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The credits rolled as the episode of House Hunters came to end. It was one of the few shows Shane would indulge in when big and typically worked well to pull him out of little space gradually when it was time to leave Ilya’s. Not that he wanted to leave.
“How you feeling?” Ilya questioned. Shane was lying atop him on the couch and buried his head in his chest, not wanting to answer yet. “I take it that means you’re feeling big, now?”
Shane groaned in affirmation, simultaneously trying to pull blankie over his head. Leaving was getting so hard. Ilya chackled, stopping him from hiding.
“You should probably get to packing, I know how you hate to leave things til last minute.” Why did Ilya have to know him so well? “You want Daddy to help?”
“No, I got it.” Shane finally said defeated. Ilya wasn’t wrong, and as much as he appreciated Ilya’s help, he had a system for this.
“Okay. I’ll get started on dishes while you pack? Da?”
“Yeah,” Shane said, dragging himself to his feet and pulling Ilya up after him. Ilya didn’t let go of Shane’s hand right away, pulling him back into his chest for a smothering hug, peppering kisses all up and down his face and neck.
“You could also just stay,” Ilya joked, holding him tight.
Shane wanted to. Wanted to say, Okay Daddy, I’ll stay. Instead, he gave the big answer. The reasonable response. “I have a game tomorrow.”
“I know.” Shane wasn’t sure if the undertone of sadness was actually in Ilya’s voice or if he was just projecting his own dejection. Either way, Ilya let him go, a playful swat to his ass as he left toward the bedroom to pack.
Grabbing the duffel bag from the closet, Shane started to fold the clothes he had brought down for the weekend. Not many items, Ilya kept him mostly in his little outfits during these moments, but just in case Shane couldn’t actually drop for some reason, he always brought a few days’ worth of shirts and pants that were not adorned with kidlike patterns. He grabbed his toiletry bag from the bathroom next, though it hadn’t even been opened this trip—Ilya also having little versions of pretty much everything he would need. He probably could stop bringing it with him, but he had a system, so it kept getting packed.
As Shane was about to start putting the items in his bag, he remembered he had to get a stuffie (or maybe two) that would do a rotation in Montreal with him. He hated burying them in the bag, but he was still a bit self-conscious about others seeing, and under his clothes was the best way to keep them somewhat hidden from the public eye. He decided to take his duffel with him to his playroom so that if he chose to bring two stuffies (which seemed more and more likely with every passing minute), he could make sure they both fit comfortably in the bag. It was a logical decision.
Most of his stuffies were under the bed, a blanket tented down one side to the floor from the ‘fort’ he had built them earlier that day. Crawling inside to retrieve his stuffed toy army, his brain maybe got a little fuzzy again. But that was probably nothing to worry about. Just a bit of lingering little space that would go away soon, now that he was big. And if he opened the toy box just to make sure that there weren’t any stuffies hiding in there, it was him just being thorough. Logical. Taking his favorite blue shorts out of the dresser to pack in his bag may have been a little indulgent, but as long as he remembered to bring them back, his Daddy probably wouldn’t mind…
“Woof, gos’ta remind me to bring these back. ‘kay?” He held his shorts up to his wolf stuffie who was waiting to be packed. Woof would make sure he would bring them back, so Shane was confident he wouldn’t get in trouble. Daddy probably wouldn’t even notice they were gone. It was the perfect plan.
Ilya was searching for something to do. He’d finished the dishes, wiped down the counters, and folded all the blankets on the couch. Shane hadn’t finished packing yet, and he knew better than to interrupt him lest he want to get yelled at about “messing up his system” or chastised for trying to get Shane’s clothes off instead of packed. Granted, Ilya loved the angry kitten face that usually accompanied that, so maybe it was worth being chided a bit.
Footsteps rumbling down the stairs put an abrupt end to the fantasies now playing out in his head. Bummer.
Ilya almost didn’t see it, which was shocking given that it was pretty hard to miss. The head of Shane’s stuffed wolf was sticking out of his duffel bag; the zipper was fully closed, but for the opening to let his stuffie through.
“All packed?” He questioned, waiting to see if Shane would provide a reasoning himself.
“Yep!” Shane responded. Notably not saying anything else—and sounding significantly younger than when he’d left to go start packing.
“Looks like your bag is quite full. Want Daddy to help try to make your stuffie fit?”
Shane shook his head, pushing the duffel behind his back as if trying to hide it. The contents rattling and clinking around made Ilya suspect there may be more than just clothes inside. “No, is fine.”
“Hmm, I think Woof might disagree.”
“No… ummm… he told me he wants to see the airport.”
Oh, his boy was absolutely adorable, even if a terrible liar. Ilya so wished he didn’t have to put him on a plane home and that he could just keep him here forever. But they both had responsibilities in the big world outside these walls, and they couldn’t fully escape them quite yet. Maybe someday soon.
“Ah, okay, well lets take him out so you can carry him then. Make sure he can really see all of the airport, da? And Daddy can make sure you have everything packed.”
“No thanks, Daddy. I got e’erything. Promise.” Shane tried again, looking more and more guilty.
“Why do you not want Daddy to help? What’s in the bag, malysh?”
“Nothing Daddy. Just Woof.”
“So… no problem if Daddy double checks, then?”
“Um…”
“Malysh, give me the bag, please.”
Shane holds out the duffel toward Ilya, tears coming to his eyes. Opening it up, Ilya finds a myriad of Shane’s toys and little items. Next to Woof sits Spike and Moose, who all seem to be hiding Shane’s favorite pair of shorts and a set of his little PJs beneath them. There’s also a handful of Lego, what looks to be half a puzzle, several Hot Wheels cars, and his tool belt with most of his plastic tools. A coloring book lined the bottom of the bag, and in one corner, a box of crayons surrounded by a few soskas. Shane’s half-full sippy cup rolling around among all the contents.
Ilya glances up to see Shane looking abashed with his thumbs in his pockets, shifting his weight back and forth nervously. His sweet boy.
“Shane, come here, please.”
His little boy shuffles forward, eyes remaining downcast. Ilya cups his chin to tilt his face up—glassy eyes stare back at him, a slight wobble to his lower lip.
“If you want to bring things home with you, you just have to ask, okay? You don’t have to hide it from Daddy.”
“Daddy not mad?” Shane whispers.
“You shouldn't lie or hide things from Daddy; that will earn you spanking," Ilya reminded him; Shane had the decency to look ashamed. "But otherwise no, very happy actually. They’re for you malysh, and I love that you want them with you more often.” Ilya would set up an entire playroom in Montreal too if Shane would let him. “But maybe we should get you a bigger bag, or actual suitcase. So you can also take the clothes you brought here home too.”
“What if I… um…”
“What if you what?”
“I could just trade you, maybe?”
“You want to leave your clothes here? And take toys home?” Ilya questioned. He tried not to get his hopes up, or he may do something crazy like clean out half his closet for Shane to start moving stuff into (because converting a whole guest room into a playroom for him wasn’t crazy).
Shane nodded, humming out an affirmation, and Ilya felt his face light up in glee. His boy wanted to leave something here. It was just a couple of shirts, but Ilya was already mentally sorting his own clothes to determine what could be moved into another room or put in storage to clear out half the master closet. A second dresser may be necessary, though; he’d have to check.
“Yeah,” Ilya finally choked out. “Yeah, we can trade. But how about Daddy helps you repack so everything fits, da? And get you a clean sippy to take?”
“M’kay…” Shane hesitates a moment. “Woof didn’t really want to see the airport… He’s kinda scared of flying.”
“Let’s make sure he’s packed away nice and safe then.”
“M’kay… Um, Daddy?”
“Yes, malysh?”
“Can I also bring panda plate?”
“Yes,” Ilya laughed. “We can pack panda plate for you, too.”
“M’kay… And Daddy?”
“Yes, malysh?”
“Maybe um… maybe my hockey fork… and my hockey spoon too?”
“Yes, we can pack your hockey fork and spoon too.”
Ilya would pack whatever Shane asked for, even if it meant shipping the whole playroom to Montreal and buying everything again to keep in Boston.
Maybe one day, they’d be able to live together and not have to worry about needing two of everything. Maybe one day, they’d have a shared master closet with all of Shane’s clothes and not just a few t-shirts. Maybe one day, Ilya would get to stop saying goodbye at the airport.
He knew it wouldn’t be anytime soon… but maybe one day.