Chapter Text
When Ilya first moved into his home in Ottawa, he didn’t put much thought into the condominium corporation. He had an HOA for his penthouse in Boston, and it seemed to mostly just be for collecting facilities fees. He was aware there were a few more rules in a residential neighborhood, but he let Shane read through the paperwork and schedule maintenance services to maintain anything needed to comply. Five years later, most of those services continued. All of them, except for the front lawn services.
Three years ago, David had pulled a muscle in his back, and was on bed rest for three weeks. In that time, Ilya had taught himself how to mow the lawn after David bemoaned it getting away from him. He came over and did it once a week durring the recovery, and in the last week, Shane just so happened to be watching from inside. As soon as Ilya finished, Shane announced they were going home early, and that was how Ilya realized domestic manual labor turned Shane on.
In their last year of distance, Ilya made sure to cancel the front lawn service any time Shane was in town. 20 minutes of slutting himself out on the front yard April-November earned him a delightful afternoon of fun every time, and Ilya felt like he had cracked a cheat code on life. After they were married, the front lawn service was reserved for travel weeks only. At some point Shane had certainly caught on to Ilya, but still indulged him in the little game they had developed.
One warm spring night, they were sitting out on their front porch, enjoying a moment of peace before the playoffs. They chatted with each other about nothing, watching the neighborhood kids ride their bikes up and down the street, and calling out to the occasional familiar face that strolled by. One was their elderly next door neighbor, Mrs. Rhoda, who always stopped to chat with them and let Ilya play with her tiny Italian greyhound Kermit.
“How are you tonight, Mrs. Rhoda,” Shane asked her. Ilya was already on his knees, letting the ridiculous little thing jump and lick his face. Anya looked on from Shane’s lap, never seeming to know what to do with the tiny dog. Ilya worried about the eldery woman often, but she was spunky, and showed no signs of ending her evening walks around the block no matter how long they took her.
“Oh just fine dear, but I have a bone to pick with that condo corp president.”
“Oh?” Shane asked. The neighborhood organization had quite the reputation, though Shane and Ilya were yet to receive a complaint.
“My grandson usually comes up from Perth to cut my lawn once a week, but his new work schedule has his routine all messed up. I guess it was too long, and there were complaints about my grass length.”
Both Shane and Ilya turned to study the neighboring lawn, which looked to be a completely normal length.
“I will start cutting your grass when I cut ours, Mrs. Rhoda, we never get complaints,” Ilya said. “We can add you to our service too for when we travel.”
“No no honey, you do not have to do that,” she pleaded. Ilya waved her off.
“Is nothing, besides, my husband likes when I am put to good use,” he said, throwing a wink at her. She grinned and winked back. “Double duty will work in my favor I think.”
Shane rolled his eyes and smiled. “Yes, let him do it Mrs. Rhoda, it is no trouble at all.”
“I do have one payment request,” Ilya said.
“Ilya!” Shane said horrified. “She is not paying us!”
Ilya ignored Shane. “Ten extra minutes of Kermit time for every lawn mowed.”
Mrs. Rhoda threw her head back and laughed. “I’m sure that can be arranged, honey. I’m sure we can work something out.”
For the rest of May, Ilya diligently mowed both lawns. He was delighted to find that much to his suspicions, any excitement that had warn off with the routine for Shane was reinvigorated by Ilya’s good deed towards their neighbor.
He only missed their scheduled time once, when helping Yuna rearrange her basement storage ran long. The next morning, he was working on his lawn (after being sure to rouse Shane and open the bedroom window that overlooked it, of course), when the neighborhood president went knocking on Mrs. Rhoda’s door. She answered, and Ilya could not hear them over the machine, but saw her gesturing to him. He killed the motor, and walked over. “Everything ok?” He asked.
“I was just telling Mrs. Rhoda here that her grass has passed one and a half inches,” the president said, pulling out a tape measure to show in dead seriousness. Ilya took him in. He was a short, mousy man, and his eyes shifted all over Ilya rapidly.
“Ah, is my fault. I usually mow Mrs. Rhoda’s lawn, but was held up with my mother-in-law last night. I am just about to do hers.”
“Well I am glad you are here too, Mr. Rozanov, as I need to give both of you citation.”
“Hollander-Rozanov”, Ilya corrected shortly. “And what happens if I get a citation?”
“Well after three citations, you get an infraction.” Ilya didn’t know if an infraction was as meaningless as it sounded, or it was just an English word he did not know, so he took the bright pink paper without arguing and decided to let Shane handle it later. He didn’t have to wait long though, as Shane had heard through the bedroom window and was stomping onto the front lawn in just his running shorts and a tiny tank top.
“Curtis, this is absurd,” Shane said, snatching the papers out of Ilya and Mrs. Rhoda’s hand. “We can mow the lawns faster than we can do a bank transfer.”
“Then I would suggest you do that when it is supposed to happen, and not after you are prompted by a citation,” Curtis, as his name was, chided.
Ilya felt like he was going insane. “I just mowed our lawn, what the hell does it matter?”
“Please watch your language Mr. Rozanov, young children play on this street.”
”Hollander-Rozanov”, Ilya, Shane, and Mrs. Rhoda corrected at the same time.
Curtis, once again, did not acknowledge the correction. “Infractions are based on the time a complaint was filed through the resident portal with photographic evidence, not at the time you receive them,” he said shortly. “Everyone in this neighborhood complies, and you are no exception.”
“What if our grass grows faster than everyone else in the neighborhood,” Ilya said dryly. “Maybe it just senses our green thumbs. How is that fair?”
“I know you two are a big deal in your world,” Curtis mocked. “But there are lots of important people in this neighborhood and you will not be held to a different standard. You will be fined for an infraction like everyone else.”
With that, he marched off.
Ilya stood there dumbfounded. “A fine? What is this? Department of Player Safety?"
Shane glowered. “Equally as inconsistent, except instead of doing it for the safty of someone’s brain, it’s about a millimeter of grass length.
“Hey now, a millimeter of grass length almost killed me once,” Mrs. Rhode said with a straight face she managed to hold for all of five seconds.
Shane thought for a moment.
“Mrs. Rhode, you walk by Curtis’s house every day, right?”
She nodded. “It happens to be Kermit’s favorite toilet.”
Ilya grinned.
Shane stayed serious. “So that means it is not abnormal for you to stand there and bend over the lawn for a few moments every day?”
“It is not, honey. Why? Think I should start bringing a tape measure?”
Shane motioned to give him a moment, and disappeared into their garage. A few minutes later, he reappeared with a salt shaker.
“This is a fertilizer mix I researched for our back lawn,” Shane said, handing her the container. “Anya was on antibiotics last year and it was wreaking havoc on our back yard. This stuff made the grass shoot up so fast that I stopped using it. I think it would be responsible of you as a resident to make sure Kermit’s spots are covered after every time he goes.”
“Oh how kind of you honey,” Mrs. Rhode said. ‘Yes I think this is exactly what Curtis’s yard needs.”
Ilya promptly took Shane home and gave him an incredibly sloppy blowjob that night, and a second one when two weeks later, an update to their condominium corporation code was circulated in the mail.
“Due to a new addendum to code 402.13, all residents will be given a 24 hour grace period between warning and citation for grass length.”
Ilya loved going all out to decorate his home for different holidays, always pulling from the selection of (condominium corporation-cross checked, thank you Shane) decorations in his basement. This year though, he was thrilled to have a new holiday to celebrate.
Shane came home on the first day of June to their front yard path being lined with a variety of little lawn pride flags, complementing their one big progress flag Ilya always proudly hung.
Ilya was on a ladder, stringing a single line of lights along the eves. The strand was white to blend in with the trim, but in the twilight Shane could see the bulbs glittered all different colors. When Ilya saw him, he finished securing the end of the strand and popped down the ladder.
“What do you think, sweetheart?” Ilya bounded over to him
“Cute but classy baby, good job,” Shane said, kissing him on the cheek.
The next morning, they woke to knocking. Ilya groaned, burying his head into his pillow. “I’ll get it,” Shane muttered, pulling on a shirt.
Ilya laid there for a few moments, but eventually the curiosity got the better of him when Shane didn’t immediately return.
“How is this a political statement?” Shane said, agitated. “How is this any different than decorating for a religious holiday?”
“Is this a religious holiday, Mr. Hollander?”
“Hollander-Rozanov!” Shane snapped. “And what if it is?” Ilya appeared next to Shane at the door to find none other than Curtis craning his neck up to Shane, who towered over him with the addition of their front door step.
“Ah, I was just telling your husband here that you two are in violation of a code. No more than one political item on your lawn. You seem to currently have,” Curtis checked his notes, “seventeen.”
“Curtis, let me get this straight,” Ilya said, still half asleep. ”Are you telling me I grow up in Russia, I worry whole time about dangers of being gay, I risk those dangers and my job when I am outed, am only safe after I marry my husband, but am lucky enough to never have formal trouble with tyrannical regime, only to officially be reprimanded by suburban Canadian neighborhood code for the property I own?”
“No one is trying to stop you from being gay Mr. Rozanov,”
“Hollander-Rozanov”
“We just ask that you follow the neighborhood’s bylaws about how you display it.”
“Funny,” Ilya said dryly. “Putin told me the same thing.”
He snatched the bright pink paper from Curtis, slamming the door shut without another word.
Shane stomped through their house, furiously studying the slip. After a few moments, he opened his laptop, and studied the bylaws code. He read for a few more moments, before grabbing a set of car keys.
“Ilya, c’mon. We are going to the store.”
Two hours later, the two of them stood back in their front lawn, garden flags and lights down. Instead, every single one of their 16 massive windows was filled with a pride flag, hung from the inside.
“Now what is going on out here,” their neighbor Willa asked, following her kids racing up the sidewalk on scooters.
“Condominium corporation complaint,” Ilya moaned.
“We got reprimanded for having more than one ‘political display’ on the outside of our home at once,” Shane said shortly. “It’s interesting though, there are no rules about what sort of curtain choices we can use inside our home.”
Ilya grinned at Willa. “He is a genius is he not?”
Willa surveyed the outside. “I was just thinking we need some new window dressings,” she mused. “I think I will be taking some inspiration.
After two weeks and six other neighbors on the street following suite, they received a new policy update in the mail.
“Due to a new addendum to code 219.12, Pride flags no longer count as political imagery.”
Shane Hollander-Rozanov was a passionate birder. It was something he picked up naturally from David, and was able to ID all of the Ottawa species with ease as an adult. One summer day, as they continued the basement cleanout he found a box of birdhouses and feeders from when he was a kid. He spent an afternoon arranging them around all the windows outside the house, so he could watch the activity from the inside at all times.
Every morning for a week, he’d run through his morning workout, make coffee, and then watch the birds. Ilya would usually find him in the living room leaning over the back of the couch, phone in one hand carefully logging every species that flew by. Ilya thought it was adorable. The bliss was short lived.
On day eight, the knock cracked against the door just as Ilya was emerging to join Shane. He groaned, knowing it could only be one person before opening.
“Ah Curtis. Our dear neighbor.” Ilya said shortly.
“Mr…uh….” Curtis’s eyes didn’t seem to make it up past Ilya’s bare chest. They raked down to his low slung sweatpants, before darting back up to Ilya’s pecs.
“Hollander-Rozanov” Ilya supplied, raising his eyebrows.
“Right,” Curtis agreed, distracted. “Could you uh, could you put a shirt on?”
Ilya fought back a grin, suddenly getting a much clearer idea of what had been happening here the last few months.
“You came to MY door at 7 am on a Sunday so you will take me how you get me,” Ilya said, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms, being sure to flex his biceps.
“Right, uh”- Curtis fumbled again.
“Curtis I am flattered, but I need to remind you that I am a married man. Rumor has it that occasionally I’ll kiss others, but not before discussing it with my husband.”
That seemed to turn on the fury in Curtis, and his eyes suddenly snapped to Ilya’s face. It was at that moment that Shane appeared at Ilya’s side.
“I am married too,” Curtis hissed. “To a woman.”
“Ahh, fellow bisexual!” Ilya mock-cheered.
“Ilya,” Shane warned, stepping in front of him. “What do you want Curtis? I’m positive it’s not to get with him.” Ilya waggled his eyebrows at Curtis from behind Shane’s shoulder.
“I’m here about your animal sanctuary, it’s against the code.”
“Animal sanctuary?” Shane questioned, dumbfounded.
“Yes, seeing as you are intentionally feeding and housing wildlife, your little situation in the front yard is an animal sanctuary.”
Shane’s face suddenly fell, for once not having an immediate response to Curtis. All of the fun depleted out of Ilya too, seeing the way Shane’s spirit was crushed.
“Since this is your third citation too,” Curtis continued, having gleefully regained the power in the conversation, “you will be served an infraction. Information is in this packet about how to pay it. I will have you know that each fine after this compounds.” Curtis thrust the papers into Shane’s hands, and marched off without another word.
When the door clicked shut, Ilya genuinely thought Shane might cry.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Ilya comforted, wrapping Shane up in a hug. “Let’s go look at that rule book of yours hmm? I’m sure there is something.”
It took five days and countless hours of research, but Shane still managed to cook up a plan. One afternoon, Ilya came home from a preseason captain’s meeting to find Shane digging up the front lawn under their windows.
“Shane? What is happening?”
Shane paused for a moment, chest heaving over the shovel. In that moment, Ilya suddenly got Shane’s manual labor kink.
“We can’t feed the birds ourselves, but if the birds find food in front of our windows that’s not our problem! I’m planting plants that the birds like. Lots of wildflowers and raspberries. And they are all indigenous, so we don't have to get gardening permits or approval from the condominium corporation.”
Ilya grinned. “I have said before, you are a genius.”
The wildflowers were beautiful, and not only did they attract a wide array of birds, but Shane was delighted by the butterflies and bees that also soon populated the yard. Shane quickly planted more in the back yard, and their nice but sterile lawn quickly transitioned into a little slice of paradise.
As for the fine, Shane had a bigger plan. He was standing in the front lawn one evening watering the flowers when Ilya stepped out on the porch.
“So I just got a call from the bank,” Ilya started. “Were the 30,000 ¢1 transactions from our shared account you, or have we fallen victim to the most bizarre scam?”
Shane turned the water off, smiling with what was frankly a downright evil smile. “That was me.”
“Oh I’m sure this will be good,” Ilya said, settling down on the front porch chair. Shane walked up to join him.
“So when I went to pay the fine, I realized there were no limits on how many payments you can split it up into, so I looked into the vendor. It’s normally used for housing payments, and there technically is an option to put the transaction fee cost on the payee. Since the condo corp fees start at $300 though, they probably didn’t think to do that here. So if the portal vendor site is to be trusted, each transaction costs them $3.50. Curtis's $300 vendetta has now cost the Condominium Corporation $105,000.”
Ilya’s eyebrows shot up.
“We better go inside right now before we get a fine for public indecency,” Ilya growled, grabbing at Shane.
Shane smiled and let Ilya pull him inside. “I don’t know if they will actually accept it, but I have another plan regardless.”
“You and your sexy sexy plans Shane,” Ilya moaned, feeling him up the second they got into the door. “They kill me.”
Shane giggled, and let Ilya drag him up the stairs.
The next day, Ilya found himself at his first Condominium corporation meeting. It was so bad that it made him spend almost the entire first hour wondering if it was cruel to continue calling Shane boring. Shane wasn’t boring. Shane was predictable and nerdy and meticulous, but he was also brilliant and sexy and Ilya loved him more than life itself. Life, that Ilya was quickly forgetting the bright points of, as he listened to what was entering the ten minute mark of a fence height debate.
Eventually though, it was Shane’s turn to speak.
“Hello, I know some of you, but my name is Shane Hollander-Rozanov. My husband and I own our home at 442 Riveris road. I believe you received my infraction payment of $300 today?”
“Yes, the payment that managed to cost us $100,000?” Curtis snarked. Shane looked concerned.
“Oh, if my math was right, it should have been $105,000. I might still owe you $14.28 then.”
“Mr. Hollander-“
“Hollander-Rozanov,” Shane corrected. “But I was going to offer you a few options. You see, I was involved in the property purchase a few years ago, and I remember Curtis discussing the Condominium corporation with me. It sounded like a non-negotiable. What I did not know though, was that this street was developed fifteen years after the Condominium corporation was incorporated, and per the bylaws, that makes every home on our street an opt-in property.” Ilya wanted to let out a whoop.
“I understand how the funding works, I enjoy the parks and the streetlights in the neighborhood. I understand the privacy and order maintained in this neighborhood is part of the appeal. I believe in paying my dues for the space I live in. What I do not believe in, is my husband and I being nitpicked about how to live on the property we own. So I am giving the board a few options, I am content with all of them. The first is that we continue how we are. You accept my payment, we continue to live the way we want to. That may wrack up some fees and fines, but I promise, we can afford it. The second is that you let us out of our agreement. We would also like to sue in this situation for the last few years of fees, given we were signed under false pretenses. The third is that we will pay cover the cost of that transaction, plus five years of our property and the one belonging to Mrs. Rhoda next to us, in exchange for permanently being left out of condominium corporation affairs for the foreseeable future. And regardless of what you pick, I would strongly encourage you to be more transparent with our neighbors. Oh, and in the event we interact with the board in any circumstance, I ask that a different representative than Curtis is sent. I don’t like the way he leers at my husband.”
Ilya was positive Shane did like it, but probably just threw that last line in there to add insult to injury.
The room was pandemonium for a few minutes, before Curtis called it to order. “I believe ah, we will be discussing this in a closed session,” he said uncomfortably. “We will communicate our ruling by mail to you.” Shane nodded politely, thanked them for their time, and marched out of the room. Ilya ran after him, cackling the whole way.
“It’s a good thing you play hockey,” Ilya said on their walk home. “You would be so evil if you had a single shred of power in any other capacity.”
Shane frowned. “I never would do something like that if they weren’t hassling people. We have the time and the money to pull a stunt, but they would just steamroll someone like Mrs. Rhoda otherwise.”
Ilya planted a kiss to Shane’s forehead as they walked up their front steps.
“You are a good, sexy, bitchy man Hollander,” Ilya said as he unlocked the front door.
“Hey, that’s Hollander-Rozanov to you,” Shane said shortly, slapping Ilya’s ass and breezing past him as soon as the door was opened. Ilya grinned and chased after him.
To Mr. & Mr. Hollander-Rozanov. Attached you will find the invoice for your banking transaction fees, and five years of condominium corporation dues x2 adjust for inflation. You will also find the terms and conditions. Please review at your earliest convenience.