Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Before the 2025 Austin Major — just before everything boiled over between Nikola and Ilya.

It really started the day Ilya "m0nesy" joined Falcons. Not long after joining, Nikola pulled Ilya aside, saying he wanted to talk — just the two of them. What was supposed to be a normal conversation turned into something else fast. Nikola stepped closer, too close, and told Ilya he still believed there was something between them. That maybe, deep down, Ilya joined Falcons because of that. Because of him. He smiled and said he was genuinely happy they were finally on the same team again.

But Ilya froze. He pushed back — not just physically, but emotionally. He denied everything. Told Nikola to stop, to back off to let it go.
He even tried to walk away, tried to shove Nikola aside to escape that moment. But Nikola didn't move. He blocked him, not aggressively, just firmly — unwilling to let go.

That's when he said it
"Let's talk about this again at the Major."
A sudden idea, maybe desperation. There was no time for this now, the tournament was close and they both had to focus.
It wasn't the right moment not yet.

Ilya didn't say much just nodded like he was brushing it off.
Nikola took it as a yes.

From that day on, Nikola was counting down. Every practice, every message, every scrim... it was just passing time until the Major because in his mind, the Major wasn't just about CS or winning the biggest tournament, it was about finally getting that answer.

When bootcamp got announced Nikola could barely hide how excited he was everyone on the team was coming together in one place, including Ilya. Finally.
He packed early, took the first flight, skipped sleep... he didn't even bother settling into his hotel room just dropped his bags and went straight to the meeting point

Nikola wasn't here to wait. was here to see him.

When Nikola walked into the room, he immediately saw Ilya sitting across the table. Their eyes met and suddenly Nikola felt a tight knot in his stomach — part embarrassment, part surprise. Ilya didn't look away though instead, he seemed like he was trying to say something without words. For minutes they just stared at each other silently.

Ilya's eyes were glowing and there was this faint smile on his lips it wasn't cold, it wasn't fake either.
After the meeting the coaches told them to head back to the hotel and rest — full practice would start tomorrow everyone started packing up, chatting, leaving in groups but Ilya stayed behind.
He was stalling. clearly didn’t want to be the first one out.

Later that night at the hotel things got weird
Apparently, due to some last-minute room shuffling Nikola and Ilya were told they'd have to share a room. Just for there night. Staff said it couldn't be changed. 

When Nikola and Ilya were told they had to share a hotel room for three days, the tension snapped like a live wire. Nikola's face twisted in disbelief.

Ilya, with a sharp voice
“Are you fucking kidding me? Three whole days? Sharing a room with YOU? No way!”

Nikola crossed his arms, his jaw tight
“Look, it’s not my fault the hotel messed up don’t shoot the messenger.”

Ilya laughed bitterly
“You always find a way to dodge responsibility just like when you left the team.” Nikola’s eyes flashed with anger “and what about you? pretending nothing happened, acting like I'm the bad guy here? Don't you dare put that on me.” Nikola couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

He was furious because he was tired of always being blamed. He was tired of taking all the blame. It was too much…

The room crackled with their rising voices. Ilya stepped closer, face flushed
“You think you're so perfect? you think i forgot all the crap you put us through? shut up Nikola”

Nikola snapped back.
“Don't twist this! you were the one shutting me out. You made me feel like a stranger on my own team—” Ilya interrupted, his voice cracking with frustration “because you abandoned us! You left us hanging and now you want to waltz back in like nothing happened?”

“I just want you to stop pretending like I'm the enemy!” Nikola shouted fists clenched.

They looked at each other and fell silent for a moment. They had been shouting over each other, words sharp and heavy. Realizing how heavy his words were, Ilya threw a hand up, shaking his head.
“Three days in the same room. You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want to be stuck with you, not after everything.”

Nikola stepped forward, close enough for Ilya to feel his breath.
“and I don't want to be stuck with you either, but we don’t get a choice.” Ilya's face twisted with rage “maybe I'll just sleep on the floor, then. Anywhere but next to you.” he made a finger-wagging gesture and walked away.

“Fine!” Nikola snapped back.
“maybe I'll leave early I'm not wasting my time here”

Their voices echoed through the empty hallway as they paced back and forth, neither willing to back down. The argument dragged on, hours feeling like minutes. Both were angry, hurt, and stubborn. At one point, Ilya slammed his fist on the table.
“You never cared about what I wanted. You just did what you thought was best for you.” Nikola's voice dropped filled with bitterness. “Maybe I cared too much. Maybe that’s why I left.”

Their arguments continued. Ilya was still blaming Nikola, but at the same time, he was angry at himself for putting all the burden on Nikola. They went into the room, both standing, just staring at the window. for a long moment, they stared outside, chests heaving, the fight far from over.

The silence that finally settled wasn't peace — it was exhaustion but neither was ready to say sorry yet.

Chapter Text

There was only one bed in the room. Big, soft, looked like a cloud. But there was also a couch wide, deep, and comfy enough for a night. Still the moment both of them noticed the bed their eyes met then darted back to it.
They both wanted it of course they did.

Ilya narrowed his eyes and his voice was calm but under the surface it burned “after all this shit don’t tell me you actually think you’re sleeping there” Nikola let out a long breath through his nose — slow but tired. He didn’t want to fight again he was so fucking tired of it his hand moved to the back of his neck rubbing the tension there before he forced himself to meet Ilya’s stare.
There was a weird silence. Heavy full of tension and then out of nowhere Nikola let out a tiny chuckle just a breathy laugh small and quiet — like it slipped out before he could stop it. He didn’t mean to laugh but he did.

Ilya froze, confused and almost offended “what the fuck are you laughing at? did you lose your mind?”
Nikola leaned back against the wall tilting his head until it rested there one hand dragging through his messy hair like he was trying to pull the stress out of his skull. The chuckle turned into a soft laugh, not loud, not mean, just… sad. A little bitter like he didn’t know what else to do.
“just look at us,” he mumbled with a soft laugh “We’re weeks away from one of the biggest tournaments in our lives… and we’re still... still fighting. Over beds, over everything because you just had to be stubborn.” Ilya blinked slowly most of it didn’t register at first. He heard it but it didn’t hit not until the last part.

His brows pulled together sharply “am I the stubborn?” he barked and took a step forward, voice rising. “are you serious right now? You think I’m the problem? His tone cracked like thunder
“I don’t understand you, Nikola. Yeah. I don’t. You didn’t tell me anything! You stayed quiet shut me out acted like nothing ever happened and never gave me a chance to understand. You left me-” damn it “-you left us. And now you’re standing there like I’m the difficult one?”

Nikola’s eyes lit up, just for a second. Like someone had reached inside him and twisted something tender. That flash of pain wasn’t fake Ilya saw it but it wasn’t just pain. It was regret too.
“I didn’t want to leave” Nikola said quietly, his voice low and tight like every word hurt “I didn’t want to leave you.”
Silence. Thick and suffocating. It settled over the room like fog.

Ilya’s gaze dropped to Nikola’s lips for half a second then back up. Neither of them moved time slowed.
Finally, Ilya took a breath barely steady “Why?” His voice was soft now... cracked “why would you pull me close, make me feel like maybe… maybe we meant something, only to walk away?” his throat tightened, chest ached his eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall.
Nikola took a cautious step forward. One hand lifted, hesitant, fingers reaching toward Ilya’s face — toward the shimmer in his eyes but Ilya reacted fast. He smacked Nikola’s hand away not hard more like an instinct.
Stubborn as always.

Nikola didn’t flinch. He just tried again slower this time and gently brushed away the tear that had escaped. This time Ilya didn’t stop him. He hated it. Hated that Nikola still had that effect on him. Hated how safe he felt in that one small touch but it was too late now. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t need this. didn’t need him.

A few more tears slipped out. Ilya inhaled, then stepped back, trying to shove Nikola away not rough just enough space to breathe but Nikola was faster. He moved in, wrapped an arm around Ilya’s waist, pulled him in close before he could escape. Ilya’s hands landed on Nikola’s chest, pushed slightly but didn’t fight. He stayed there. Breathing unevenly. Frozen in place.

He loved it. He felt safe. God, how long had it been since he felt this safe?
He didn’t want to admit it... had been lying to himself for so long but he couldn’t anymore. He couldn’t run from it.

His nose brushed Nikola’s neck as he breathed him in shakily. “damn it…” he whispered to himself. “why do you smell like heaven…”
Nikola rested his chin lightly on top of Ilya’s head, closing his eyes for a second like he wanted to stay in that moment forever. His fingers grazed Ilya’s back as he stared at the golden strands of his hair catching the soft light from the window.
Ilya smiled faintly against his chest, warmth blooming in his stomach but then quickly leaned back, flustered, trying to regain control again.

Nikola let him step back, but his hand stayed loosely on Ilya’s waist. Even with that small distance between them, they were still close. Too close. Ilya could feel Nikola’s breath against his skin.
That kind of closeness made his heart race.
Time had stopped. It felt magical. Being wrapped up in Nikola’s arms like that, it reminded Ilya of how small he felt sometimes. How overwhelming everything was. And yet, when Nikola held him, all of it faded for a second. He liked that. He craved it.

But Nikola noticed the tension in Ilya’s body, and slowly pulled his hand away. “Sorry…” he said softly. “I just... I didn’t want to see you cr-” “Shut up Nikola,” Ilya whispered.
And then, without waiting for permission, he leaned in and kissed him.

Ilya’s lips met Nikola’s in a way that didn’t feel planned it wasn’t neat or soft or slow it was raw. desperate. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission, just took like it had been waiting too long.
Nikola stilled at first, breath caught in his throat but then his hands found Ilya’s waist again, holding tight like he’d been drowning and just now broke the surface. He leaned into the kiss with a quiet groan, like his chest had been holding that sound for months.

Ilya's fingers curled into the fabric of Nikola’s shirt, gripping tight, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hold him close or push him away again but he didn’t let go. their mouths moved like they knew each other like muscle memory but there was something clumsy about it too. Hungry. Slightly frantic... Lips brushing, parting, meeting again. a pause then Ilya tilted his head, exhaled sharply through his nose, and kissed harder. He was losing his breath. Kissing Nikola like he was trying to devour him like he needed to consume him to make up for all the time they lost. His mouth moved over Nikola’s like it was the only thing keeping him alive, borderline feral greedy, open-mouthed, his tongue licking deep like he couldn’t get enough.

Nikola’s thoughts blurred into white noise. He thinks I don’t feel anything. That I hate him. That he means nothing to me. And in that moment Nikola hated himself for letting Ilya ever think that. For staying silent too long. For letting his pride come before this before them. His hands slid up Ilya’s back, slow and firm, dragging his fingertips along the dips of his spine, feeling the shiver that ran through him. He pulled Ilya closer until there was no space left between them  only heat, and tension, and the sound of Ilya moaning softly into his mouth.

Those sounds... Nikola didn’t realize how much he missed them. Every breathy noise Ilya made went straight to his chest and lower. He pressed in, lips locked to Ilya’s and gently tugged on his bottom lip, sucking slow. Not rough, not teasing — just aching, just needing

Ilya gasped, eyes fluttering shut but he didn’t pull back instead he grabbed a fistful of Nikola’s hair threading his fingers through it tugging just enough to make Nikola groan. Not enough to hurt just enough to say don’t stop.

Nikola laughed against his mouth, low and breathless. “God, I missed this…” Ilya didn’t answer he didn’t need to just kissed him again deeper this time — slow but firm, tongue brushing against his with perfect rhythm. The kind of kiss that left his head spinning and knees weak. He leaned in fully now, pressing his chest into Nikola’s, melting into the warmth of him. No more hesitation. His body just gave in.

They stumbled slightly, bumping into the edge of the couch and Nikola sat down pulling Ilya down with him without breaking the kiss. Ilya ended up straddling his lap, breathless, heart pounding, hands flat on Nikola’s shoulders as he looked down at him. For a moment, they just stared faces flushed, lips swollen and wet eyes dark and wild and full of things they weren’t ready to say out loud.
Then Ilya leaned in again, slower this time. The kiss melted into something deeper. More intimate. Less about hunger and more about remembering. About feeling. Nikola’s hands gripped his thighs now, holding him close like he was scared he might disappear again.

Ilya’s fingers moved down Nikola’s jawline, thumb brushing slowly along the edge of his mouth. Tracing the shape of it. Feeling the slight dampness left from the kiss. He leaned in closer, letting his mouth hover — just for a second — before brushing soft kisses at the corners of Nikola’s lips. Then along his jaw. Then up, slowly, just beneath his ear. He could feel Nikola’s breath stutter. His pulse under the skin. The heat pouring off him.

And Ilya smiled against his neck. Then whispered, voice low and cracked and dangerous “you always do this to me…” Nikola swallowed hard “What?”
“Make me forget I fucking hate you.”
Nikola let out a broken, breathy laugh and rested his forehead against Ilya’s, their noses brushing. “You don’t.”
Ilya didn’t argue. He just kissed him again. Slower this time. Softer. Like saying I know. Like a confession slipping between their mouths.

Their bodies stayed pressed close — heat building slow and steady, not frantic anymore. Just lips meeting again and again. Tongues brushing. Fingers digging into clothes. Everything felt like a rediscovery like finding something they thought was lost forever.

Ilya kissed him like he wanted to memorize him like he didn’t trust this to last but still needed to soak in every second Nikola’s hands moved up cradling his back, moving in slow circles as their mouths kept moving. They breathed into each other — harsh, messy breaths between kisses that never fully stopped.

Time blurred.
By the time they finally pulled apart, both of them were panting. Cheeks flushed lips kiss-bitten and red sweat clung to their skin. Ilya stayed in Nikola’s lap, forehead pressed against his shoulder now, hands still holding onto him like he was the only real thing in the world.

Nikola’s hands didn’t move from his waist. Didn’t loosen.

Didn’t let go and
neither of them said anything
they didn’t have to.

Nikola’s hands had a mind of their own. They moved slowly at first exploring, learning again every inch of Ilya’s body like it was sacred like it was something he hadn’t been allowed to touch for years and now couldn’t believe he had in his arms. His palms slid down Ilya’s sides memorizing the dips and lines, the heat radiating through the thin fabric of his shirt. He let his fingertips brush across every shape, every curve. He wasn’t in a rush.

He wanted to feel everything

God, he was starting to get addicted to it.

He loved the way Ilya tensed under his touch at first, just a little and then softened, exhaled, gave in. It was like Ilya was letting him in without words, letting his body say I want you. I trust you. Nikola’s thumbs pressed into his waist, dragging up and down, lazy and slow. He couldn’t stop touching him.
But then Ilya shifted.

His hands slid under Nikola’s shirt just the tips of his fingers brushing bare skin at first. It was barely a touch just enough to make Nikola’s stomach clench and his breath hitch. Ilya paused for a second, like he was giving him a chance to stop him but Nikola didn’t move. His eyes just stayed locked on Ilya’s. So Ilya pushed further. His palms flattened against Nikola’s torso fingers spreading out and dragging upward under the fabric. Slowly. Teasingly. As if he was feeling him sculpted from heat and bone and muscle. He lifted Nikola’s shirt with every movement, and Nikola just let him. His head tilted back against the couch, lips parted, breath shaky.

Nikola looked down at him watched the way Ilya’s eyes darkened, focused on the skin he was revealing inch by inch. He swallowed hard.
“Ilya…” he breathed quiet but rough.

Ilya didn’t answer. Not yet. He kept going, hands sliding over Nikola’s ribs, his chest, up toward his shoulders. He peeled the shirt up and over, finally pulling it off completely and tossing it somewhere behind the couch without even looking.
Then his hands came back gentle but firm, tracing Nikola’s bare skin like it was something precious like he’d missed it. he wanted to map every inch of it with his fingertips. His touch was slow, unhurried. He slid down from his chest to his stomach, over the sharp lines of his abs, then back up again fingers dancing, learning him. He slid his palms down the center of Nikola’s chest, across his stomach — slow strokes that made his muscles tense under the touch. He paused at the edge of Nikola’s waistband, fingers ghosting just above the line.

And then… he moved lower.
Nikola couldn’t stop staring. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until Ilya looked up at him.
There was something steady in his eyes. No hesitation. Just want. Just clarity.
Nikola blinked, needing to be sure. “Do you… do you know what you’re doing?”
Ilya’s lips curved into the faintest smirk  not playful, not cocky. Just sure. Grounded. He leaned in close, breath brushing Nikola’s neck and murmured
“You remember how we were arguing earlier? About who gets to sleep in that bed?”
He pulled back just enough to meet Nikola’s eyes again. That same calm heat was still there.

“I think we both know the answer now,” he added, his voice barely a whisper but full of meaning.

His chest tightened. Then Ilya leaned in again, and his lips brushed across Nikola’s collarbone warm and slow. A kiss here, then lower. Then lower still. His hands were still moving too, trailing everywhere, exploring skin like he’d never seen it before.

Nikola’s head fell back, a quiet gasp escaping him. He wasn’t used to being touched like this with heat that didn’t just burn but lingered. He could feel Ilya’s mouth at his throat now, his hands slipping around his back, nails gently digging in. Everything in him was fire and tension and want.

They weren’t saying much anymore. They didn’t need to. Every movement was loud enough. And somewhere between the kisses and gasps and whispered curses
Nikola realized something terrifying and beautiful

Ilya wasn’t trying to prove anything.
He was just there  fully, completely, with no defenses left
And fuck, Nikola wanted him even more for it.