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“Shane, pick up your toys, please. It’s time for lunch.”
“Daaaadddyyyyy, I wanna keep playing,” Shane whined, sitting amongst a growing pile of toys, books, and puzzles as he moved from one activity to the next.
“You can get your toys back out after lunch, but right now it’s time to clean up.” Shane glared at him but started picking up his toys, albeit moving at a snail’s pace.
Ilya’s phone buzzed in his pocket again. His brother had been calling all morning and had put him in a terrible mood. Even having moved to Ottawa now, his time with Shane was limited due to their schedules; his time with little Shane even more so as it didn’t make sense to have him drop when they only had a couple hours together. Of course his brother would choose this morning to reach out to beg for money again. Ilya had told himself he’d stop sending it, but he struggled to say no when there was even a hint of it being for his niece (which Alexei expertly exploited).
It did not help that Shane had been whiny and bratty all morning. Ilya typically didn’t mind, and often found it cute, but the culmination of everything was wearing on his nerves. Stepping back into the living room to see Shane had only piled his toys in the center of the floor instead of putting them away, he had to take a few deep breaths.
“Shane—” he started calmly, before he stepped on several Lego pieces still on the floor, cracking his resolve. “Blyat’! I said to pick up your toys!” Ilya yelled, hopping on one foot and prying off a brick that had stuck to the bottom of the other.
A choked sound came from Shane before the boy took off sprinting from the room.
Fuck.
Ilya can’t believe himself. Always so careful with his little boy, he can’t believe he let himself end up here. Shit. He needed to get a hold of himself if he was going to have any chance of fixing this—not that he would blame Shane if he walked out the door and never wanted to see him again. Shane had trusted Ilya to provide a safe space for him, and Ilya had broken that trust. Fuck.
Deep breaths, in and out. Thumbing at his cross to ground him.
Ilya didn’t believe in a God, but he knew his mama was watching over him. So, he brought the cross to his mouth, kissed it, and prayed to her instead. Please help me, Mama, I can’t lose him too.
Another deep breath, in and out, then Ilya moved to find where his Shane had run off to.
Ilya finds Shane in his playroom. He has somehow managed to fit himself under the daybed in the corner, his stuffies lining the gap, creating a wall of protection to hide him there. As Ilya tries to find the words to apologize to his little boy, he glances around and sees Rozy Bear sitting in the corner, facing the wall on the other side of the room. His heart shatters at the sight. The only blessing is that he appears to have been placed there and not thrown, so maybe there’s hope.
After retrieving the bear from its time-out spot, hoping it will provide him with some comfort through this, he approaches the end of the bed and sits on the floor—the muffled sniffles like daggers to his soul.
“Shane—” he begins, not quite sure if his boy will even listen to him right now. “I would like to apologize, can you come out so we can talk?”
Nothing happens beyond the continued soft cries. Ilya sends up another silent prayer.
“Please, Shane. I’m sorry I yelled; that was not nice of me.”
A shuffling, before Saucer is gently pushed aside from the wall of stuffies, allowing Shane to peek out from the newly made opening. His eyes red, his freckles tear-streaked, and his lower lip quivering.
“I too much?” Shane whispered out fearfully. Ilya had been berated, teased, put down, and yelled at on numerous occasions, but those three words were the worst ones to ever be directed toward him. Ilya had never felt like more of a failure than right now.
“No,” he quickly assured. “No, Shane. You are not too much. Never too much, malysh. The rest of the world right now, that’s a bit too much. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”
Soft brown eyes look up into Ilya’s; the scarce eye contact that Ilya holds so dear every time he is graced with it. After a moment, Shane begins carefully moving his stuffie army out of the way so he can emerge from under the bed and kneel in front of him.
“Not too much?” Shane asks again.
“No, not too much,” Ilya puts every ounce of regret and sincerity behind his answer. “Daddy should have let you know he was having a not-so-great day instead of yelling like that. It wasn’t fair to direct that at you and I’m so sorry. I promise—pinky promise—that I won’t yell at you like that again and will do better to talk to you, da? Can you forgive me?”
Shane furrowed his brow in confusion. Ilya quickly tried to replay what he’d said in his head, wondering if he’d messed up the English translation anywhere.
“Daddy, you don’t let me do pinkies when I yell?”
Is that what confused Shane? He’s not wrong. Even though they often use pinky promises for small things, they still treat them as very serious promises. Ilya will never let Shane make a pinky promise that he won’t yell again, because of course he will. He’s little, and beyond that, human, and sometimes emotions will get the better of him; Ilya knows that. So of course, he won’t let him make a pinky promise he’s bound to break.
“No… No, Daddy doesn’t let you pinky promise when you yell. Little boys yell sometimes, so no pinkies for something that will most likely happen again.”
“So, Daddy can’t do pinkies either. In case it happens again on accident,” Shane reasons. His sweet, sweet boy. “Is okay, I know how to fix.”
“You do?” Ilya has no idea where Shane is going with this, but the fact that he’s even talking to him is a win that he is desperately clinging to.
“Yep! When I yell, I get spanked.”
“You want to spank me?” If this situation weren’t so devastating, Ilya would have laughed.
“Uh-huh. Then all done. Forgiven.”
“Okay,” Ilya quickly agrees, overcome with emotion hearing the words he always tells Shane repeated back to him. Then the realization hits. When little, Shane often has no concept of his true size and strength, forgetting he’s a pro athlete built of solid muscle. If Shane had ever spanked anyone before, that would be news to him. This was bound to be interesting.
Shane stands to sit on the bed, patting his thighs. “Lay on lap, Daddy.”
Ilya does so, taking Rozy Bear with him, resigning himself to his fate.
“Um… Actually, Daddy, you should just lay on the bed.” Shane states, pushing Ilya lightly off his lap. “You’re heavy.”
Another chuckle builds in his chest at Shane’s declaration. The overarching guilt from yelling is the only thing keeping it from surfacing.
“Okay malysh, I’ll lay on the bed.” Ilya tries to relax, knowing that Shane will not wait for him to do so or even know it’s best to. He still jumps when Shane goes to rub a hand over his ass but otherwise succeeds in releasing the tension in his lower half.
“Um…. Actually, Daddy, wait here.” Shane moves to leave the room. “I don’t think I’m strong enough; I need help.”
Oh God! He was going to get the spoon. Ilya had only pulled out the spoon a handful of times over the years when Shane had been extra bratty, or actually done something semi-dangerous when little. It was something he primarily reserved for Shane when he was big and had done extensive testing on his own body before ever letting it touch Shane’s skin to make sure he wouldn’t actually harm him.
If Shane was under the impression his own hand would not be strong enough to deliver the swats, Ilya was certain this spoon was about to be broken over his ass. It’s really no less than he deserves though, having hurt Shane the way he did; he feels he should be subject to this and ten times more. Still clutching onto the stuffed bear, he takes a few deep breaths in preparation to keep his body pliable.
Shane returns carrying the dreaded wooden spoon, and Ilya swears he sees a glint of mirth in his little boy’s eyes. Oh God.
“Okay, Daddy, ready,” Shane starts, sounding absolutely adorable for someone about to cause so much pain. “Malysh is going to spank you, Daddy, for yelling, kay?”
“Okay,” Ilya replies as Shane raises the spoon high above his head.
“Oh wait,” Shane stops again, the suspense is almost worse than what’s about to come. “Word Daddy, you has to say you know the word.”
“Buffalo?” Ilya questions, not sure if that’s what Shane was getting at.
“Yes, is this buffalo, Daddy?”
How sweet Shane was. Of course, the buffalo moment had passed. He should have said it earlier when the morning started and talked to Shane about what was going on. Now he must face the consequences of his actions.
“No, malysh, not a buffalo moment.”
One more deep breath, and the spoon is brought down. A wide arc of Shane’s arm ending in a light tap that Ilya barely even feels. Four more times, Shane raised the spoon high to swing it down with little to no force behind it.
“Okay Daddy, you has to cry now.”
“Cry?”
“I only know my numbers to five, so you has to cry now. Then we can hug and be all done.”
Ilya was shocked to feel actual tears rolling down his cheeks. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be loved by Shane. How easily his Shane could forgive him after his horrendous error—one he should have been made to suffer for much more than this. But here was his sweet boy just wanting cuddles now despite the rocky start to their day.
“Khvatit, khvatit. Shhh, shhh, shhh. All done now.” Shane whispers, patting him lightly on the back in a soothing gesture.
Ilya sits up, pulling Shane to straddle his lap so he can wrap him up in his arms.
“YA tebya lyublyu, malysh. I’m so sorry.”
“YA tebya lyublyu too Daddy,” Shane replied, butchering the Russian pronunciation; adorable as always. “Can we go has lunch now? I hungry.”
Ilya couldn’t stop the laugh this time, overcome by his boy’s cuteness. He drew a thumb across the freckles on his cheek before placing a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Of course, malysh. Let’s go.”
Shane jumped up from Ilya’s lap, reaching for his stuffed penguin, Wing, on the floor.
“Ah, ah, ah. It’s time for stuffies to have Zamboni Intermission. You can bring them down after lunch.”
Shane gave a small pout but didn’t argue. Instead, he placed Wing on the bed next to Rozy Bear, positioning them to appear like they were hugging. Ilya’s tears fell harder at the sight.
Thank you, mama, he thought, thumbing once more at the cross around his neck. Then Shane grabbed his hand to drag him downstairs for lunch.