Chapter Text
"And I am so healthy otherwise!" Ilya exclaimed, laughing under his breath as he slapped the rim of his wheelchair, before taking another drag off of his cigarette. It was Florida cold that morning, so Ilya threw on a hoodie before going outside.
Hollander looked cold too. Ilya could see his nipples. He was wearing a white shirt, and Ilya was pretty sure he would've been able to see them through it even if they weren't hard.
"I do not smoke in my house, Nurse Hollander, but if it's a problem for you that I smoke outside? Then... maybe you should go. I will take the blame with Carter. I am difficult. He knows this."
Ilya looked up at the man, a little sorry he hadn't timed his trip outside better. Meeting like this was not what he'd planned.
Hollander was supposed to arrive at nine, so Ilya thought it would be a good idea to go outside and have a morning cigarette, before he asked the other man to make him a cup of coffee. Then he would be both a little more relaxed and a little more awake for the interview.
It was a good plan, his timing just sucked. Hollander was early.
Ilya slapped at the siding of the house to quiet Anya before Hollander got out of his car. The man had an adorable knock kneed walk as he approached, introducing himself. He did a decent job pronouncing Ilya's name, and offered him his hand to shake, before the dig about smoking being bad for him.
Ilya took another drag. "It's my one vice," he lied. He had several, something Shane Hollander would learn, if they could get through their first day together.
"Right. Sorry," the man replied. "Really sorry. Of course you know smoking is bad for you, and-"
Ilya turned his head to blow smoke away from his visitor.
"It's not my place to say otherwise. Sorry. My inner monologue slipped out. I'm... I'm a little nervous," the man confessed, combing his dark hair down as the wind blew his weird bangs out of place. Hollander's hair looked better windswept. Resetting it was probably a nervous habit.
Ilya could tell he was nervous.
He made most people nervous.
"Don't be."
Hollander laughed once. "Okay. Sure. It's that easy to stop on command, right?"
Ilya recognized Hollander was probably trying to be funny, and show empathy for his nicotine addiction, but did not laugh himself.
"I just... sorry, just going to be honest here," which Ilya appreciated. "I could really use the money. Also, I'm pretty sure this is illegal in the US, like, practicing medicine without a license, and I'm not licensed, or formally trained for this, or anything. It's okay, in Canada, for relatives to do this kind of thing, home healthcare, but we're not related, and this isn't Canada. So, yeah. I'm extra nervous, and, yeah, I could really use the money, but -"
"Carter told me about you. Your credentials are fine. Nurse is a low paying job for the amount of work required. Home health aide is even less, so I can see why you want this job, since I am offering much more than the standard rate.
"And, lucky you. Usually a job like this? Home health aide? It's a lot of work. Not for you though... not with me. Carter said you took care of your grandfather for many years, so you know how to do this, yes, but this experience won't be necessary. I am not hard to take care of because I can take care of myself, Hollander. I do not need a nurse here to take care of me.
"I don't even know why you're here," Ilya said flippantly, though he'd been the one to ask his friend if he knew anybody who could help, after the temp agency he was using fired him as a client.
And Hollander had just explained why he was there. He needed the money.
"A weekend nurse is not something I need. I am just doing this, having someone come stay with me for a few hours, on weekends, to make people shut the fuck up, and not give me grief. That's all. Job is more like a servant's job than nurse's job."
Should I be honest? It's a babysitting job. I am the baby. Do you want to sit on my lap, Hollander? Just being honest, I would not mind.
"It's not important that you do not have formal training. You have lots of experience doing this, yes? You just did not do it for a job before? Only... family obligation?"
"Yeah... that's a good way to put it, I guess."
Hollander looked to be some amount of some kind of Asian. Carter hadn't mentioned that. He mentioned the man was big enough to lift him, which he wouldn't need to do, though Ilya agreed, he did look big enough, maybe. Hollander looked like he had pretty muscles, muscles he got at the gym just to look pretty, which he was, not muscles which were good for anything else.
"Yes, okay. Your friend Hollander is hot. I get it. I am not trying to fuck every man I meet. Jesus Christ, Carter! Who even told you I am bisexual? What the fuck?"
"Scott," Carter said, shrugging. "And he said you hit on everyone now, like, ev-er-ry-one, so, I'm flattered, but I'm married, Roz."
Ilya laughed at his friend's disclaimer. "Most men would say they are straight, and this is why hitting on you will not work," Ilya teased.
"DUDE! I've seen you pick up chicks, so... not so sure about that. Like, I used to aspire to your level of smooth. But, you know, happily married, so I'm not interested."
"Hollander... what is he? Gay? Straight? Bisexual? Married? Ugly?"
"Uh... literally just told you he's the hottest guy I know, after you, of course," Carter replied. "But... honestly? The dude has got to be straight. As much time as he spends in a gym, if he was gay? He'd have a boyfriend, because, let me tell you... HOT."
Carter's description, though vague, was not inaccurate.
"Where are you immigrating from?" Ilya confessed, forgetting that the man had mentioned-
"Canada," just a few seconds earlier, which both did and did not explain why he looked Asian.
"And I immigrated a few years ago, technically. But, I've been thinking about trying to get citizenship here, which considering how things are going is probably not a great idea. My parents certainly don't think so. But, I have plans for the fall, going back to school, I hope. So, in the meantime, I need a job that actually pays, and-"
Ilya nodded as he took another drag. That was right. Everything Carter told him about his friend was coming back to him now.
Ilya's cigarette was doing the job he needed it to do, both calming him down and waking him up.
So was Hollander.
The man was hot.
"This fits my schedule really well, actually, because I can work nights or days during the week, and on weekends too even. And, if I get the job I want, then-"
"What is it you do again? Other job, not this one?"
"Oh," Hollander smiled a little. "Uh, I'm a trainer. I mean I was a trainer, in Miami, but my boss left, and so did my job, so yeah. He's trying to get me a job up here, but it's the off season, and they're not ready to start filling out his team yet. He hooked me up with a couple of private clients, but not nearly enough to make ends meet. And I'm working with a couple of youth teams right now, but that's pro bono-"
Ilya laughed. "That always sounds like a sex thing to me... pro bono," he said, trying to smile at the man, since he was still visibly nervous and fidgeting. Hollander kept hooking his thumbs on his pockets and standing like the emoji man. But, then he would gesture with one of his hands, and have to hook them onto his pockets again.
It was cute.
The man had a cute smile, and he was cute. The fidgeting was cute, and Ilya liked watching his hands. They were big.
"Sorry. It's just legal speak. I've been volunteering, and-"
"And you are going to quit me when you find a job in your field? Training? Like a personal trainer... training? This is what you do for work?"
Hollander nodded, humming. "But I worked for a sports team in Miami. I'd rather do that than try and get a job at a gym, or, like, set up a self-contracting business, which, like, legally I'm not even sure I'm allowed to do."
"This position, it's about four months, maybe more. I don't know. You will be available every weekend for four months?"
"Probably, yeah. But, I mean, if I don't get into school... I applied for the Kinesiology program at UCF... but if I don't get in, and if I don't get a job this fall... I don't know. I'll have to become a sugar baby, or something, if I want to stay here in Florida because," Hollander smirked, "I'm going to run out of money."
"You saved money in Canada? With your free healthcare and-"
"Yeah, I did. And I was working in Miami, but I was just with the team part time."
What sport? Ilya didn't ask. It was probably hockey. It had to be hockey. Hollander had to have worked with the Panthers, or something, and now he was hoping for a job with the Lightning, though Ilya couldn't think of who on the Panthers had left to go to Tampa recently.
"Miami is a nicer place to live. Not cheap though. And traffic is very fucking worse."
"I know, and my parents helped me out a little. My friend got me the job, but it was just part-time, and I couldn't find anything else that worked with my schedule while I was there. And, I mean, I didn't want to take my parents' money, but Miami is an expensive city, so-"
"So your parents gave you money then, but you do not want to ask for more?" Ilya asked, saying, "No, I get it," before Hollander could reply. "I have money like this set aside for my niece. But, you must be getting desperate if you agreed to this job, yes?"
"Kind of," the man began. "I mean, I'm not going back to law-"
So, he was a lawyer? A fucking lawyer? Where did all your lawyer money go, Hollander? And you want to be a trainer now? This is not an upgrade.
"And I was so stupid, thinking I would be able to just come down here, and get a good job, and sponsorship, that's the real kicker, because people knew me from the Metros. Oh," He laughed, shrugging. "I used to be a lawyer for the Metros... that's how I know so many people in hockey. And, like, I don't even know if I'm going to get into the Kinesiology program, and I'll be paying an arm and a leg for that, or my parents will, so yeah. I'm getting desperate."
So, you are friends with Carter.
You worked for the Metros and the Panthers.
You do know who I am, yes?
Pretend I am not stuck in this chair, and I am looking you in the eye, like a face off. I am wearing black today. I wore black back then. You are a hockey fan?
You know who I am?
"Metros are a good team. Carter played one season for the Metros, after he left New York. This is how you know him?"
"Oh, yeah. That's how I met Carter. Just a nice coincidence that he's down here now. I reached out when I moved up here from Miami, and, well, you know him. Carter's great. Like, he's one of the few people who's never given me grief for crashing out." Hollander shook his head. "Sorry. I probably shouldn't say that. Burned out? Let's go with that."
"And another friend, different friend, got you a job with the Panthers? But the job went away?"
"Yeah. I was kind of working for him, and he left, so yeah. There was nothing tying me to Miami, and it's so expensive.
"But I love being a trainer," Hollander continued. "It's so much less stress, I still get to work in sport... I mean, everything about it is great. That's why I want to go back to school, so I can make a real career switch."
"Orlando has no hockey team. Why move to Orlando?"
"Well, the school I want to go to is here," Hollander began. "And Tampa isn't far. Besides, the Panthers shit it up this season," Hollander said, smirking as he crossed his arms.
He was cold.
"Sorry. I can go on about hockey all day. Don't know if you like talking about hockey-"
That was a stupid question.
Why wouldn't he like talking about hockey?
Ilya tried to do the math in his head, thinking about the dates Hollander gave him. If he left the Metros legal team three years earlier, Ilya was pretty sure Hollander must've been working for them when he was still playing. The Metros played the Raiders.
"Why do you want to work for Tampa? It's an okay place. Traffic is shit. Very different from Canada though. Metros is a much better organization than Lightning too, I can tell you that. You hate winter, or something?"
"No. I... uh..." Hollander laughed. "I also moved to Orlando for a girl."
"Ah. Okay. I am hiring you for a girl... a girl who is tired of looking after me," and Ilya was pretty sure he was going to do that, hire Hollander, despite him introducing himself by nagging him about smoking. "So, I get it."
Hollander smiled. "You are? I thought you lived alone, and-"
The man uncrossed his arms, hooking his thumbs in his pockets again.
"Shit. Sorry. None of my business. Sorry."
"It's okay," Ilya replied. "And no, she does not live with me," he added, taking another drag. "This is why we are okay. Her not living with me makes things easier for her."
"And she is out of town anyways. She has a six month contract job back home, in Russia. I am fine on my own, and she knows this, and she misses her brothers and sisters. They are all having babies, she has never met them, and this will be a good break for her... being away from everything here," including him, "to spend time with them.
"Maybe she wants to go back? I don't know. But it was a good job offer for her, and she wanted to go, and Cliff does not want more hours, so..."
"Here we are," Hollander interjected. "Cliff, that's your day nurse? During the week? And you're alone... like, otherwise? Like, you don't have anyone providing-"
"I can take care of myself, Hollander. It's why I said this is more of a servant's job than a nurse's job. Cliff does not work weekends.
"Cliff," Ilya began, figuring he might as well explain Cliff's job, so there was no confusion. "He is a nurse, yes, and this is his only job. I pay him well enough that it's his only job, and he does not need a weekend job, or a night job, or to look for a better job where he is using his degree for what he is actually supposed to be doing with it. He does not nurse me much. Some things, yes, but not much... barely nothing... and it's not... not a necessary thing most of the time. It's easier that he is here with me, and can do nursing things occasionally, instead of me calling someone else in, special, or having to go places for this, or hiring more people.
"I like him. We are friends. He's been with me since my accident. He was a real nurse then. I met him in the hospital where I was. I poached him for this much easier job after I came home and saw what home health nurses were like.
"And he is only here on weekdays, like a normal job. I have always been fine not having someone here on nights or weekends all the time, when Svetlana is not here."
"But your girlfriend, Svetlana? She's going out of the country, and she doesn't want you to be alone?"
No.
No, Svetlana did not want him to be alone... the opposite. So much the opposite that it felt wrong hearing Hollander call her his girlfriend, when Ilya did not, and would not say this himself.
"What do you mean by a servant's job though? I mean, Carter mentioned you might need a little help with housekeeping, which I get, but-"
"Housekeeping, yes, but I have a woman who comes twice a week for this. This is not a job like cleaning toilets, scrubbing showers, doing laundry for me... nothing like that. This is a servant's job though. I am lazy. I want a Coke? I am comfortable on the sofa? I say, 'Hollander, bring me a Coke.' I throw clothes off in the bathroom and do not stop to pick them up? You run through and do this after I am out. I finish my take out dinner? You throw out the boxes, and make sure the leftovers go in containers in the fridge. I want a cup of coffee in the morning? You-"
"Make you a cup of coffee. Got it."
"All you have to do is a little bit of housekeeping, servant's job, and driving me places, this too. This is a pretty big part... driving me places, but I do not need an escort. You can wait in the car, which is not a medical person's job at all.
"But, Sveta would feel more comfortable if I hired someone to be here on weekends, and I do not want her worrying about me while she is in Russia, so here we are, as you say. Whole point of her going there is to have fun. It would be stupid to have her go... but worry about me the whole time.
"Checking up on me too much, yes? We do not have the sort of thing where we call everyday. It would be too annoying for us both."
"So... you don't need help with personal care then?" Hollander asked, tentatively.
"No. Why? You want to see what I'm packing?" Ilya said, smiling as he turned his face to blow smoke again.
"What?" The other man's laughter was forced. "No? I'm just trying to understand what you need me to do, other than hang out for eight hours, twice a week, and wait on you."
"Exactly this, but ten days a month," Ilya corrected. "Cliff works two four day weeks and two five day weeks.
"Ten days a month, and more if he goes on holiday, or has to take a day off for something. But, if this is a problem with your other jobs, training, I can call for a temp to come on these days, if this happens."
"Oh. Yeah, it might be a problem. I don't know. I could probably do a split shift though, like come in the morning for an hour or two, and get you set up for the day, and then do the rest of my shift after work. I mean, if you don't need help with personal care, and if that sort of flexibility is possible for you. I don't know, so-"
"I am very flexible, Hollander."
The man didn't flinch.
"And I had a nurse three days a week only, total, when I was discharged from rehab. It was fine."
Ilya suppressed the urge to repeat that he could take care of himself. He could, it was just annoying. During the week it was especially annoying because he had to call a car service regularly, and spend time and energy on things he could avoid if he had someone there to do simple, little tasks for him, like the ones he'd described.
"And I live alone, yes? Weekends it's often just me, and I am fine. I am only doing this for Sveta. I do not want to do this at all."
Ilya pointed at Hollander with his cigarette.
"You are the number four person I have tried. The others, from the temp agency, medical assistants? They did not work out. One, she came to the door with a lunch I did not like the smell of. Bye! She was the first, so I knew this was going to be fucking impossible... finding someone who does not annoy me all day, or act like I am incompetent, and try to take care of me, or bother me about the way I do things.
"Cliff... he is like an annoying roommate who is grateful I let him live with me, so he helps when I ask. For him, it's like having a rich roommate, who pays all the bills, so then he does little things for me to show he is grateful for the upgrade in lifestyle.
"We are very good friends though. We love hanging out together. We're like boring, loser friends, with no girlfriends or jobs," at least they were like that, "who sit around all day, doing nothing. Doing nothing and working out. We do that a lot too."
Ilya took another drag. "I forgot... this is part of the job too. I cannot work out by myself. Someone needs to be there to spot me, and help a tiny bit. But, you want to be a trainer? So, this sounds like the perfect thing for you too then, yes?"
Say yes.
"Does he live with you during the week? Cliff? Because you said you're like-"
"He has a room. He maybe stays here sometimes. He did live here for a while, and even when he moved out, sometimes, there were weeks he stayed the whole time anyways, even weekends, when Sveta was not around. But, he bought a nice place last year, so he does this less now. Mostly, he only stays over if we go out and come home alone. He has a serious partner now, so when we go out, just me and him, he always comes home alone. And..." Ilya said, laughing at himself. "I am getting old and lazy. I am sure Carter complained to you that I am lazy, so I do this more now too... coming home alone.
"You can use his room on weekends, if you want. Cliff has a partner now, I mentioned this, so he does not stay over much, unless he is in the doghouse. You are in the doghouse, Cliff Marleau? And Hollander is here too? Then you can sleep on my very nice sofa, asshole, because I probably agree you deserve to be there.
"Cliff is nice though," Ilya continued. "We would not be friends if he was not nice, but Cliff is also an asshole, like me, so I would probably agree he deserves the sofa in this imaginary situation. His partner is much smarter than him, and much more patient than me.
"I am a terrible patient, Hollander. You should know this. I am very impatient."
Hollander laughed through his nose, nodding. "So was my grandfather. I get it."
Did he?
"I lived with him... during university, and for a couple years after that. I lived with him, and I liked taking care of him, even as things got more intense, so, yeah. That's probably why Carter recommended me, he knows I used to take care of my grandfather. I even left school for a year, at the end, because he didn't want to go to a nursing home, and-"
"I'm sorry," Ilya interrupted. "That is a very hard job, taking care of someone like that... at the end. He is dead now? Or it was too much, and you-"
Hollander's face tensed. "Not sure that's any of your-"
"No, it's not my business." FUCK! "Sorry. Maybe he is not even-"
"He's dead," Hollander interjected. "It was almost ten years ago. More than five, but less than ten. Math isn't my strong suit."
"Me neither. I am lucky I have money because me neither. But," Ilya continued. "Like I said, you can use Cliff's room. It's no trouble, leaving things there, staying there. I will not make you work a forty-eight hour shift if you stay over. I will not even make you work eight hour shifts. This is a cushy job, as they say, yes? Not much work, not anywhere near as much work as most jobs like this. I do not need help... like someone else might. It will not be like a nurse job where there is a patient who you cannot leave alone overnight, or any shit like this. I am being clear?"
It wasn't really a question. Ilya was trying to spell things out as best he could. After three failed attempts, he knew this was a difficult job to fill. Apparently, it was hard to find a babysitter who did not treat him like a fucking helpless baby.
"You live in Orlando? You said Lightning, which is Tampa, but UCF, which is Orlando. Or maybe you split the difference, and live in fucking Lakeland?"
"Orlando," Hollander replied. "But I go to Tampa sometimes, so-"
"That is a shit commute, even to here. I-4 is highway to hell. You know this song?" Ilya asked, blowing smoke away from him again.
Hollander just shrugged. He looked even more nervous than before. He needed this job, and Ilya needed to not have this fucking conversation again. Hollander seemed like a decent babysitter candidate. He liked working out, he knew hockey, he had taken care of a relative in a similar condition, not that he would need to do that with him, but this was nice, just in case. Hollander needed money, he had a car, he was hot...
"I-4 can be murder on weekends, even at morning hours, or in the evening. I will not be asshole about this though. Leave Orlando at whatever time. It takes forty minutes to get here? Okay, good. It takes ninety minutes, for no fucking reason? Fuck. Whatever. I don't care. I will not make you stay late to make up for it.
"But this is why it's maybe easier staying over Saturday night, in Cliff's room, if you do not want to do this commute so much, and if you live alone, and don't have pets to-"
Ilya chuckled. "I forgot. I have a dog, a big dog, Anya. I am a lazy asshole about taking her out to potty. This is a big part of the job, Hollander, taking her out to potty. If she likes you? Then she will be your job more than I will.
"You like dogs?" He asked, flicking his chin up at Hollander. "Anya... she does not like everyone. Before I say yes to you, you have to meet Anya. She gets the final vote."
Hollander's mouth twitched positively. He was obviously not disappointed to be talking about going inside for a final interview, as though he'd passed the initial one, held outside Ilya's house.
Ilya wanted to conduct this interview while seated on the sofa, on the far end, with his chair behind it, so Hollander wouldn't see it when he knocked, and Ilya told him to just come in.
Obviously, Hollander knew Ilya's wheelchair existed, he knew Ilya was paralyzed, but it would've been nicer to sit on the sofa and look at one another eye to eye.
Ilya flicked his cigarette into the gravel flower bed. He didn't know whether to be elated, because the seams in Hollander's pants looked like they were about to pop as he squatted, his thighs were so big, or annoyed because what the fuck? Ilya flicked it there on purpose, and he did not want Hollander picking up after him like this, when he wasn't asked.
This was not a test.
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, uh, I thought you dropped this?" Hollander said, holding the cigarette filter.
"What? You want me to take it back from you and throw it again? I didn't throw it the opposite direction, or far enough, or some shit?"
"Figured it was bad to leave it out here? Because the dog might eat it?"
Fuck.
Ilya would never be able to flick cigarette butts into the gravel ever again, because what if the dog did eat it?
"She is not the kind of dog who is eating things all the time. I hired a very good trainer for her when she was new with me. She is a very good dog, but she is very big, and I did not want to have an accident with my fucking dog, from her doing normal fucking dog things, because I didn't know what the fuck I was doing getting a dog."
Fuck. That was true.
Ilya got Anya on a whim. He quickly saw he had no idea what he was doing with a dog, so he hired someone to help. Ilya was not above, begrudgingly, asking for help when he needed it. He knew nothing about dogs when he got Anya, other than knowing that he wanted her. Anyone with the means to do so would've been stupid not to hire someone to train her and teach him what to do. Now Ilya had a very wonderful, though she was always wonderful, well trained dog, and he knew exactly how to take care of her, though he'd never once considered she might eat the cigarette butts he left in the gravel.
"I don't know a lot about dogs. I've never had a dog," Hollander said, smiling. "But I really love animals. My TikTok For You Page is all cute animal videos, and-"
"Do not call her cute. She is, but do not say this where she can hear it. She is very, very cute, big baby, but do not say this word to her... cute. She is a majestic wolf, who deigns to humor me with her company... not a cute, little, helpless baby dog."
"What kind of dog is she?"
Ilya shrugged. "Adult. Big. Vet says Husky and German Shepard mix... but when they say this it's just guessing because she is big, with a stiff coat, and ears that go up.
"She is just a dog... not a special breed. She came from the shelter.
"I had a fight with Svetlana, this one time," Ilya continued. "She said I could not take care of myself... I could not take care of her... I could not take care of anyone. It was like a test for me... proving her wrong. 'Oh, you think I can't do this? I can't take care of fucking anyone? Okay. I will show you. I will take care of this dog. I will spoil my fucking cute baby no one else wants because they think she is a big, tough, mean dog who barks too much.'"
Ilya could admit he had not been doing a very good job taking care of himself back then. But, if he wanted to take very good care of Anya, and of course he did, she was his princess, then he had to take better care of himself too.
"Last part is true. Anya is a barker. Big too. I am glad you are not some petite, little thing, trying to take her out on her leash for me at potty time. She is a good dog, but if she sees a person she does not like the look of? She will bark like she is going to attack. She won't, but she will make you think she is a wild beast. And, she sees a squirrel? Oh, fuck you, asshole. Squirrel time. She goes crazy for squirrels."
Hollander laughed. "My friend's family has dogs. I like dogs, and I don't mind barking. That's just how they say hello."
"Okay. Well, I will take you in to meet her now. If you have meat, any kind, a bag lunch, pepperoni stick in your car, something like this... bring it in with you. You can trick her into liking you this way. I don't care."
"Sorry. I'm a pescatarian."
Ilya, unfortunately, knew what that meant.
"I only eat fish."
"Too bad for you. Anya prefers sausage, just like her poppa," Ilya said with a wink.