Work Text:
“I’m Shane Hollander.”
“I’m Ilya Rozanov.”
“And we’re in a box,” Shane finished the intro they had been given, slapping the wall of the box they were in lightly.
They were pressed together into the three-sided box, the open side facing a rolling camera. They’d been sent a video of couples in the same box they were in, on a first date for 12 hours. They had agreed to do 2 hours as a part of a press circuit after they’d come out as a couple.
“Is box smaller?” Ilya asked one of the behind-the-scenes workers.
They shook their head. “You guys are just bigger than most people that go in the box.”
Ilya shifted, leaning against the corner he was closest to. He threw his outstretched leg over Shane’s, their ankles crossing. Shane looked over at his boyfriend, smiling shyly. PDA was completely new with the other man. Shane had thought they would’ve been halting with their touches at first, but it was so easy with Ilya.
Ilya smiled back at him, unfairly handsome in the comfortable lighting of the box.
“Two hours in box with Shane Hollander,” Ilya started, a gentle tease surrounding the way he said his boyfriend’s name. “And no sex?”
Shane nudged Ilya’s shoulder with his own. “No, Ilya.”
“Because we are not being paid for sex video,” Ilya reasoned, nodding a little.
“We wouldn’t do a sex video, paid or not,” Shane stressed to the camera, shaking his head slightly.
Ilya just shrugged.
“What are we supposed to do in box for hours?” Ilya asked, still looking like he was thinking about fucking Shane. “Can we have cards?”
“What do you wanna play?”
“Poker,” Ilya said, as if it were obvious. “Strip poker, Hollander. Pass time. Give me something pretty to look at, besides face.”
“I’m not playing strip poker.”
“We play,” Ilya said, nodding to himself. “Stop at underwear. You have modeled them before, is no different.”
“I don’t know how to play poker.”
“Your locker room is boring.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Is true. I am worst,” Ilya agreed with exaggeration, grinning a little. “Why do you love me, Shane Hollander?”
“I mean… you’re really good at hockey.”
“You love me because hockey?” Ilya repeated, playing up the offense for their audience of crew members and for the camera. Ilya, whether he liked it or not, was great in front of a camera, painfully charismatic.
“I like the way I feel when I’m with you. I feel like I’m actually myself,” Shane said, voice going soft at the end, shy awareness of the camera creeping in. Ilya reached out and slid his fingers along Shane’s jaw, ending under his chin. Ilya closed the distance, pressing their lips together in a surprisingly chaste kiss.
Ilya sat back, leaning against the wall again. “Alright, no poker.”
Shane exhaled softly, still looking at his boyfriend.
How was he going to survive two hours in such close proximity to the other man without jumping his bones or allowing Ilya to jump him? His mom was going to see this.
It was going to be a long two hours.