Just a Cough

Shane is sick, but he doesn't have time to think about it. He's pushed through pain before and he'll do it again. But if you don't choose a time to recover, your body chooses it for you, and Ilya starts to worry when Shane isn't picking up his phone.

Work Text:

Shane coughed. Again. It had been sticking around for days now, seeming to still be getting worse rather than better. He wanted to take a few days to sleep it off, or even just an afternoon, but during the season he just didn’t have that kind of time. There was working out alone, working out with the team, team practice, personal practice, fulfilling the requirements of his sponsors, having team meetings, going over game footage to find strengths and weaknesses in themselves and whatever team they were up against next.

And when it came to his limited freetime, there of course was-

“We are going to a waterfall? That is the most exciting thing in all of Canada?”

Shane coughed into his elbow then turned back to the phone. “Not a waterfall, the Falls. It’s considered one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. People travel from everywhere to see it.”

“Uh-huh.” Ilya’s voice was slightly distant, likely on speaker while he got dressed for his own team practice. “A very big waterfall.”

“Every American journalist for the next year is going to ask you if you’ve been to the falls now that you’ve moved to Canada, might as well be able to say yes.”

“Would be more funny to tell them I don’t know what it is.”

Shane snorted and he could practically feel Ilya’s satisfaction over the phone for having “won” the fight by making Shane laugh first. Most of their ‘fights’ were Ilya picking a hill to die on just to watch Shane stubbornly defend it.

“Either you can go with me, or you can have my parents drag you there, and I guarantee my dad will buy you one of those Canadian flag hats and make you wear it. And then some tourist is going to get a picture, and everyone in the world will see it. Plus there’s shops, restaurants, hotels…”

There was rustling from the other end of the phone as Ilya pulled some piece of clothing on and Shane tried to sneak another cough while he was distracted, wincing at the sharp pain of it.

“Still have your cold?”

Shane groaned. “Yes, it’s the worst. I’ve been coughing so much my abs are sore. I didn’t even know that could happen.”

“You see what happens when you do not take vitamin C when you travel?”

“One time I forget, and I get sick. You never do and you never get sick, it’s not fair.”

“Guess I am just better than you.” The sound of sneakers on tile came, meaning Ilya was about to head out and their time was again over. They would text before bed, but they were usually too tired to do much more than that. “You going to take it easy today?”

“The chirping would never end if the captain took off because he had a cold.” They’d already been sneaking children’s cough syrup into his bag and yelling that ‘grandpa is ready for his nap’ anytime Shane took a second to catch his breath.

A door opened on the other side of the phone. “Well, text me when you get home then try to sleep early tonight, yeah? Need you healthy for our very exciting day of standing and looking at a waterfall.”

“Keep complaining and the entire ride down I’m reading you facts about the hydroelectric system.”

“You aren’t even interested in whatever those words mean.”

Shane could picture Ilya now, car door open leaning against it but not getting in so they could keep talking. Smiling that soft smile so few people got to see.

Shane, for his part, was in his front hall with one shoe on.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m willing to torture us both. And if you behave while we’re there, I’ll reward you after.”

Ilya groaned. “Hollander, you are making it very difficult to hang up the phone.”

Shane closed his eyes, not wanting to hang up either. Not wanting this to be the last time he heard Ilya’s voice today. But, duty called.

“I’ll text you when I’m home, you do the same. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Paka-paka.” And then they both hit End and it was time to leave the fantasy and get on with reality. Shane coughed hard again when he got into his car, already feeling winded. This would be a long day.

It was only with a lifetime of training up to this point that Shane was able to push through the day. Mental toughness was one of the most important things to get an athlete from good to great, and Shane could push through just about anything when he had to. He’d played on a fractured foot, hidden bruised ribs so he didn’t get benched, knowingly popped stitches in order to get a shot he needed. That was just the life he led.

If I can do it for one second I can do it for another. Just get from one second to the next, that’s all I have to do.

Shut down. Focus in. Plenty of time to hurt later.

When practice was finally, finally, over, Shane took a minute to let himself cough as much as he needed, spitting into the trash can and wiping his mouth. His chest hurt, his throat hurt, his lungs hurt. He felt childish for thinking it, but he just wanted to go home.

The coach gave him a firm pat on the shoulder as he walked past.

“Way to hustle out there, Hollander. You set an example any captain should be proud of. Skill only gets you so far, it’s that drive and tenacity that makes you the best of the best.”

Despite feeling absolutely run down and miserable, Shane smiled at the coach and followed him into the changing room. Being someone that people could be proud of, proving he was worth their time, that was what mattered.

Hayden gave him a pat on the shoulder as he walked by, coach pointing to Shane and saying, “You see that? No whining, no excuses, you get the job done and you do it right.”

There was no children’s cough syrup in his bag when he left.

Shane rode that high until he was about halfway home, when the coughing came back harder than before, making his eyes water so much he had to drive with one hand and keep swiping at his eyes with the other. Breathing hurt. He was tired. He just wanted the day to be over.

He would skip his evening run. He’d go home, make his protein shake, text his parents, text Ilya, clean his protein shake bottle, clean his water bottle, put his clothes in the hamper, shower, and then hopefully sleep off whatever bug he couldn’t shake.

He was coughing again as he walked in the door when something suddenly felt… Wrong. He was breathing in but it felt like he was suddenly breathing through a straw. He coughed again and headed to the kitchen, hoping a glass of water would help, when a sharp, agonizing pain spiked through his chest. Shane grabbed onto the counter to steady himself, trying to breathe through the pain, the weakness, the whatever the hell else was happening.

Shane was hyperventilating now. He knew that was bad, that he needed deep breaths, but his body just wasn’t listening. His face and fingers began to tingle, noises were muffled and far away, skin clammy, his brain listening to him even less than his body. He knew there was something he should do, something to get help, but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t make his hands work as he tried to grab onto the back of a chair to get to… Something. Anything.

His vision tunneled. His legs gave out. His cheek was pressed against cold tile.

Somewhere, his phone buzzed. And then again. And again.

Shane wasn’t sure how much time passed, or how conscious he was at any given moment. He was tired. He hurt. He could hardly breathe. A deeper sleep gnawed at him, pulling him closer, but he fought it. Letting go would be bad. At the moment he couldn’t put together why it would be, but he knew down to his core that there was a reason there and it was more important than anything else.

The buzz kept him grounded, was one thing that was real to hold onto. Shane couldn’t grasp as he floated what it meant, but he clung to it as best he could when the current threatened to sweep him further from shore.

A sound came. Not the buzz of the phone this time, something else. Metal on metal. A lock clicking open, a door creaking, footsteps.

“Hollander?” Ilya, that was Ilya. That was good. Ilya was good. “You get lost in your walk-in closet or something?” The light tone sounded forced. Ilya was worried. That wasn’t good. Shane didn’t like when Ilya was worried.

The footsteps got closer.

“Oh god.” The words came out weak, broken. “Shane!”

Warm, familiar hands turned Shane onto his back. That was right, he was on the ground.

“Fuck, fuck, god no, please, no…” Those hands trembled as they cradled his face, stroked back his hair with aching tenderness. “Please, please Shane, god, please, please.” Now it was Ilya who sounded like he was hyperventilating. Shane wanted to comfort Ilya, but he was lost somewhere drifting inside himself.

Fingers fumbled under his jaw, feeling around desperately at his throat until they found what they were looking for and Ilya let out a cross between a sigh of relief and a choked sob.

“Thank god, thank god, fuck, thank god…” And then Shane wasn’t laying on the floor anymore, his cheek resting against a shoulder he’d lain against hundreds of times. Shaking hands stroked his hair, his back, his face. Ilya was so warm and Shane just wanted to stay right here forever.

“It’s ok, it’s ok, you’re ok, everything is going to be ok, I got you, I got you.” A hand disappeared and when Ilya spoke again, he seemed to be doing his best to shut down all he was feeling. So, it wasn’t to Shane, then. Ilya only did that with other people now. He didn’t hide himself from Shane.

The words were a jumbled mess. Ambulance, not waking up, not moving, barely breathing, I don’t know what to do, please help him…

Something unintelligible came back over the phone and the arms came back around Shane, Ilya’s face pressed to his hair.

“Help’s coming, it’s going to be ok, you’re going to be ok, it’s just a little longer, I promise.” He took in another trembling breath. Ilya’s calloused thumb stroked over Shane’s cheek, across the pattern of freckles he seemed to love so much. Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane’s forehead, breath hitching.

“Please not him, not him, anything just not him…”

More sounds, more commotion, Shane was back to laying on the floor, Ilya no longer touching him. Something was on his face, he was moving, and that was the last thing he remembered.