him getting cancer of something,” he explained.

“What is it then?” Ilya couldn’t have stopped himself if he had tried. Carmichael looked straight at him with a smile.

“The first omega of professional hockey has rejection sickness.”

Ilya could almost feel the words ricochet along the wall and inside his ribcage. A weighted silence fell over the room. Ilya could barely breathe. Rejection sickness.

“You’re kidding?” Marlow asked.

“No man I swear it’s true. Montreal is pissed.”

“Pissed at him?”

“Yeah, mad he couldn’t get his omega hormones in check and now it’s ruining their chances at the Cup.”

Carmichael was laughing, at Montreal or Shane’s expanse, Ilya didn’t know. He wanted to punch him all the same. Punch him and remind everyone that Montreal would barely be a team without the omega, not a serious contender for the Cup anyway.

“It was bound to happen eventually,” one of the older defensemen, who had been pretending not to listen in, finally spoke up.

“What do you mean?” Marlow asked.

“I mean everybody always knew that he was a liability. It could be that or a pregnancy or him dropping to his knees on the ice because one of us looked at him too long, you know what omegas are like.”

Ilya felt a growl start low in his chest. Luckily, he wasn’t the only offended one.

“Hey, most of us are married to omegas, don’t start with those stereotypes,” Saint-Simon chastised.

“Don’t pretend like I’m wrong, it’s different with omega men, you all know it.”

The locker room erupted when everyone started giving their own opinion, or chirping Saint-Simon for being a wife guy, or the older players for being too close-minded. Everyone except Ilya, of course, and Cliff, who was sitting next to him.

“It’s weird though,” he muttered.

Ilya was the only one who heard, and so he felt like he had to answer.

“What is?”

“The rejection sickness. Isn’t he dating someone officially for the first time in forever? He very publicly did not get rejected. We all saw it.”

“But they’re both like, all over the world all the time,” Connors chimed in.

“And so what?”

“Well they probably don’t see each other a lot, right? When Callie was pregnant, our instincts were all over the place. She got really clingy and when we had to leave for roadies she’d cry for hours, and when we were on the phone she used to tell me how it physically hurt to be apart.”

“You think Hollander is pregnant?!” Cliff exclaimed.

“No! I think the pregnancy is the only thing that helped Callie. I’m saying if their bond is strong enough, her absence could maybe trigger that?”

Here it was. The thing Ilya’s brain had been circling even though he refused to think about it. Shane Hollander loved Rose Landry so much his body was harming itself in the hopes of getting her attention.

At the core of it was just biology. An omega could want to appear smaller, weaker, needier, so their alpha would feel compelled to protect them. Rejection sickness made that impossible to avoid. It was a last resort for a body not getting what it needed from a mate, a hail mary, a way to trigger someone’s else’s instincts. It wasn’t something anyone could control. From what Ilya knew, it really fucking sucked, because there was not much to do if the alpha wasn’t interested in fixing it. Another alpha could help, but there was no guarantee. The omega was mostly expected to wait it out while their family had to make sure they didn’t let themselves wither away. It was, technically, something you could die from, but it didn’t happen much in the modern world. Hospitals knew what to do, if the omega had any will to keep living.

Lucky for Hollander, he wouldn’t have that problem. Landry was probably in his nest already, showering him with reassurance and love. He would be back on the ice in no time. Ilya got up and left the locker room to go puke in the attending bathroom.

As foretold by the Bears locker room, Hollander’s name was dragged in the mud by most media in the following weeks. It was deemed unacceptable to abandon his team like this. It became even worse when the Voyageurs struggled to make it to the playoffs. A lot of conservative voices rose up to underline how this was proof that omegas didn’t belong in professional sports. Omega activists on the other hand used him as an example of societies' failings towards their secondary gender. Hollander probably hated both of those discussions, but he remained politely silent about all of it. Or maybe he was too sick to answer any media. Or too busy with is alpha girlfriend (mate?).

Either way, that silence was torture for Ilya. Not knowing if Hollander was okay made his instincts go haywire. He wouldn’t be able to say how many times he had opened his text thread with “Jane” to reach out. He had erased every message, every time. This wasn’t his place. His worry wasn’t welcome. His deep-rooted needs to protect and comfort weren’t welcome. He was an inconsequential mistake in Hollander’s otherwise perfect life. He was the past. She was his future.

He kept wondering if she had bitten him already. Worse, he pictured it. Interlaced in Shane’s nest, the neatest and most efficiently comfortable anyone had ever made, they would responsibly talk about it for hours, hands wandering, because Ilya knew how tactile Hollander was. He could see her perfect hair on the pillow like a halo. He could picture his shy smile. Soft, at ease, safe. He couldn’t decide if this image or the one of a love sick Shane was worse. Still they battled in his mind to torture him, but he was getting used to the pain again.

He was lounging on his couch as the sun was setting, face lit up by his phone screen, eyes on Jane’s name, desperate words at the tip of his fingers, when the notification came in.

BIG BEARS ONLY🐻🏒🏋️: yoooo guys the cup is ours this year!!

There was an image attached. One Ilya took a second to understand, but once he did he was standing up, rage boiling inside so fast he let out a growl. There on his screen was Rose Landry, a miracle in itself since she had been extremely discreet ever since Hollander’s break announcement. Ilya knew then that what he wanted above anything was to know that Shane was safe, happy, healthy, even if he never belonged to Ilya in any way ever again. Because the paparazzi picture clearly showed Rose having a relaxing beach day, arms around the neck of someone who definitely wasn’t Hollander, his own hands cozy on her hips. He wanted to destroy her. She had been handed Hollander’s precious heart and had toyed with it just long enough to get him hooked before moving on. Leaving him alone, heartbroken, rejected. Ilya had never hated a person that much.

He threw his phone across the room with a roar.

Surprising everyone but Ilya, the cup wasn’t theirs that year. Boston got eliminated in the first round of the playoffs, greatly aided by the poor performance of their captain and star player. Their only comfort came from the fact that Montreal hadn’t made it to the second round either. Ilya had retreated to his dark apartment, telling himself that he needed to isolate himself in order to get over the humiliating loss. He ignored his teammates, he ignored the team staff, he ignored booty calls, he ignored Sveta, he ignored the plane to Moscow he would have to be on in a few weeks. All he wanted was to stay in the dark, drink, sleep it off, repeat. He didn’t have the energy for much else anyway. He was always tired, always grumpy, and his body didn’t seem to be able to let go of the soreness of the season.

It was a little past midnight when he decided, or more precisely finally allowed himself, to go down a rabbit hole about rejection sickness. A condition mostly associated with omegas, as they usually suffered the worst symptoms, but he learned that any secondary gender could be affected. Symptoms usually started with sleep related disorders, which tired the body and mind enough for other afflictions. All organs could start malfunctioning in different ways, some more dangerous than others. The trickiest part was how it affected someone’s mental state. The usual route was a depression so deep that the body gave up on trying to fix itself. Medication could help keep the physical symptoms at bay, therapy was encouraged, but, truly, the affection of a mate was the only real cure.

Every line of every article triggered Ilya’s imagination. Was Shane getting more irascible, or amorphous? Did his family manage to make him eat enough? Had he lost interest in hockey? Would he want to keep going despite Rose clearly not being interested in fixing what was wrong with him?

How could Ilya help him?

In the end, it was the only question on his mind. It was the only thing he could think of. He wanted to help. Desperately. He wanted to make sure Shane was in his nest, wearing comfy clothes scented by his friends and family, a reminder of all the people who loved him. He wanted to make him three full meals and a few snacks every day. He wanted to watch hockey games and bad movies with him on the couch while kissing his scent glands and holding him close. He wanted proof of life. He wanted to see him get better. He could get none of that, of course. But he opened a new tab and started a new search.

A few days later, the result of his late night induced temporary insanity showed up at his door. As it turned out, there were hundreds of websites dedicated to selling articles to make an omega’s life easier. Blankets, pillows, specific clothes and foods and water bottles. It was dizzying. Ilya had gotten a bit of everything. He couldn’t even explain why, except for the part when the “add to cart” button had given him some solace every time he had pressed it, like a balm on his burning heart. It was the illusion of being able to do something that had helped him finally fall asleep in the early hours of the day. Now he had to shamefully face the delivery man and store all of this useless crap. Boxes and boxes and boxes of soft materials that would never be used. Unless…

Hollander’s sickness was public knowledge at this point. A rumor universally accepted despite never being confirmed. It would make sense for some of his fans to want to help, right? He could surely find a way to send it all anonymously. That would be enough to quiet his instincts, especially since he would never have to know if Hollander had rejected the delivery. Feeling some sort of relief for the first time ever since Hollander crossed the threshold of his Boston home, Ilya looked for some more information online. He could send it anonymously! Now there was the just the question of where… surely not to Hollander’s sex dungeon, which had probably been sold anyway. It wasn’t like he needed to hide Rose Landry there.

It didn’t stay a question for long. Ilya knew that his own address was on the internet somewhere, privacy having been left in the previous century. He found Hollander’s address pretty easily. He hadn’t anticipated the shiver he felt when he saw the words on his screen. Shane was there. Tucked away and safe. Out of touch… but within driving distance. Ilya, on the other hand, had a car and a loosening grip on the value of his dignity.

He parked down the road, and only then did he consider that it was maybe a terrible idea. He had packed his clothes and the boxes on autopilot, and then just followed his GPS north for five hours. Now he was sitting in his car, wondering if he should forget about walking the last hundred meters and simply go back the way he came. Somewhere along the border he had had to admit that it wasn’t just instincts that were pushing him to be this reckless. It wasn’t just the hormone-addled alpha brain, it was all of him. Every single part of his body and soul wanted to be closer to Holl-… Fuck. To Shane. He wanted to be closer to Shane. He wanted to take care of Shane. He wanted it so much he realized it didn’t matter if he got his heart broken a second time, he just had to see him alive and on his feet.

He got out of the car and walked up to the building like a convicted man to the gallows.

He wasn’t prepared for anything, obviously, and he was so obsessed with the idea of Shane that he hadn’t envisioned that someone else could be opening the door when he knocked. That’s how he ended up face to face with a very confused Hayden Pike. Ilya saw his eyes go impossibly round in an exact mirror of his. They stayed silent for a couple of interminable seconds.

“What the fuck?” Pike finally said.

“Hello to you too,” Ilya scoffed, aiming for nonchalance.

“What. The. Fuck,” Pike insisted and, in a way, Ilya could understand him, but he couldn’t let that transpire.

“Polite thing to do is to let me in you know?”

“Absolutely not. What are you… Are you here to- to gloat or… What the fuck Rozanov?”

Ilya was getting worried that he was breaking Pike’s brain indefinitely, so he tried to come up with a convincing lie, for the sake of Pike’s kids. “I was… around.” Great start. “And I thought it would be polite… I heard about Hollander’s… thing.” Smooth. “As a fellow captain, I thought I could… come and wish him well.” Perfect. Made sense from start to end.

Pike’s face did something complicated, confusion mixing with disbelief. His polite Canadian upbringing ended up winning the internal argument. “Thank… you?”

The words seemed foreign in his mouth when directed at Ilya. They looked like two aliens making contact for the first time.

“So can I… come and wish him well?” Ilya gestured embarrassingly towards the inside of the place.

That seemed to wake Hayden up from his daze. “Oh no, sorry he’s… sleeping.” Ilya didn’t miss his hesitation. “I’ll pass the message along.”

That simply wouldn’t do.

“I can come back later. Or… maybe you tell me how I could help?” He had to repress a shudder at the awkwardness.

“No, no, we’re good, no worries, I’ll tell him. Thanks for… stopping by. Great sportsmanship. Great work. That’s great.”

Pike was closing the door as he was rambling. That couldn’t happen, not so close to his goal, not when he had already risked so much. He raised up his arm to put it against the door and was about to shove his foot in the doorframe when-

“Il- Rozanov?”

They both froze. Pike like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t do, and Ilya because Shane was there, Shane was standing there, a couple meters behind his friend, looking like.. like…

“Shane! You’re out of bed!” Pike exclaimed, letting go of the door to turn towards him. There was too much surprise in his voice, too much glee. “I mean, hey buddy,” he tried to course correct.

“I- yeah. I heard…” His eyes were glued to Ilya’s face, like he was struggling to take him in. “I heard your voice. I mean… voices.”

Ilya clenched his jaw. Shane looked smaller, probably in part because of some weight loss, but also in part because of the way he was carrying himself. Nonsensically, Ilya wanted to run to him and shield him from Pike. Shane made half a step in his direction, letting out a small trill. Ilya prayed that his pheromones weren’t too out of sorts. He hadn’t taken his suppressants in a few days, so praying was all he could do.

“Rozanov… is here,” Pike sort of explained, still standing between them, eyes on Shane. “For some reason.”

“Hi,” was all Shane said.

“Hi,” Ilya answered, voice tight. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to say… Get well soon… Hollander.”

Pike’s head was going back and forth between them, but Shane and Ilya couldn’t look away from each other.

“That’s nice,” Shane almost smiled, but it was too stilted.

Ilya hated that he was too far for him to smell. He had no idea what was going on in his head, which he wasn’t used to, anymore. Despite how careful they had been, Ilya knew Shane, and how to read him. or at least he had known.

“Do you… You are okay? You need anything?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Shane opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He shook his head in a way that meant neither yes or no. Maybe he was just as lost as Ilya. They were at a standstill, and Ilya needed something to happen or he would implode. He made a step towards the inside of the penthouse. Shane’s shoulders tensed, but he also leaned towards the door. Pike shifted so he would be standing between them more obviously.

“Shane,” he said, and both of them looked at him for the first time in a long while. He seemed agitated. “If you want me to kick him out and barricade us, just say the word.” He sounded surer of himself now, as if at least antagonizing Ilya was familiar territory. “But…” he added, marking a pause to glance at Ilya before turning back to his best friend. “If you want me to leave, you also just have to say it.”

Ilya froze again. Pike had understood… something. Maybe because of Ilya’s scent next to him, or because of the way Shane kept surreptitiously moving toward them. Ilya’s heart was hammering against his ribs. His entire existence was in Shane’s hands now. But then again maybe it had been for a while.

“Maybe you can… take a walk?” Shane offered, and Ilya felt a weight lift off his chest.

Pike looked between them once more. “Okay?” He seemed to come to a conclusion. “Okay,” he repeated and moved away to grab something from the console in the entryway. His car keys. “If you need anything or… just text me.”

“Of course, yeah,” Shane nodded.

Pike turned around to leave, and his eyes crossed Ilya’s. He read there all the worry Pike felt, and all the threats he couldn’t voice. Ilya just nodded one, hoping to offer some reassurance. Pike sighed, and made his way out. And just like that, Ilya and Shane were left alone.

Shane wasn’t saying anything. Ilya wanted to push him against a wall, safe from the rest of the world, and scent him, but he knew this wouldn’t be received well. Instead, he gave his hands something to do and closed the door before leaning against it, gripping the doorknob like it could keep him from crawling to the omega’s feet.

“Do you-” Shane started.

“I know I’m-” Ilya said at the same time.

They both stopped and looked at each other, deer and headlight all at once.

“Sorry, you go,” Shane insisted.

It wasn’t like Ilya was in any place to refuse him anything, but the words stayed stuck in his throat for a second. There were no right ones, so he just tried.

“I have heard that you are… unwell. I wanted to see… tell you to get better.” He had never hated the English language that much. He couldn’t make sense of his jumbled thoughts.

“That’s nice,” Shane answered, rightfully still confused.

“Pike has been helping?” he asked, like a coward. He needed to know, before making even more of a fool of himself. Because clearly, Pike had been helping, now Ilya had to find out how much.

“Yeah, the…” Shane cleared his throat. “My parents have been over a lot but it’s just… and they have their own life. I felt guilty and I didn’t like seeing them worry so… The team has been trying to act more like a pack, but it doesn’t come that naturally to us I guess. So Hayden is around a lot.”

“That’s… good. That you’re not alone.”

“Yeah.”

The conversation dwindled into an awkward pause. One of them had to be brave now.

“Why are you here?” Shane whispered. He seemed so frail, like Ilya had never seen. He was so far from the strong-willed, powerful, muscular omega Ilya had… fallen in love with. Now it was his turn to be brave, if only to give himself a chance to see his love on the ice again someday.

“I thought… if maybe you need help I could… I want to help.”

“Help?”

“Internet said it helps with the sickness if an alpha takes care of the omega, and, look, I know I’m not the right alpha but-”

“The right alpha?” Shane’s voice broke in the middle of his question.

“I am not Rose Landry,” Ilya said and her name was a poison to him like she was to Shane, “but I am an alpha and I-”

“I don’t want Rose,” Shane scoffed, in disbelief.

That stopped Ilya. “You… no? You… you met someone else?”

Shane crossed his arm, and Ilya could see that he was frowning even though he was looking down. “No, I- Maybe… maybe you should just leave.”

“What? Hollander, no, I can help you!” Ilya hated how desperate he sounded. Wasn’t he good enough? Even for this? Did Shane despise him that much, that he would rather keep suffering? “Does… Is this person coming for you?”

“No, I just… I really need you to leave.”

Ilya could hear the tears in his voice. There was something there escaping him, he could tell, some missing piece. He walked closer, selfishly, thinking Shane’s scent could help him figure it out and, really, incapable of staying away any longer. He was almost close enough to touch when Shane finally moved, and pushed him away with a hiss. Ilya took the warning for what it was and put his hands up in surrender. However, the movement seemed to have been too much for Shane’s body. Ilya caught him just as his knees gave out from under him.

“Hollander what the fuck?” was all he managed to say, caught between the rush of holding him and the panic of seeing him go down.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, fuck,” Shane mumbled. He didn’t push Ilya away again, and even leaned into him just a little. He was like deadweight in the alpha’s arms. Ilya selfishly held him closer, the closeness settling him for a second, as he tried to pick something from Shane’s scent. There was pain, sadness, anger, and underneath…

“You are starving,” Ilya concluded. “When is the last time you ate something?”

Shane moved away from Ilya’s embrace then, but the alpha couldn’t help but let his hands hover. “It’s okay, I’ll have something.”

Ilya’s instincts didn’t give him a choice this time. “Yes, you will,” he declared, and moved around Shane to get to the kitchen.

“Where are you… What the fuck Rozanov?”

Ilya had started opening the cupboards, looking for something easy to make. He would take care of his omega, even if said omega wasn’t his, even if he wanted him gone. Ilya simply couldn’t leave him in this state.

“If I make something, you will eat it?” Ilya asked, terrified of the answer, eyes on the counter, back towards Shane.

It was a silent plea. Let me provide for you, let me take care of you, let me help. He had tried it once, and Shane had accepted the food, and every atom of Ilya’s alpha body had sung with joy. He would go through the heartbreak again if it meant leaving behind a stronger, healthier omega. The silence stretched out; Ilya’s shoulders tensed.

“Yes,” finally came Shane’s voice.

Ilya nodded, took a deep breath, and got to work. He heard Shane sitting down at the counter behind him, and they stayed like this, in silence, until Ilya put down a plate and a glass of water in front of Shane.

“Thanks.”

“Please eat,” Ilya said.

Shane obeyed, and Ilya watched as he did. Shane ate slowly, in small bites, sometimes taking a few seconds to breathe in between them. He never looked up at Ilya; Ilya never looked away. They stayed silent, both incapable of putting any feeling into words; there were just too much of them.

“Better?” Ilya asked when Shane was done.

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“You smelled like you were starving,” Ilya pointed, and Shane shrugged.

“It’s been hard to eat lately, I’m just… never hungry.”

He still smelled like a lot of pain, but there was something sweeter now. Ilya wanted to preen at the thought that his omega’s belly was full, and that it brought him some comfort.

“You should sleep, you look very tired зайчикlittle bunny,” Ilya said, and the pet name escaped him.

Lucky for him, Shane was too out of it to ask about it. “Right, maybe, but you-”

“Where is your nest?”

Shane froze, and Ilya regretted the question immediately. It wasn’t his place to know, and probably felt like a huge intrusion.

“I just want to make sure you don’t pass out on the way, I won’t go in,” he clarified quickly. “I’ll bring you, and then I’ll leave.”

“No, I know, it’s just… I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a nest? Why? You should make one.”

“You want me to?” Shane asked, and Ilya could tell that he was taken aback at his own question. Still, he saw the door of the omega’s trust opening, and ran through it. He tried not to think about Shane’s desire to obey and please an alpha, and who could profit from it.

“It would help you sleep, I think.”

“I just don’t really… I’ve never really made one. When I was way younger, maybe. I slept with a lot of pillows as a kid but…” He was rambling, and Ilya could tell how nervous the subject made him.

“Maybe you can try, and if you hate it just go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m not sure how…”

“Just get soft things and let…” He gestured vaguely towards Shane’s chest. “Your instincts… do the job.”

“Right, sure.”

Shane’s instincts had probably been strangers sleeping deep down in his core until his omega side decided to make him love sick, and so he seemed very lost. Still, Shane Hollander wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, so he got up, and went to his living room. There, he grabbed what probably was Pike’s sweater, a blanket, a couple pillows. He then promptly handed all that to Ilya, who was hovering behind him.

“Since you want to be helpful so bad,” he mumbled grumpily.

Ilya simply took it all and bit back a smile. Shane grabbed two bags which were waiting by the couch and led Ilya towards his bedroom. When he dumped the bags on his bed, Ilya got a whiff of something that just screamed ‘Montreal Voyageurs’ to him. He supposed that mix could be reassuring to Shane, but it just irritated Ilya’s nose. Shane moved things around a little, and Ilya stood there awkwardly, arms full, conscious that it was way too intimate to watch an omega nest, but incapable of walking away. In any other context, he would have been out of his mind with lust. Now he just watched Shane walk from his bed to his bathroom, then closet, and back, with a heart full at the thought that he would feel better soon. There were smells he couldn’t recognize, maybe from wags or Shane’s parents, but one of them stood out, and made him whine. Shane turned towards him like he had forgotten that he was there.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing, keep going.”

“No, why did you…” he looked down at the shirt he was holding. Ilya’s nose twitched. It smelled flowery and feminine. It struck Ilya then. It was hers. He didn’t even know her smell, but he was sure of it. Shane looked between the affronting shirt and Ilya before putting it in a discarded pile besides the bed. Ilya could breathe a little easier then.

Shane kept fussing and rearranging, and soon enough Ilya’s arms were empty and Shane’s bed was adorned with a beautiful nest. Probably a bit small, as Shane didn’t have a lot of materials, and Ilya wasn’t insane enough to bring up his full trunk. Not that Ilya had known many nests he could compare it with, but it made him want to beg permission to enter, and smelled mostly like Shane, so that was a ten out of ten in his books. Shane, however, was still moving things, still frowning. He ended up standing at the foot of the bed, glaring, when he should have been rolling around and dripping the whole thing in happy pheromones. Ilya couldn’t help but take a step towards him, but he did keep his hands to himself, even if it killed him to do so.

“What is it?”

“Something’s missing,” Shane stated, voice sure and steady.

“Is it…” Ilya looked at the pile of things Shane had decided not to use. “Is it her scent?” He couldn’t bring himself to say her name, it would have felt like summoning her.

“No, if you…” Shane stopped himself. “I don’t need it. It’s fine, just forget it,” he said, but he was still glaring.

“No, no, no, not fine. It’s very important that you feel at ease, yes? It’s supposed to be a… safe place. Only way for it to work is if you find it perfect.”

“Right. I guess there is…” He seemed lost in thought. Hope sparked in Ilya’s chest. Maybe his scent could help. Maybe it was what Shane needed. He had packed a small suitcase; along with everything he had bought online, maybe he could find a way to bring a thing or two here. The thought alone made his heart race.

“There is…” Shane started shyly. “There’s a blanket I really love,” he said and indicated where he would like to put it. “But it’s at the cottage, so…”

“Oh.” Ilya tried not to let his disappointment show. “Do you think Pike would drive you there? Or your parents could bring it?”

Shane finally turned around and looked at Ilya. He was blushing. “Actually… Would you come with me?”

“To… to your cottage?” Ilya’s heart was racing.

“Fuck, no, forget it, it’s hours away, I’m being ridiculous. I haven’t wanted anything in weeks, it’s making me crazy.”

“No, no, you’re not crazy. We can go. We’re going.”

“Now?”

“Do you want to go now?”

Shane took a second to look around. Then, he nodded, and Ilya saw something he didn’t think he would ever witness again. Shane smiled at him.

It didn’t take them long to pack, Shane undoing his nest and putting it all in a suitcase while Ilya raided his kitchen. It was surprisingly full, considering Shane didn’t seem to be eating a lot. But maybe that was why, and Ilya could tell things had been prepped with care and attention by a wide array of people. Ilya insisted on taking his car, and on being the one to fill it with Shane’s things, which all went to the back seat. His trunk was full to the brim with shipment boxes (which was also why he had brought his most normal and practical car) and he wasn’t ready to leave them behind. He made an excuse about leaving Shane’s car safe in his building’s parking lot, and was lucky that the omega was too distracted by trying to formulate a text to his best friend to argue.

“Is he going to be mad?” Ilya asked as they settled in the car, even though he was scared that Shane would come to his senses if the answer was yes.

“No, not really. He’s been mad that I haven’t been getting better.” When Ilya frowned, he added: “Mad that he couldn’t do anything, I mean. Like… powerless. Not mad at me. So if I tell him something helps he’ll do anything to let me have it.”

“And I… I help?”

Shane didn’t answer for a second. “I told him I ate a full plate and he has stopped using your name as an insult.”

Ilya snorted. That was worth something. Shane’s phone lit up with an incoming text, and he redirected his attention towards it. Ilya only let himself look at him for a couple seconds before he started the engine.

It was strangely familiar to be in the same car, even though, Ilya realized a little after they had left the city, they had never been. There were so many normal everyday things they had never done together, and most likely would never do once Shane was healthy again. Ilya would have to soak in every millisecond of the next few hours (days? He wasn’t brave enough to ask), and live with the memories close to his chest forever, only bringing them out on bad days to remember his life had been worth living. He could tell that Shane was fighting sleep, and he couldn’t help the warmth in his chest at the realization that Shane felt safe enough in his car to even want to sleep. He told him to put his address in Ilya’s phone and let himself doze off. Shane obeyed. For the rest of the trip, Ilya’s anxiety and instincts were finally silent. Shane was here, Shane was okay.

The word ‘cottage’ felt wrong even to Ilya’s Russian ears. He realized as he parked in front of the mansion that he could hardly see its whole shape, hidden behind trees as it was. Shane woke up as the car came to a stop. Ilya couldn’t help but look at him stir and stretch. He barely held back from brushing a hand through his hair to put it back in place. It was longer, messier, and really suited him. But that would have been too close to grooming, and Ilya didn’t feel like getting his hand bit off.

They got out of the car, Ilya insisting on carrying Shane’s bags while Shane went to unlock the door.

“It might be a bit dusty,” Shane said. “I usually spend the first day here just cleaning everything but… aren’t you coming in?”

Ilya was frozen on the doorstep, hairs rising on his arms, instincts going haywire.

“I… you…” was all he managed to say. His hands tightened on the handle of Shane’s bags.

Shane, on the other side of the doorframe, was looking at him like he had lost his mind. Maybe he had. “Is everything alright?” the omega asked.

“Shane,” Ilya whined, the first name escaping him, but he couldn’t remember to panic about it. “This is… This place… it’s your nest.”

Shane frowned. “No, I’ve never made a nest here either.”

“No, it… it just is. The whole place. Can’t you smell it?”

“Smell what?”

Ilya inhaled and his mouth filled with saliva. “You. Happy, relaxed, all your happy pheromones in one place. You only smell like this when I…” He cut himself off and swallowed. “How many people have been here?”

“Huh, my parents, once or twice, but mostly I stay here alone, it’s where…” He trailed off and looked around like he was discovering the place. “It’s where I come when I need a break.”

“I can’t…” Ilya handed him the bags. “I cannot come in.”

“Yes you can,” Shane laughed, but it was a little tense.

Ilya shuddered. “No, no, you do not know what you are saying. I take one step inside and you will hate it, I promise.”

Just because Shane wasn’t aware of his omega side and how it could hurt him didn’t mean that it would be right for Ilya to take advantage of it. It didn’t matter how delicious the place smelled, or how much it made him want to bite Shane. Everywhere. Distantly, he became aware that this place would haunt his fantasies for the rest of his life, all the dirty ones, sure, but all the ones where Shane and him cuddled up on a couch to unwind and cuddle after a long day. The ones where they wore matching sets of pajamas.

They were standing still on each side of the door like any movement could make the world implode. In the end, Shane decided that words could also do the trick.

“Just come in.”

“I can’t.”

“I want you to.”

This made a shiver run all the way up Ilya’s back.

“I’m just saying,” Shane insisted, “if you want to come in, you can.”

“You do not know what you are saying.”

Shane frowned. “I’m not that helpless. You’re saying this is my nest, okay, fine, I’m inviting you in.”

Ilya wanted to drop to his knees and crawl inside to fall at Shane’s feet belly up. Instead, he sabotaged himself.

“Won’t it make it worse to have the wrong alpha in your nest?”

It was for the best. If Ilya walked in, he couldn’t be trusted to walk out without needing to be dragged out. He wanted it too much, it was dangerous.

“Ilya…” Shane said, and it hit Ilya like a puck to the chest. “Look at me.”

For once, it was Ilya who was evading his gaze. He bit the inside of his cheeks and looked up, face carefully blank.

“I think I’ll only be able to say this once, and then you can make your choice. Whatever it is, I’ll respect it, okay? If you need to get back in your car and leave, I get it.”

“Say what, Hollander?” Ilya said, fighting the urge to put a hand against his chest to make sure his heart wasn’t about to break through is ribcage.

“It wouldn’t be the wrong alpha.” Shane visibly swallowed. His eyes were shining. “If you came in… it wouldn’t be the wrong alpha.”

Ilya shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do. You know. You must know.” He let himself fall against the open door like he needed help staying upright.

Ilya took a step in his direction. “You’re wrong. It’s not me. I didn’t… You left me.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He almost raised his hand towards Ilya, but let it fall just as fast. “I’m not saying it makes sense.”

“I didn’t reject you, Hollander.” He was so full of emotions that his voice sounded cold. “I invited you into my den, I cooked for you, I… I…”

“I know. It’s not… It’s all my fault. Can we… can we sit down?”

“I can’t come in,” Ilya answered. For some reason, he couldn’t repress his instincts this time. He couldn’t make himself walk over the threshold.

Shane just sighed and sat down on the doormat. “Sorry, I’m just really tired, and being here makes me sleepy. Fuck. You’re right. This is a nest.”

He put his head in his hands; Ilya joined him on the floor, still outside.

“I don’t understand, Hollander. You were with someone else, I was never your alpha.”

“Of course you were!” Shane snapped. “Fuck, sorry, this is all coming out wrong.” He took a few deep breaths and locked eyes with Ilya. “I don’t know how you felt… and I didn’t understand how I felt… but that day, at your house, I was just so…” He looked for the word like it didn’t feel natural to reach for it. “Happy. I felt safe, and taken care of.” (Ilya couldn’t help but sit straighter then, almost preening.) “When you said my name, with your scent all around me, I realized I wanted… more. I wanted all of it. I wanted… I wanted to bare my neck.” His eyes widened at the memory; Ilya shivered. “It terrified me, so I ran.”

“But I didn’t reject you,” Ilya insisted. “You found someone else.”

“I tried, yes. Even when it felt wrong, even when it made me want to take more suppressants so I wouldn’t smell her… It was almost working. I just didn’t feel much of anything, ever. And then I saw you.”

“At the game?”

“No. At a club.” Memories flashed through Ilya’s mind. Lights, music, pheromones. “You were with someone else.” A small beta woman he didn’t have the guts to bring home after. She wore too much perfume.

“And then…” Ilya prompted, hope tumbling from his lips.

“I woke up nauseous the next day, and all the days after that. I got random fevers, recovery after the games became more and more difficult. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat.”

“Because of me?”

“Because I saw you kissing someone else.”

They stayed in silence for a few seconds, breathing in this new reality where the truth was out in the open.

“I found ways to manage,” Shane started again. “Suppressants, a stricter schedule, scent patches, sleeping pills. It worked until I got near you again.”

“At the game?” Ilya repeated.

This time, Shane acquiesced. “Yes. I spent that last intermission throwing up. Coach was pissed.” His gaze was lost in the distance, reminiscing. “After that I couldn’t hide it from the team, and the news spread fast, so I got benched.”

It had spread fast, too fast. They both knew what it meant. No wonder the Voyageurs were struggling to act like a pack…

“If the news hadn’t broke, they would have made you play?” Ilya asked, getting mad on Shane’s behalf.

“Until I became too much of a liability, yeah. But since everyone knew, they were afraid of the image they’d be sending, and… they were afraid players would use it against me.”

Ilya could see it. Players close to their ruts, using pheromones to mess with Shane’s sick brain looking for comfort. It made his blood boil.

“Anyway, I quickly got too sick to play anyway. At least I was lucky enough that no one made the connection between the sickness and… you.”

“Not even me,” Ilya spat, overcome by a wave of self-hate. He had caused this, it was all his fault. He had hurt Shane.

“You couldn’t know. I didn’t reach out.”

Ilya took a second to breathe. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared…”

“Of what?”

“That it wouldn’t matter if I did.”

This was the result of the system they had put in place themselves. Two idiots trying to control reality, and their biology, and their hearts. Of course they had failed, of course they had hurt each other, and themselves.

“It would have mattered, Hollander, I would have… I would have been here earlier.”

“Good to know,” Shane sent him a sad smile.

It could matter now, Ilya decided. They were here, and almost everything had been said out loud. He stood up.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

He went back to his car, opened the truck, and grabbed the first box he could. He brought it to the porch, where Shane had stood up.

“What is it?” Shane asked.

“A gift,” Ilya stated, and then, more truthfully, “a courting gift.”

Shane’s eyes widened, and he dropped to his knees to open the box. Ilya’s heart started hammering inside his chest at the joy on Shane’s face. He watched as Shane’s hands danced against the different fabrics, picked one, brought it to his face, inhaled.

“It doesn’t smell like you,” Shane said, and Ilya knew he wasn’t imagining the disappointment in his tone.

“I just bought it.”

“For me?”

“Yes, for you.”

“Do you often… how many omegas did you…” Shane hesitated.

“Court? No one. No one, Hollander, I couldn’t… I heard that you were sick, I wanted to help…” I thought I would mail it but… I needed to see you.”

Shane’s shy smile made Ilya’s heart race.

“Thank you,” Shane said, accepting the gist.

Ilya nodded, throat tight. Wordlessly, he went back for another box, then another, and, after some hesitation, his suitcase. Shane wasn’t there when he brought it back. The boxes were open, and a little less full. Ilya stood there until Shane appeared again.

“Take a box and bring it to the living room,” he ordered.

“Hollander…”

Shane sent him a dark look. There was more color to his cheek now, and he moved with more ease. It made Ilya want to preen.

“Stop that. Do you want to come in?”

“Yes,” was all Ilya could say.

“Then I am inviting you in, on one condition.”

“Anything,” Ilya heard himself say.

“Stop calling me Hollander.”

Ilya snorted and shook his head. He felt delirious with happiness.

“So, what will it be, Rozanov?” Shane said with a challenge in his voice. Ilya could also hear the fear, the insecurity.

“Shane…” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Shane,” Ilya whined.

Shane held out his hand, grabbed Ilya’s, and dragged him towards himself, over the threshold. Ilya all but fell against him. He crowded Shane against the wall and held him close, close enough to hurt, close enough that things felt right again. Shane was holding onto him with similar desperation, hands in his hair, letting Ilya carry most of his weight. Ilya couldn’t get away from him now even if his life had depended on it. He let his instincts take the wheel and nosed at Shane’s neck until he found his scent gland. He brushed it softly, just trying to get a feel of Shane’s state of mind. There was a joy there that hadn’t been present before, but he was still anxious, and tired. Ilya kissed him there, reveling in the shiver he could feel against his chest. He kissed up his neck, and his jaw.

“Let’s get you to bed?”

Shane’s eyes darkened.

“To sleep,” Ilya specified, and Shane rolled his eyes.

“What if I don’t want to sleep?” he said with a challenge in his tone.

“Okay. What do you want?” Ilya answered teasingly.

Shane opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself, frowning. Ilya let his hands dance against Shane’s sides.

“Tell me, солнышкоlittle sun, tell me what you want,” Ilya almost begged, trying to catch his gaze. “I’ll give it to you. What is it?”

“It’s just… weird. Wanting things again. I’ve been feeling so… empty.”

“I’m sorry сердце моёmy heart, I’m so sorry. I wish I could have helped you.” He kissed Shane’s jaw again, and his cheek, too chicken to find his lips.

“Well, you’re here now,” Shane whispered with a sweet smile.

“I am.” Ilya couldn’t help but mirror it. He was gathering his courage to dive in for a real kiss when Shane spoke again.

“Can you take care of the kitchen?”

“Huh?” was Ilya’s eloquent response, lost as he was in his admiration of Shane’s plump lips.

“Just bring the food in and make sure everything that needs to be in the fridge goes there. I just… there’s something I need to do.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

Ilya brought a hand up to caress Shane’s freckles. They didn’t always show in pictures, and some photoshoots even had the audacity to hide them. Oh he had missed them.

“I sort of need you to let go now,” Shane whispered.

“Oh, right, yes, sorry,” Ilya tripped over his words and took a step back.

Shane just followed, and kissed his cheek. “Come, I’ll show you the kitchen.”

Ilya followed, in a daze, incapable of not walking after Shane. To make matters worse, his scent had sweetened since their hug, and Ilya felt like an addict. They did manage to go their separate way long enough for Ilya to put all the food away and then, as previously instructed, to take a shower. Everything in Shane’s cottage was comfortable, luxurious, and big enough for two. Ilya couldn’t help but feel like he belonged here. He also couldn’t help but imagine Shane bent over in the shower, on the counter, and in the bed he passed by to get to the bathroom. All the omega’s pheromones were definitely getting to him.

Speaking of pheromones… he froze in front of the mirror as he was dressing himself again. Should he… forget the scent patches? Would Shane appreciate it? Would it help him to smell Ilya or would he feel assaulted to have that scent in his safe space? He stood there with a patch in his hand for far too long, and until Shane’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Ilya? Are you done?”

“Huh, yeah… almost. Do you…” he hesitated.

“What?”

Thinking he might need to see Shane’s face for that, Ilya opened the door just a little.

“Do you want me to keep the scent patches?”

“Fuck no,” was Shane’s immediate response. “I mean- whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He blushed. Ilya wanted to bite his cheeks. He threw the patch on the bathroom counter and walked out.

“No patches then,” he smiled predatorily. His hands found Shane’s waist easily, and he was debating holding him to his chest or throwing him on the closest bed when Shane moved away.

“Come, I need to show you something.” He smiled, grabbed Ilya’s hand and dragged him back to the main area.

Ilya followed easily. He felt like one of those cartoon characters with hearts trailing them. All because Shane Hollander was holding his hand and smelling divine. What had happened to him?

Shane stopped when he reached their destination, and Ilya froze. He had walked by the living room when he had first come in, but it looked entirely different now. Furniture had been pushed around, boxes had been opened, sofas had been stripped of their cushions. And there, in place of a fancy sitting area, was the biggest, prettiest, comfiest nest Ilya had ever seen. His brain was entirely reduced to statics.

“You were right about this whole place being a nest. I just started pushing things around, and it just felt right; and the things you bought, oh my god, they were just perfect. I didn’t even know what I liked but you somehow brought it all… what do you think? Keep in mind that it’s my first one in a long time, okay? I’m sure we can make it better.”

Ilya was about to combust. Mouth watering, goosebumps on his arms, scent going haywire, his body didn’t even know how to react anymore. And that was before he even integrated that Shane had said ‘we’.

“You’re not saying anything. Is it… is it bad?”

Ilya turned to Shane immediately when his scent turned sour. He grabbed his face softly and brought him close. He tried to ignore how watery his eyes felt.

“It’s perfect, радость мояmy joy, so perfect. Prettiest nest I’ve ever seen, you did so good. So, so good.”

He punctuated the statement with a soft kiss. It felt like their first one, like a rebirth. Shane let out a high-pitched noise, and came even closer. They kissed again, longer, slower, tasting each other like they were starving for it. Ilya had missed the taste of Shane’s lips and the feel of their tongues brushing so much he could cry. Shane’s pheromones made Ilya dizzy. He needed to lie down. Slowly, he made Shane walk backwards until they reached the nest. Shane fell into it easily. Ilya took a second to admire him, sprawled over his nest, color back into his cheeks, eyes shining. He was the prettiest thing Ilya had ever seen.

“Come here,” Shane begged, arms raised to grab Ilya.

Ilya, of course, couldn’t resist, and he simply fell to his knees. Shane moved backwards until he was in the center of the nest, and Ilya crawled after him, almost predatorily, too desperate to look like a threat. He covered Shane’s body with his own, but didn’t know where to go from here.

“Tell me what you want, любимыйbeloved, I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Shane put a hand to his cheek. “You won’t hurt me, it’s okay, I just need you.”

“You have me,” Ilya whispered, and he lowered himself to kiss him.

“I want…”

“Yes.”

“More skin,” Shane finally decided.

Ilya simply nodded, and stripped to his boxers while Shane did the same.

“I want your whole weight on me,” Shane whined, holding out his hands towards Ilya.

Ilya complied, covering him, and letting himself relax. Shane sighed once Ilya was resting entirely above him. He smelled so good that Ilya couldn’t help but nose at his neck.

“Yes, please, more,” Shane whimpered.

“More?”

“Scent me,” he ordered.

Maybe Ilya should question it, but he was too out of his mind with want. He licked a long stripe along Shane’s neck before settling against his scent gland, licking and slowly sucking a hickey onto it. Shane wiggled underneath him, letting out the cutest noises. Expertly, without detaching his mouth, Ilya put a leg between Shane’s, and grabbed both his hands to put them above his head. Wrist, neck, thighs, he managed to rub at all of Shane’s scent glands at once. He could smell him, taste him, and feel him all at once. He was drowning in Shane’s pheromones, and doing so happily.

“Oh my god,” Shane moaned.

Ilya moved just enough that he could see his face. His eyes were closed, and he seemed as relaxed as Ilya felt.

“This helps? With the sickness?” he wondered aloud.

Shane giggled, maybe a little high on alpha pheromones. “I’m pretty sure it’s the whole cure actually.”

He was too pretty, too precious, Ilya couldn’t help but kiss him, again and again, while massaging his wrists. Then, a miracle. The sound was too low to hear at first, but their bodies were so connected that Ilya felt it. At first, he thought that Shane was laughing, but then the sound got louder.

“Oh my god, Shane,” Ilya whined, unable to keep himself from melting against the omega.

Shane was purring. Loudly too. It was simply the most beautiful thing Ilya had ever witnessed.

“It’s the first time I’m hearing you…” Ilya said, awe clear in his voice.

Shane disentangled their hands so he could bring his to Ilya’s hair, and pull him up for a deep kiss.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever…” he said against Ilya’s lips, adorably surprised.

“Oh.”

“Keep touching me,” he begged.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Ilya let his hands roam everywhere he could reach, Shane purring louder and louder under his ministration. Then, his right hand brushed Shane’s stomach, and Shane twitched. The purring abruptly stopped.

“What? What is it? Did I hurt you?” Ilya froze and felt a rush of panic.

“No, no, it’s just… weird.”

Ilya pushed himself up, studying the omega under him. “Can I try something?”

Shane immediately nodded, and his trust made Ilya want to cry. He tried to compose himself, and brought his hand on each side of Shane’s hips.

“This okay?”

“Yes.”

Shane only sounded curious, so Ilya went further in his experiment. He brought his hands up just a little, and closer to Shane’s middle, then, he pressed his thumbs. It was like flipping a switch. Shane’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, entirely pliant under Ilya’s hands.

“Oh my god,” was all he said.

“Is this okay too?” Ilya asked softly, gently massaging the area with his palms.

Shane squirmed, not unlike Ilya had seen him do when he became overstimulated after an orgasm. Usually, it meant Ilya could bring him to another. He shushed him softly.

“You’re okay, it’s okay жизнь мояmy life.”

“What is… oh… what are you doing?”

“Your womb is very sensitive.”

“Fuck Ilya… how did you…” He sounded breathless.

“I just guessed.”

“Can you… stop… I need…”

Ilya noticed the tears at the corner of Shane’s closed eyes, and relieved some of the pressure.

“Keep… keep your hands there,” Shane said before he could move too far. “Warm…”

“Yes, don’t worry, I’ll stay,” Ilya assured as he started caressing Shane’s skin, keeping a light pressure with his thumbs.

Shane let him. Ilya had a feeling that Shane would let him do anything right now. He looked barely coherent. All that from a little massage.

“Have you been hurting? There?”

Shane’s eyes fluttered open. His gaze stayed to the ceiling for a second before coming down towards Ilya.

“Yeah. I was supposed to have… a heat at the end of the season. But the RS blocked it. It’s just been… a lot of cramps and feeling… empty.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ilya said truthfully.

He lowered himself to press a deep kiss into the soft skin of Shane’s belly, and Shane mewled.

“Fuck… It’s like I’m on fire… Do that again.”

Ilya did it again, and again, and rubbed his face there, guided by Shane’s whimpers. In the end, he let his head rest there, lying between Shane’s open thighs, caressing his sides. It felt like home.

“You feel… so good… so warm…” Shane mumbled.

“You should sleep,” Ilya offered, sensing that the omega still needed the rest.

He brought a couple of loose blankets closer and covered them both so that the omega wouldn’t get cold.

“You’ll stay?”

“Yes, I won’t move, I’ll keep you safe,” Ilya promised with another kiss to Shane’s stomach.

“Okay… Okay… I’ll…”

The rest of Shane’s sentence was lost as he fell asleep. Ilya couldn’t help the pride. Shane was safe, he smelled happy, he trusted Ilya to be in his nest, touch his stomach, guard him as he slept. Something deeply primal in him was immensely satisfied at that. He felt like an alpha, the right kind, a provider, a protector. He felt at ease, in this nest, with his mate. He let himself slip into sweet dreams.

He woke up to a hand petting his hair. He could feel Shane’s soft purrs against his cheek, smushed as it was against Shane’s stomach. If alphas could purr too, he certainly would. He moved the blankets and crawled up to cover Shane’s body entirely, to feel the soft rumble against his whole chest. He felt so good he could cry and, in fact, his eyes were a little misty. He hid his face in Shane’s neck.

“You stayed,” came the omega’s rough voice.

“I promised,” Ilya answered because it was the only thing that made sense.

They stayed like this for a few minutes, Shane holding onto Ilya, Ilya kissing his neck, the sun setting in the background. Then came Shane’s soft voice.

“Ilya…”

“Yes?”

“I want you to bite me.”

Ilya froze, and raised his head to look at Shane. He looked scared, but determined. If Ilya hadn’t already woken up hard, he would have been in a second. He tore his own heart out, and answered.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Why?”

Ilya was surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

Shane pushed at his shoulders and made them roll over until he could sit on Ilya’s lap, making him hiss at the contact. “I mean why? Is it because you don’t want it?”

Ilya sat up, and put his arms around Shane’s middle. “Of course I want it. Have you met yourself?” He frowned.

Shane smiled at that and kissed him, once, softly. “Then why?”

“Just… everything else. Hockey, media, your teammates. They would ask so many questions.”

“I’ll tell them it’s not any of their business,” he simply stated, and rolled his hips. Ilya’s eyes rolled back. “Every one already knows that I’m sick, they know I want an alpha, I just won’t say who, just like I always did.”

“Shane,” he whined. “ЛюбимыйBeloved, don’t do this to me.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Shane answered in his sweet, innocent voice.

Except he was all but innocent, and he rolled his hips again, and Ilya could tell that his boxers were damp, and his slick smelled heavenly, and Ilya was a weak, weak man.

“Shane…”

“I’m not asking you to let me bite you back. But you asked what I want. I want your knot, and your teeth on my neck.”

“Shane… oh my god.”

He was now fully grinding against Ilya, who was powerless to stop it. All he wanted was to please his omega. His. Shane could be his. Officially.

“I would let you…” His voice broke. “You know I would let you bite me… Shane…”

“Yeah? You’d be such a great alpha to me.”

“I would?” Ilya hadn’t meant to sound so insecure.

“Of course. Look at me, look at us. You’ve been so good to me already. I’ve been sick for months, and all I needed was you.”

Ilya couldn’t help but kiss him, grinding back.

“Please bite me. Mark me. Let me carry a piece of you everywhere. I’m not asking for anything else. You can leave right after. You can keep seeing other people. You can do anything, I don’t care, I just need to be yours.”

Ilya grabbed his waist hard enough to leave a bruise and rolled them around again. He could, because Shane had built the biggest and softest nest in all of Canada. He settled between Shane’s thighs, grinded into him, and lightly bit at his scent gland.

“Stop thinking all these ugly things. I’m never leaving. There is no one else.” He kissed Shane forcefully to prove his point, biting at his lip.

“No one else?” Shane said, something like wonder in his voice.

“No one else. Even when I didn’t have you, I was all yours.”

Shane’s smile could rival the sun for its light and warmth. He rose up to kiss Ilya, again and again, until he finally decided he had enough of being frustrated. He pushed Ilya off him just long enough to get their boxers out of the way, before getting back down and locking his ankles behind Ilya’s back to guide him where he wanted him most. Ilya tried to resist.

“Shane… wait… condoms…”

“Fuck condoms, fuck everything Ilya. I just need you. I’m on the pill, I’ve been tested for everything under the sun when I got sick. Just give it to me.”

And who was Ilya to fight this feisty omega? He didn’t think it was relevant to mention that he had also been tested for everything recently, for what he now suspected to be a form of alpha rejection sickness.

“Give it to you,” he laughed.

“Yes, it’s mine,” Shane said very seriously, pushing until Ilya was finally inside him.

They sighed in unison, finally feeling whole again. Shane’s body accepting Ilya like a part of himself. He had probably got rid of any suppressant to help with his illness, and Ilya could tell the difference. Everything was heightened. He smelled the same, but earthier, muskier, like he was in full bloom. His body was craving Ilya so much that it hadn’t needed any sort of preparation, and lube would have been overkill. Ilya could swear that he even made prettier noises, but that may have been just because he had missed him so much.

“Shane… you feel amazing.”

“Yeah? Prove it, alpha,” he said, managing to sound mocking despite being breathless.

Ilya took the bait, bit Shane’s cheek, and rolled his hips. They were holding onto each other too close for Ilya to thrust like he wanted, but there would be time for that later. For, now, they just wanted to melt into each other. They moaned and panted in each other’s mouth, eyes locked, lost in the overwhelming sensations. Ilya had known ruts less intense than this. It made sense, too, this feeling, this connection. They hadn’t been casual in a long time, but now they could revel in it. Shane smelled so happy, his body was so warm, he said Ilya’s name so sweetly. Ilya felt tears prickle at his eyes.

“Shane, oh god, я тебя люблю, я тебя люблюI love you, I love you…”

“Ilya…”

“I love you.”

“Oh my god.”

Shane was gripping Ilya’s hair hard enough to hurt. He started purring again.

“I love you too. Oh, Ilya, I love you so much…”

Ilya whined and crashed their lips together. His fangs had dropped, and Shane probably felt them through the kiss.

“Ilya, bite me,” he ordered, baring his neck. “Please, mark me, I’m yours Ilya, please make me yours.”

Shane sounded as delirious as Ilya felt. Nothing else but them mattered in the whole world. He kissed a tear away from Shane’s cheek.

“Don’t cry, золотцеdarling, precious, don’t cry, I’ve got you.”

He kissed a path down Shane’s face, his lips, his jaw, his neck, until he got to the junction between his neck and his shoulder. He kissed the small patch of skin reverently. He had dreamt of this so many times… He took a second to breathe, knowing that his life was about to change.

“You’re sure?” he asked, lips caressing the spot.

“Yes, I promise. Mark me.”

Putting a hand on Shane’s stomach to press against his womb, Ilya kissed him one last time, and then bared his teeth. Shane’s skin broke easily under Ilya’s fangs.

The sensation was like no other.

The entire world reduced to them.

Shane, and Ilya, becoming one.

In the distance, the sounds of their skin meeting, again and again, wet with slick and sweat. The sounds of cries too. Shane’s? Closer, the warmth shared in the infinitesimal space between them, the warmth of their hearts beating against each other, slowly falling in sync. Somewhere, the feeling of Ilya’s knot locking them together as they reach the most intense climax of their life. Shane’s nails clawing at Ilya’s shoulder, his other hand so tight in Ilya’s hair that it hurt them both. The taste of saliva pooling, and blood, and something so inherently Shane, which was now, also, inherently Ilya. Pain and pleasure, mixed, shared. Every single one of their cells rewriting itself to make some room for the other.

Ilya and Shane, one being.

After a minute, an hour, a while, the fog started to lift. Ilya, frozen above Shane, jaw still locked in place. Shane, breathing hard and fast under him. Stuck together by a need for closeness too desperate for words, and bodily fluids.

“Ilya…” Shane’s voice was hoarse, but Ilya was impressed by the fact that he managed to speak at all. He himself certainly couldn’t.

At the cost of a tremendous effort, Ilya willed himself to relish his hold on Shane’s neck. The wound was bloody, ugly; his jaw hurt. Ilya was mesmerized. He tried to lick it clean, ignoring the whimpers of the omega panting underneath him. He knew exactly what Shane was feeling, just as sure of it as he was of his own sensations, and Shane was in heaven. He even started purring again as Ilya nibbled along his neck. The feeling of it when they were both still linked and oversensitive made him giddy. Finally they locked eyes.

“Ilya…” Shane whispered again.

His eyes were half-lidded, his own fangs dropped, he looked downright sinful. Ilya knew how he must look. Hair wild, eyes wide and unfocused, fangs dropped, mouth covered in blood. He could only hope that Shane wouldn’t be spooked by the sight.

But Shane Hollander was always one to surprise him. That was one of the things Ilya liked the most about him, how he could never be contained within a box, how he always exceeded expectations.

Shane grabbed his face and brought him down for a kiss. Ilya moaned, and let himself be devoured. Shane separated them, observed Ilya for a second and then, wordlessly, chased away the tears on his cheeks. After that, he put his hands in Ilya’s hair, trying to tame his curls. When he was satisfied, his gaze fell to Ilya’s lips again.

“Can I…” He trailed off.

Ilya nodded. Shane could own his entire existence without asking. Shane brought him down again and started licking at his lips, his chin, grooming him. Ilya could feel the devotion beneath Shane’s tongue. He let himself be held, most of his weight held up by Shane’s hands, or resting against his chest, head lolling under Shane’s ministration. He had never known such bliss. When Shane was done, he brought Ilya back with gentle kisses. Finally, their eyes met.

“Hey,” Shane whispered, and Ilya could feel his breath against his lips.

“Hi,” he managed to say.

“You’re okay?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yeah.”

Ilya’s gaze fell to Shane’s neck. He brought a hand up to brush against his masterpiece, his touch featherlight.

“It hurts?” he asked, but he wasn’t afraid of the answer.

“Not really. It’s like… a tingle. I like it.”

“Good,” Ilya concluded, incapable of finding more words for now.

He kissed the wound; Shane sighed.

“That was… incredible.”

Ilya nodded. “I can’t even… think.”

Shane laughed, the sound sparkling inside Ilya’s chest.

“You sound drunk.”

“Maybe I am. Drunk of you.”

It actually made total sense to Ilya. Shane was the most addicting thing he had ever encountered, and he had finally had his fill of him. He knew, then, that it wasn’t the last time that he would bite Shane. But that wasn’t the moment to bring it up. Shane was moving again.

“I am too heavy?” Ilya asked.

“No, you’re perfect. I’m just… itching to bite you.”

Ilya whimpered.

“I know, I know, we can’t. I’m already so, so grateful. You did perfect, I promise.”

If the two biggest stars in hockey both came back after the break with matching mating marks… well the scandal would simply never end. It was safer this way. It didn’t mean that it was easy to accept.

“One day,” Ilya said, like a promise, and sealed it with a kiss.

“I know, one day, and it will be just as glorious,” he sighed dreamily.

“How are you so…” Ilya tapped against Shane’s temple.

“Coherent?” Shane tried, Ilya nodded. “I haven’t felt so awake in weeks, it’s almost weird.”

Ilya smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, and giggled (wow, he really was drunk).

Shane grabbed his jaw and forced their eyes to meet. “Tell me.”

“I fixed you with my magic knot,” he boasted.

Shane laughed, and Ilya followed.

“I’m pretty sure it was the mating bite but… yeah… I feel great.”

He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. Ilya couldn’t help but nose at his cheek, breathing him in.

“It’s like… the storm is over, and there’s just some things to put back in place, but the worst has passed.”

“That’s… great половинка мояmy (other) half). I’m really happy.”

“I’m really happy too,” Shane said with a kiss in Ilya’s hair.

“I love you,” Ilya said again, because it felt so good just to be allowed to say it.

“I love you too.”

Shane rolled them onto their side so he could kiss Ilya more easily. The alpha felt sleepy. It was as if, now that Shane was saved, and safe with no means to get away anytime soon, Ilya’s body was coming out of its survival mode, and was finally allowing itself to rest. Still, he couldn’t miss the opportunity to kiss Shane, and so he fought to stay awake.

“I hope my nest will smell like you,” Shane said like a confession.

“Well, the more I stay the easier it will be.”

“Stay forever then,” Shane smiled.

“Deal,” Ilya answered, hiding his smile by kissing Shane’s mating mark. It was red, shiny, beautiful. “That’s how long it will take to scent your giant nest.”

“It’s not that big,” Shane frowned, looking around.

“No, it’s not,” Ilya sarcastically conceded. “You can only fit one hockey team, and not even their whole staff.”

Shane playfully bit him, and Ilya laughed.

“Well that’s fine, ‘cos I’m not inviting any hockey team anytime soon.”

“The Voyageurs are not a good pack?”

Shane thought about it for a second. “No, not really.”

Ilya hummed. “The Bears are a good team. Good friends. But not a pack.”

Shane nodded. “Maybe…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe one day we can have a pack.”

“You think so?”

Shane nodded. “Yeah. Maybe teammates, maybe not, but…”

“We deserve it.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll get a pack then,” Ilya nodded, knowing that if Shane Hollander put his mind to it, it would become a reality. The sole idea made him tingle all over, and made him want to bite Shane again.

“And then…” Shane’s eyes fell to Ilya’s neck, his fingers followed, caressing the sacred spot, “then I’ll bite you, and you’ll be mine.”

“I am already yours.”

Shane smiled.

“A pack, a bite, and…” Shane trailed off.

“And?”

“Some pups…?” He sounded almost shy, which was incomprehensible considering everything about this moment.

“Yeah? I’d like that,” Ilya said, caressing Shane’s stomach, mind running wild with images of it rounded up.

“It’s a deal then.”

“A pack, a bite, and many, many pups,” Ilya whispered, transfixed by the softness of Shane’s belly.

Shane laughed. “Maybe not too many.”

“But still a lot. We have to make use of your giant nest.”

Shane laughed, and cut him off with a kiss, and another, and another, as they dreamed of this now possible future.