Shane's voice fades and his eyes drift somewhere far away. "I knew they'd be OK. It's ok, Ilya. Everything is ok." He takes Ilya's arm and puts it over his shoulders. He places a soft kiss to Ilya's chest over his t-shirt.
"Thought they might...yell? Freak out? You know, because it's me. Your big, bad, Russian rival." He squeezes Shane's shoulders and kisses the top of his head. Shane hums, sounding content. Ilya reads the conversation twice more before they hear a car horn outside.
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