Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationships:

Kip Grady/Scott Hunter, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Scott Hunter & Ilya Rozanov, Kip Grady & Shane Hollander & Scott Hunter & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Ilya Rozanov, Kip Grady, Shane Hollander, Hayden Pike

Additional Tags:

The Kingfisher (Game Changers), Coming Out, Scott Hunter Knows About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Supportive Scott Hunter, Double Date, a little bit of panic, Good Friend Hayden Pike, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov in Love, Kip Grady/Scott Hunter in Love, Emotions, good conversations, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov Relationship Timeline Reveal, tagging is hard, Not Beta Read

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-19 Words: 13,788 Chapters: 1/1

Of art lectures and doing laundry

Summary

“Did my team give you shit about you?” Rozanov asked Scott, as they sat at the bar together, both a bottle of beer in hand.
“They didn’t.” It was genuinely lovely to not get a single homophobic comment all game.
“Ok good. You will tell me, if someone says something, yes?” Rozanov was looking at the screen, but clearly meant it. “I will put an end if it happens.”
“Wow. That’s… kind of you.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he chuckled, looking at Scott from the corner of his eyes. “I am a fucking delight.”
“You’re a fucking something for sure,” he snorted. “Still appreciate it.”
“Not just doing it for you.” He took a bit of a breath, before all but whispering: “you’re not only queer player in the league.”

~

One game day in New York, Ilya opens up to Scott over a shared drink. It's a good conversation, but Scott doesn't expect it to lead to much - until Ilya invites himself and his mystery boyfriend to Scott and Kip's place for a double date.

Notes

it's sort of a mix of book canon and show canon. Best of both worlds :)
hope you enjoy it :)

Scott wasn’t quite sure how it happened, that the Kingfisher turned to the hangout for any hockey player after a game in New York. Ok, fine, any queer-friendly hockey player. Admittedly, he knew he wasn’t innocent in that. It was still a little bizarre to see it packed with Admirals and Bears, drinking together. It for sure reflected well on Scott’s own team that after losing to Boston, they weren’t being dicks about it. So, they all just drank and chatted as they watched the game currently on; LA was playing in Montreal. No, they were losing in Montreal. Scott couldn’t help but be a little happy that LA was losing quite a bit harder than they had earlier, but would keep that to himself.

Scott had to admit though that even though they didn’t have a bad time with the Bears there, he did want to be a bit of a dick. Especially with Kip not being out with them; as long as he wasn’t there, Scott was less inclined to be nice. But a good captain should lead by example, keep the chirping harmless. So, he did. And, just to be safe, stayed away from Rozanov, because that guy made kindness just a little bit too tough.

For a while that worked quite well. Until Scott sat at the bar.

“Thank you, Kyle,” Scott smiled, as he was handed another beer.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” came Rozanov’s voice, as he sat on the chair right by Scott’s side. And he already knew that he was not in the mood for whatever Rozanov was gonna start.

“Cheers,” he grinned, holding out his bottle for Scott to toast with him.

“Cheers.” He clinked his bottle against Rozanov’s.

“LA is not doing well, hm? If even Hayden Pike can score against them.” Rozanov was looking at one of the TVs, where Montreal’s number 35 was being crowded in celebration after his goal. Hunter didn’t quite get the dig against Pike. Sure, he wasn’t the best player of the league, but he was Montreal’s alternate captain for a reason.

“Nope,” he shook his head, already dreading what comparison to the Admiral’s game Rozanov was about to make.

But he stayed quiet for a bit, focused on the TV, where Hollander and Winters were facing off. Unsurprisingly, Hollander won the face-off.

Rozanov eventually spoke up. Quietly. “Did my team give you any shit?”

Scott couldn’t help the snorted laugh. “Yeah, Rozanov. You most of all.”

“Not talking about the chirping,” he waved it off.

“Then what are you talking about?”

“Did they give you shit about you?” he slightly rephrased it, raising an eyebrow. And oh. That’s what he meant.

“They didn’t.” It was genuinely lovely to not get a single homophobic comment all game. Not that he experienced too much of that on the ice, but some words just tended to be thrown around. On his gracious days, Scott assumed that not everyone knew how insulting certain words and phrases were, but most of the time he was pretty fucking sure that the homophobia was very much intended by the other player.

“Ok good. You will tell me, if someone says something, yes?” Rozanov was looking at the screen, but clearly meant it. “I will put an end if it happens.”

“Wow. That’s… kind of you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he chuckled, looking at Scott from the corner of his eyes. “I am a fucking delight.”

“You’re a fucking something for sure,” he snorted. “Still appreciate it.”

“Not just doing it for you.” Rozanov turned back to the TV, just in time to see Hollander scoring. Scott didn’t miss the little grin Rozanov was trying to hide. He took a bit of a breath, before all but whispering: “you’re not only queer player in the league.”

This statement could be understood as Rozanov being a great ally, wanting everyone to feel safe in the league. That almost desperate tone in his voice and the tension in his shoulders told a different story, though. One, that didn’t surprise Scott too much. What did surprise him, was that Rozanov just said it outright like that.

“Right.” Scott cleared his throat, a little unsure how to react.

Rozanov seemed to realize that Scott had put the pieces together, and sighed. “You will not tell anyone.” It didn’t sound like an ask, not even like a command, but mostly like a fact. Like he trusted Scott not to tell anyone.

Which of course he wouldn’t. “Never would.”

“I know.” He took a beat, then Rozanov waved for Kyle. “You have good vodka?”

Kyle listed their brands and one of them had to be good enough, and he ordered a glass for himself and Scott. “Is not the best, but is ok. You should get Russian vodka, though. I will send you a list of good brands.”

“Sure thing,” Kyle chuckled, as he poured each of them their drink. “Just gonna say this the one time, but I will refill this only once; not going to get into trouble with Kip for you.” He shot Scott a look.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. And next to him Rozanov geared up.

“Oh, so the old man can’t handle his alcohol?”

“Very funny. But no. It’s not about the vodka, it’s about me and Kip having plans in the morning, and he already told me that I’m not allowed to be hungover for that.”

“Ah,” he chuckled. “Is it good plans at least?”

“We’re meeting some of his family tomorrow, his aunt and her family.”

“And they will not like you being drunk?”

“Probably not,” he shrugged. “I mean, his dad wouldn’t mind. But according to Kip his aunt’s family is a little bit… traditional,” was the word he eventually settled on.

“Traditional?” The teasing tone dropped from his voice, as Rozanov glanced at him. “So it will not be nice?”

“Genuinely not a clue. Kip said that while he’s out to them, I’m the first boyfriend they will ever meet. But apparently they are also quite weirded out that I play hockey for a living. So…”

“So, being drunk, or hungover, would only make this worse, in the traditional sense, I understand. But hey.” He held out his glass with a grin. “For tonight you can have fun with mediocre vodka.”

“To mediocre vodka,” he grinned back, toasting with Rozanov and ignoring Kyle’s affronted: “Hey!” from behind the bar.

Rozanov’s focus was back on the game for a bit. Scott had questions, yes. Questions and theories, he had carried around for years at this point. But he probably didn’t have a right to ask these questions. And if he were in Rozanov’s place, he wouldn’t have wanted to be asked either, so he stayed quiet, watching Drapeau making a pretty impressive save, waiting for Rozanov to continue this conversation.

“So you and Kip’s family… You have good relationship?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, and couldn’t help the smile. “With his folks for sure. I don’t really know the rest all that much, but especially with his Dad I get along really well, he’s a genuinely nice person. It probably helps that he is a massive hockey fan.”

“Of hockey or of you?” he smirked.

“He is an Admirals fan,” Scott clarified. “So a fan of hockey. Of good hockey.”

“Mhm, yes, sounds like he needs to watch other teams playing.”

“Fuck off. But you know, I assume that even if he weren’t a New York fan, I’d be welcome in the family.”

“That is good,” Rozanov nodded, genuinely meaning it. On the TV Hollander intercepted the puck, and elegantly turned, playing it straight to Comeau. Rozanov taking a deep breath and looking around them, pulled Scott’s attention from the screen. His voice was almost silent as he said: “my boyfriend’s parents are fans of Montreal.”

Scott almost dropped his glass, and his features did fall for a moment. Not only had Rozanov just come out to him, he was now also opening up about his boyfriend, and his boyfriend’s family.

His boyfriend; Scott had a pretty good idea, who that person was.

“Wow,” was all he eventually got out. He should probably say more, or something else, because the tension coming off Rozanov could be cut with a butterknife, no matter how hard he tried to seem nonchalant. Just going along with it would probably be best. “They’re Montreal fans?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, eyes glued to the TV screen. “Very obsessive fans.”

“Shit. Have you met them?”

“Yes, few months ago. And they did not care that he is gay, but they were worried that he is dating me.”

Scott couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh god, I can see that. Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh.”

“No, is fine. Is funny,” Rozanov chuckled along. “And there is no trouble about that. They like me.” This wasn’t said in the typical Rozanov fashion, all smirking and cocky. He said it almost coyly, with a slight blush creeping up his face. Almost as if he couldn’t believe that his boyfriend’s family had taken him in.

And Scott got it. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I kinda forgot what it’s like to be part of a normal family after all these years. And then we had dinner with Kip’s parents. Fuck.” He couldn’t help getting emotional about that. For the first time since he was twelve years old, there was someone like a father in his life again.

Instead of saying anything, Rozanov patted his arm, and they went back to silently watching LA doing their all but not getting past the Metros.

“Damnit,” Rozanov groaned, when Hollander scored again.

Scott raised his eyebrow in question.

“Hollander just scored his second goal. I only scored once tonight,” he grumbled, downing what was left of his vodka.

“Yeah, I just don’t got it in me to feel sorry for you right now.”

“No, of course not, you would not understand, is a feeling only for the winners. And top players.”

“Fuck off.” He rolled his eyes, finishing his own vodka, and gesturing for Kyle. “That one refill, please? Him too,” he nodded towards Rozanov.

“On his tab, I assume?” Kyle grinned.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Scott nodded, grinning at Rozanov. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Sure.” They toasted again.

“To scoring less than Shane fucking Hollander.”

“Shane fucking Hollander.”

Yeah, of course Rozanov would toast to Hollander. It’s been years since the first time Scott suspected that that rivalry those two had going on was, at least to them, elaborate foreplay. And the way this conversation was going? Yeah, that was cementing this whole thing. At least for Scott. He waited with asking his next question until his glass was back on the bar; there was no helping it, Scott was curious about this secret (or not so secret) boyfriend’s family. And how that worked out. “Assuming your boyfriend’s parents are Hollander fans, how are they dealing with your rivalry?”

“Good question.” Rozanov tried to hide it, but there was something on his face, Scott couldn’t quite name. Insecurity maybe? “Rivalry is for on the ice. When we see each other, it’s not about hockey. They are very kind people,” he continued after taking a beat. “And they are proud when I play well. They messaged me after our game, they watched it.” That blush and beaming smile Rozanov wasn’t able to hide, not even in this bar with the dim lighting. “And sorry to say, they were in support of us, not you. Well maybe not Boston team. But me.”

Scott couldn’t even be bothered by Rozanov trying to turn this into a chirp; that dude was baring his soul right here, only natural that his own protective shield would come up.

“That sounds fucking amazing.”

“It is,” he smiled.

“Genuinely happy for you, Rozanov.”

“Thanks, Hunter.”

He couldn’t keep from asking this other question. “How about your boyfriend? What’s he like?”

“Also Montreal fan,” he chuckled. What a surprise.

“And it works between you?” The blush on Rozanov’s face was answer enough to know that it worked.

“He is…” This lovestruck smile was not a look Scott ever expected to see on Rozanov’s face. “He’s… I think you would like him. You can be… similar.”

Wow, that… That was something.

“Ilya Rozanov. Did you just imply that I might be your type?”

Instead of biting his head off, Rozanov snorted a laugh, before looking at Scott. A little intensely, almost looking him up and down. He looked ahead again, before answering. “You are hot.” Ok, no idea what to do with that. “But…” And he turned back. “You are also a million years old. And not good enough hockey player for me.”

“Right,” he snorted. “We have the same number of Stanley Cups.”

“Yes, well…” he shrugged. “Lucky.”

“And I have an Olympic medal.” It was probably not nice to say this, and the little wince Rozanov tried to hide showed how Sochi 2014 was still a sore subject. But it was Rozanov. Biggest asshole of the league. And while their conversation was nice… Holy shit, he was having an honest to god nice conversation with Ilya Rozanov! As nice as it was, it was more than called for.

“Doesn’t make you better than me,” he eventually answered. “Am best player in whole league.”

“You tell yourself what you need to tell yourself.”

The game ended 4-1 for Montreal. Rozanov got out his phone, texting someone. That adoring smile returned to his face, and Scott had a pretty good idea, who he was texting.

“I am genuinely happy for you,” Scott smiled, patting Rozanov’s shoulder. “And if you want to talk to someone who understands… Well, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Hunter,” he smiled back. “It is nice to know that we are not alone.”

“You’re not. And hey, maybe one day you’ll want to bring that boyfriend of yours along. At least in this place he’ll always be welcome. Even if he’s a fan-“ or the damn star-center “-of the fucking Metros.”

~ 1 year later

rozanov81
Hunter
next month is All-Stars in New York
you have plans for after?

scotthunter
Rozanov
did you get hacked?

rozanov81
no
what do you mean?

scotthunter
didn’t expect a message from you

rozanov81
would have called
don’t have your number

scotthunter
not gonna happen
but yes
next month we’ll destroy the Canadian team

rozanov81
yes, you will fail miserably
and you will host dinner

scotthunter
I will?
with who?

rozanov81
with me
and my boyfriend

scotthunter
wow
he’s coming along to New York?

rozanov81
clearly this is implied
you getting confused in old age now?

scotthunter
fuck off

rozanov81
we do not fly back to Canada because of game against boring and basic Admirals afterwards

scotthunter
which we will win

rozanov81
not going to happen
but we will be in town
so maybe day after All-Stars you will invite us?
my boyfriend wants to meet

scotthunter
ah this is why
you want to show off to your boyfriend that you know the best hockey player of the whole league

rozanov81
you could not be more wrong
your hockey skills will not impress him

scotthunter
‘cause he’s seen yours?
please
what even is it that you do besides chirping and pissing everyone off?

rozanov81
I rule 😉

scotthunter
admittedly, I am a little curious
let me ask Kip

rozanov81
I’m sure your pretty boyfriend will like to invite the best hockey player to his home 😊

scotthunter
my pretty fiancé already has the best hockey player in his home

rozanov81
oh wow
congratulations!
that is very nice news

scotthunter
thank you, I appreciate that

“Kip?”

He currently was in the kitchen, whipping them up some dinner. Scott hadn’t really paid any attention to the process, but the smell was pretty amazing. He was looking forward to figuring out what Kip had in the oven.

“What’s up?” He walked over, leaning over the back of the couch and resting his head right by Scott’s.

“We’ll have dinner guests next month.”

“Ok… Who?”

“Ilya Rozanov and his boyfriend.”

Kip’s face fell a little bit. And yeah, Scott couldn’t blame him. This was… insane. Kip didn’t really know too many hockey players that didn’t play for New York. But Scott had complained and bitched about Rozanov more than enough for Kip to know who that was. And know, why that was so fucking insane. What Kip didn’t know, was that Scott knew who Rozanov’s boyfriend was. Or was pretty damn sure. Like 95%. Ok, maybe 80%. He had thought about talking to Kip about it; they had talked about queer hockey players before. But Scott was adamant not to name names. Just because a player outed himself to Scott – and that had happened once or twice over these one and a half years or so – that didn’t mean they outed themselves to Kip. And Kip was amazing, so understanding. He never pushed, never tried to get that info out of Scott. Except maybe for that time Kyle and Eric started hooking up, but that was a different situation alltogether. At least that’s what Scott told himself to make himself believe it was alright to talk – not gossip – with Kip about that.

“Rozanov. Wants to come to dinner. With his boyfriend.” Kip blinked a few times, as he worked through that. Which he did quite quickly. “Ok, makes sense, they are in town a bit longer with first the All-Stars and then the game against you guys. And I guess it makes sense that they’d want to have a chat.”

“Alright, so I’ll let him know we’re in?” he smiled.

Kip locked eyes with him, all open and trusting. “You knew about Rozanov. And you know who that boyfriend is, don’t you?”

Scott nodded; he wouldn’t outright lie to Kip. “I mean I don’t know for sure who that boyfriend is. But I do have an idea, who it might be.”

“So it’s another hockey player?” Kip deduced, not waiting or asking for confirmation. “Wow, that’s gotta be rough. But good on them for reaching out, that’s really fucking brave.”

That it was.

“That’s gonna be an interesting evening for sure,” Kip chuckled as he got up and put a kiss on Scott’s head. “And I gotta say, I do kinda want to meet Rozanov.”

“Why?” Scott turned, following Kip with his eyes, as he walked back to the kitchen island. “Don’t tell me you think he’s hot.”

“He is,” Kip shrugged. Scott could just snort. Sure, Kip wasn’t wrong, Ilya Rozanov was an attractive person. He still couldn’t quite let it slide and followed right behind. His love already wore that infuriatingly sexy smirk on his face, knowing full well what would happen next.

“Wow.” Scott stepped closer, crowding Kip against the counter. His heart skipped a beat as their chest brushed up against each other, and it did indescribable things to Scott’s body, as he felt Kip’s breath hitching.

“You’re acting like I said he’s the hottest player in the league.”

Fuck, Scott loved the way Kip looked, when he stared up, his eyes so big, so full of love, and that sexy, sexy glint, that usually made Scott forget everything around them.

“So he isn’t?” He ran his fingers up Kip’s side. “Then who is?”

Kip shuddered, before answering. “According to GQ, it’s Shane Hollander.”

God, that man.

“Hollander. Hollander?” Scott was on fire for this man. He grabbed his thighs, lifting him up on the counter in one quick move. Kip spread his knees, giving Scott the room to step between his legs. “Wow.” His voice wasn’t much more than a hoarse whisper at this point, leaning close to whisper into his ear. “I think there’s someone you might have forgotten…”

“Have I?” Kip’s hands came up Scott’s back, a hand moving up into his hair, and it all sent shivers down his spine. “Mhm… Seems like I might need a bit of a reminder…”

“I think you do.” Scott moved in, lips meeting in hungry kisses, kissing along his jaw, his cheek, his neck, drawing low moans from Kip. “How much longer till food is ready?”

“Don’t know, ten minutes?”

“Not good enough,” Scott decided, and with all his might managed to separate himself from Kip long enough to switch off the oven. “This might require some more in depth reminding.” He closed the distance between them again, lifting him up. Immediately Kip wrapped his legs around Scott’s waist, and wasting no time, Scott carried him to the bedroom.

“They are in.”

With these words, Shane was greeted as he picked up the call from Ilya. He didn’t need to ask who, or what Ilya was talking about. Ever since he had told Ilya to set up a double date with Scott Hunter and his fiancé, he had spiralled about it.

It was the perfect opportunity. All-Stars in New York, Ilya would play the Admirals a few days later and the Centaurs therefore stayed in town, as did the Metros, whose next game was against New Jersey. A lucky coincidence that saw Shane and Ilya in the same town for five days. A fucking miracle if one were to ask Shane.

So they could go ahead and sit down with Scott fucking Hunter. Meet his partner. Come out to them.

Scott was trustworthy. One hundred percent. He could keep a secret, had managed to keep a secret, the same secret, for years. And he knew what they were going through. Sort of. He knew what it meant to be gay in their world. To be secretly gay in their world.

But he also knew what it meant to be publicly gay in their world. He had changed so much for Shane and Ilya. Without him, Ilya wouldn’t have joined Shane at the cottage. He’d like to think that they would have figured it out eventually on their own. But without the cottage, Ilya might have extended his contract with Boston. He might not be in Canada right now. Shane’s parents might not know. Hayden might not know. Shane and Ilya could still be completely alone in their relationship, not knowing what exactly they were.

But they weren’t. And that was, at least in parts, thanks to Scott fucking Hunter.

And Scott knew that Ilya was dating a man. Shane’s first instinct was to get mad, after Ilya told him about that conversation he’d had with Hunter that night at the Kingfisher. Mad, that he had talked to anyone about them being in a relationship. Ilya apologized and did assure him multiple time that there was no way Scott could think that Shane and Ilya were together from their talk. And after Shane had calmed down again, realization that he wasn’t exactly being fair hit him, and he was the one to apologize. And it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t thought about what it would be like to have that conversation with Scott Hunter; ever since the whole kiss-on-the-ice-thing that had been a recurring guest in his mind.

Going there to dinner made sense. It could be a good thing.

Or maybe it was a bad thing. A very bad thing. They had a secret relationship. SECRET. And now they would go on a double date? A fucking double date? With another hockey player? But it was agreed on. They would do that. There was no more getting out of it. There was no more getting out of that – Ilya and Shane would come out to Scott fucking Hunter.

Oh god.

“Shane.” Through the fog of racing thoughts, Ilya’s voice tried to break through. “Shane!”

“Uh huh.” That was all he got out.

“Shane, sweetheart, it’s gonna be ok.”

Shane doubted that.

“Hey, buddy.” All of a sudden, a hand was on his shoulder, gently shaking him. “It’s ok, it’s ok. Come on, sit.” Shane was present enough to know that it was Hayden, who gently led him through their hotel room towards one of the beds.

What city were they even in right now?

Somewhere far off, Shane realized Hayden taking the phone from his hand, switching it on speaker.

“Shane, talk to me.” That was Ilya again, his voice a little tinny, but no less calming.

“Yes.”

“Yeah, buddy, that’s the spirit.” He was gently pushed down, sinking into the soft mattress. Hayden kept his arm around Shane’s shoulder, joining him on the bed.

“It will be ok.”

“It will. And you know why?” Hayden continued, almost laughing. “Because Rozanov and I agree on that.”

“Of course Pike is agreeing with me, I am always right.”

“Oh fuck off, you’re not. He’s right about this, though. It’ll be alright.”

Not sure why, that had Shane snorting out in laughter. “You guys agree on something?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda fucked, huh?” Hayden shrugged, followed moments after by Ilya chuckling: “swear jar!”

“That only counts when the kids are around!” Hayden made clear. “But we agree, it will be alright. I’m gonna be honest, no idea what ‘it’ exactly is, but it will be alright.”

“After All-Stars game, Shane and I will have double date with Scott Hunter.”

“Oh shit.” Hayden’s face fell, and Shane knew they were fucked. God, Hayden saw that it was a bad idea, too. It would go horribly bad and…

“Pike. Not helpful.”

“Shit, sorry. I was just surprised by your plans, but I’m not saying it’ll be bad. Are you kidding me? It’ll be great. You guys got this. And I totally got your back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Hayden continued, “if Scott Hunter is being a dick to you, I will kick his ass.”

“The Centaurs will destroy the Admirals.”

“As will the Metros.”

“Yes, but then Centaurs will destroy Metros,” Ilya continued, “so…”

“Of course,” Shane snorted, as reality started to take on more and more shape.

“Rozanov, you keep forgetting that we got the best player in the league,” Hayden chirped, winking at Shane.

“Is lies. Canada is lucky I am playing in your country now, you finally have the best player on your side. And most sexy player, too.”

“Not according to GQ…”

“Oh fuck off Pike, you did not even make the list.”

“At least you’re hotter than Scott Hunter, Ilya” Shane chuckled. This whole Ilya-versus-Hayden was a fantastic distraction from his panic attack.

“Is he though?” Hayden smirked.

It was silent on the other end of the line for a moment, and Shane already knew that whatever Ilya would say next, would be devastating.

“Ruby and Jade think that Uncle Ilya is the coolest. Ever.”

Hayden’s face fell, and it really took all that Shane had not to laugh out loud. Yeah, Hayden’s kids thought that Uncle Ilya was so cool. But damnit, those kids loved their dad. Ilya might be cooler to them, but they would never love either of them as much as they loved their dad. And knowing this, Shane did allow a chuckle to come through.

“Don’t,” Hayden hissed, before pointing his finger at the phone. “You’re lucky if I let you babysit again.”

“If you won’t, your children will riot,” was Ilya’s answer. “Will they not?”

Oh, they probably would.

“There are so many nice men in this world,” Hayden sighed, as he turned to Shane. “And you had to fall in love with this asshole.”

Yeah. Yeah, he did. Not that Shane had realized it back then, but he was gone for that man after the first time they kissed. And after their first time that was it. No matter what Shane tried or would have tried – it was Ilya. Always had been.

“Ugh, I hate it when you look so disgustingly in love because of Rozanov,” Hayden sighed, not that there was any heat behind his words. “That almost makes me want to be nice to that dick.”

“That dick is probably the reason he’s looking like that right now,” Ilya said from the other end of the phone, and as deadpan as he sounded, Shane was pretty sure that there was a significant blush on his boyfriend’s face.

“Eugh!” Hayden cried out, and dropped back onto the bed. Luckily that meant he missed the blush creeping up Shane’s face. “Why won’t you leave me out of your sex life?”

“Because it’s fun!”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re into me, Rozanov.”

“Why would I go for fifteenth best player of Montreal, if I already have number one?”

“So you agree, Shane is number one?”

“In Montreal, yes. In Canada and rest of the world? Sorry, only number two.” he quickly added, as Hayden rolled his eyes.

“You are lucky Shane loves you so much, or I swear to God, I would fucking drop you, Rozanov.”

“Yes. Lucky me.” Shane could hear the adoring smile, and wished, above anything, that he could wrap Ilya up in his arms right now, feel his hair stand up at Ilya’s breath on his skin, and kiss those blushed cheeks.

Hayden regarded him with a raised eyebrow; Shane’s adoration clearly must show on his face. “Do you need me to leave the room?”

“Yes, Pike, I will always require you to walk away from where I am.”

“Not talking to you, Roz. But seriously.” Hayden raised his eyebrows. “You look like I might want to walk out of here and not return for at least an hour.”

Heat crept up Shane’s neck, his face, he couldn’t quite meet Hayden’s eyes.

“Right, this is all the answer I need.” Hayden cleared his throat as he jumped off the bed. He headed straight for his shoes by the door. “I’m sure I’ll find some of the guys at the bar. I will be back in one hour,” he said, giving his timeframe extra emphasis. “Have fun, don’t force me to be involved with it.” And with that, the door closed behind Hayden.

“Smart man,” Ilya chuckled. Shane switched off the speaker, holding the phone to his ear, as he laid back, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for Ilya’s ask to switch to video. For Shane to take off his shirt. Or put on his glasses. Instead, Ilya asked: “Are you ok?”

And that question brought Shane back to the insanity that were his social plans for New York.

“I think so.”

“Very convincing.”

Shane didn’t quite know what to say. He had just gotten himself under control, and that had taken the combined efforts of Ilya and Hayden. He was worried that whatever he’d say would send him right back into that spiral. So he didn’t say anything.

“I’m sure Hunter will understand if we cancel.”

“No,” he sighed. They had agreed they would do it. And Shane knew that Ilya really wanted to do it. He had looked so hopeful, when he had told Shane about talking with Scott about dating a guy. And he had looked just as hopeful, when he shared his idea to do a double date. This meant a lot to Ilya. And for him, Shane could do this. And since when was Shane one to back down from a challenge? “You’re not going to cancel. We’re going to New York, Canada’s gonna dominate the All-Stars games, and then we’re gonna have dinner with Scott Hunter and his man.”

“And then I will kick his ass on the ice again,” Ilya finished, and Shane couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yes, you will. Because you’re the second-best player in the league.”

“Mhm, you have jokes now?”

“According to Rose I’m one of the funniest guys ever.”

“Rose Landry also thought you wanted to sleep with her.”

“You’re not still jealous of Rose, are you?”

“No,” he answered, if a little too quickly.

“Ilya,” Shane smiled, imagining cradling his face in his hands. “Rose had me for about a month. You’ve had me for a decade now. With many more years ahead of us.”

It was silent on the other end. How wonderful it was that silences between him and Ilya didn’t scare him anymore. They were no longer filled with all the things they didn’t say.

The quiet eventually was broken by the facetime request. He had to chuckle, not switching to video just yet, going in search for his glasses first. Ilya would appreciate that.

~

Hayden returned to his and Shane’s room one hour and fifteen minutes later – he thought it best to give them a bit more time. Just in case. Shane looked up from the book he was reading, freshly showered and looking very satisfied.

“Rozanov still around?”

He shook his head. “He sends his regards. And extends an invitation for next time.” Shane scrunched his face together as he said this, clearly hating saying it almost as much as Hayden hated hearing it.

“I’d rather not.” He toed off his shoes, placing them neatly next to Shane’s and jumped on his own bed. “J.J. says that if we win tomorrow, you won’t get out of going to the bar with us.”

“If we win?” Shane raised his eyebrow. “I think you meant when we win.”

“Yes, oh captain, my captain,” Hayden grinned. And was relieved. Shane seemed good. Calm. In control of himself again. And kudos for Rozanov to getting him there. Yes, Hayden was aware that he wasn’t unimportant in calming Shane down, but still. What Shane and Rozanov had was something special. And even though it was Ilya fucking Rozanov – Hayden was glad he got to be a part of it.

Scott Hunter didn’t get nervous often. And he wasn’t really nervous now. Maybe a little curious, in a slightly anxiety inducing way. Rozanov was about to show up here, at Scott and Kip’s apartment, which was already wrong on so many levels. Weird. Quite frankly not exactly how Scott wanted to spend the day after losing the All-Stars game to the Canadian Team. Team USA wasn’t bad at all, they didn’t give the Canadians the satisfaction of obliterating them. Scott himself had scored twice; they kept up the fight and kept it a close game. But damnit. Rozanov and Hollander on a line? As much as Scott hated to admit it, getting past them… Well, there was no getting past them. For the most heated of rivalries in the league, it was surprising how well those two played together. Or maybe it wasn’t that intense of a rivalry, if Scott’s hunch proved to be true. And after witnessing them together most of yesterday – yeah. Scott was pretty fucking sure that the guy Rozanov was about to show up with here was Shane Hollander.

“Smells delicious,” he beamed. Kip looked so adorable in that polka dot apron, with a smudge of something Scott couldn’t a hundred percent identify on his cheek. Scott wiped it off, before kissing that same spot.

“Of course it does,” Kip shot back, his finger under Scott’s chin to move him in for a proper kiss. He reached up to tangle his fingers with Kip’s. A big reason for that was to feel the metal of that ring against his skin. There was a ring on his finger. There was a ring on both their fingers! He got to have that life. That everything with Kip.

Lucky.

There was no other word Scott could think of to describe himself. Lucky, that he had Kip in his life. For now. And for ever.

“I love you so much.”

“Aw,” Kip chuckled, his cheeks going red. “I love you, too.”

“I said so much.”

“Save the competitive bullshit for Rozanov,” was all he said, gave him another quick kiss and then turned his attention back on getting the salad ready. Apparently, Rozanov’s boyfriend followed a pretty strict diet (which yeah, everyone in the league knew that Hollander took nutrition seriously). So a list with acceptable foods had been sent and they prepared some Tilapia and veggies that were currently roasting in the oven, smelling so fantastic, and finished the salad, dressing on the side. Scott said they, most of the decisions were made by Kip, but Scott was not so useless in a kitchen that he didn’t do his part. Which consisted mostly of cutting veggies.

“I was going to save it for the bedroom afterwards, but if you want me to use it up on Rozanov...”

As expected, Kip’s head whipped around with a look that screamed: if we weren’t about to have guests I’d have you right here on the kitchen floor. And honestly? A part of Scott was tempted to tell Rozanov to get here thirty minutes later. Maybe an hour. Which he couldn’t do, they should arrive any moment. Still. He couldn’t keep the grin in, and that tension in his stomach almost made him a little woozy.

“Hold that thought for later,” Kip eventually made clear, and Scott was a little proud that his man sounded a little breathless.

Good thing the doorbell sounded, otherwise it really would have been difficult to not just plaster himself to Kip’s side until they were too riled up to think of anything else but the other.

“Great timing,” Kip chuckled, untying the apron, as Scott buzzed them in. “Right. This is about to happen.”

Spending time with Rozanov, not in a professional capacity but a private one. Which was quite something, because he had no idea what to expect. Kip joined his side as he opened the door, just as the ding of the elevator announced their guests. Ilya Rozanov walked around the corner first, a bottle of what Scott assumed was vodka in his hand. Right by his side, his boyfriend followed. Shane Hollander.

“Holy shit,” Kip mumbled, and Scott almost had to chuckle. Yup, he knew it. And felt a little vindicated.

“Hey guys,” he smiled, as he waved the two of them inside. “Can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but it’s nice to see you.” That surprise on their faces probably stemmed from Scott not being shocked at all, and it was a little funny to see Ilya Rozanov of all people looking startled. Hollander just looked terrified.

“So, I don’t know if you’ve ever met – this is Kip,” he introduced his fiancé.

“Yeah, uhm, nice to meet you.” Shane held out his hand, and if a little confused, Kip shook it, then Shane held his hand out to Scott. Well, he knew this evening wouldn’t be what he expected, but he did not think that would already happen with the greetings. But he too shook Hollander’s hand.

“Yes, nice to meet you.” Rozanov did not shake his hand, just nodded at him. “Here. So you have something good to drink.” Rozanov held the vodka out to Scott, who took it with a grin. And Rozanov looked not happy about Scott being so relaxed.

“Thanks, appreciate that. Do you want something to drink? Maybe we shouldn’t start with the vodka, but we got beer, wine, ginger ale?”

“Uhm yeah, ginger ale,” Hollander got out.

“Beer for me.”

“No problem. Make yourselves comfortable.” He gestured towards the couch.

“Yeah, uh… Shoes on or off?” Hollander asked.

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

He looked back at Scott like a deer in headlights. And it would be funny, were it not also a little weird. Rozanov just nudged his side, and together they walked to the couch, their shoes on.

Scott and Kip got a few drinks, and once their backs were to their guests, Kip just shot him this wide-eyed look, screaming: you knew it was Hollander?

He gave a gentle nod, grabbed a beer for himself and Rozanov, and a can of ginger ale. Kip grabbed himself a beer, and as Scott handed out the drinks, he sat on the chair; Scott made himself comfortable on the armrest.

“Thanks.” Hollander looked at the can of ginger ale, a bit of a surprised look on his face. “You get Canada Dry here?”

“Yeah, the instructions were quite clear, how did Rozanov put it? ‘Don’t by the American shit.’”

“Really?” He first turned to Rozanov, such a loving look crossing his face, before turning back to their hosts. “That is really kind, but you didn’t need to do that.”

“Eh, don’t sweat it, Hollander, seemed easier than pissing of Rozanov.”

“Smart man,” Rozanov nodded, “people should always do what I say. But it’s Ilya.”

“And Shane,” Hollander, no, Shane, continued. “At least off the ice.”

“Right. That’s gonna take some getting used to,” Scott chuckled.

“Hey, we got all evening for that.”

Silence fell over them, a time Scott used to take those two in. Hollander sat on the couch, stiff as a board, as if at attention, the anxiety written all over his features. He looked nothing like the confident young man that had so easily and effortlessly outskated everyone on the ice last night. Rozanov wasn’t as tense, he sank more into the cushions but wasn’t at ease either. Maybe he and Kip could ease their minds a little. He scooted a little closer towards Kip, who seemed to immediately understand and wrapped an arm around Scott’s waist. And Scott adored that little beaming smile that he got from his fiancé.

He noticed some movement from the corner of his eyes, and as hoped, their physical displays of affection did encourage Rozanov – Ilya – to scoot a little closer. They were by no means cuddling, but they eased against each other. Fitting themselves together as a perfect match.

Well, damn.

“Uhm.” Rozanov cleared his throat. “You do not seem surprised.” He was wondering when they’d bring that up.

“About you two? Yeah, I may have had my suspicions.”

That was pure terror on Shane’s face right there. And while Ilya had himself a little better under control there wasn’t a shred of the confidence he usually portrayed. And yeah, he got it. That fear that their secret wasn’t secret at all. And did feel bad for that.

“You knew? How… How did you… I mean… How…”

“I haven’t known for sure. I suspected you two were… something. Ever since you guys exchanged hotel room numbers in front of me at the All Stars in… what, 2010 or something?”

They were both frozen. Whether it was in shock, surprise, fear… Scott wasn’t quite sure.

“Yeah, I’m getting the vodka,” Kip decided, moving out of their half-embrace.

Scott really felt bad but also wasn’t exactly sure how to make it better. And whether the vodka helped… Well, probably couldn’t make this worse. “I’m sorry,” was what he started with. “I know that’s not what you were hoping to hear. I get it. But I need you to know that I have never talked to anyone about it.”

“He hasn’t even told me,” Kip said, as he put a few glasses out and started pouring.

“No thanks,” Shane shook his head, as Kip motioned to pour him a glass as well.

“Boring Canadian doesn’t drink during season,” Rozanov explained.

“Aren’t you a boring Canadian now, too?”

“Really?” Ilya raised his eyebrow as the rest of them chuckled. “Dinosaur is calling me boring. Me?”

“You know how boring and Canadian go together,” he shrugged, unable to keep the grin down.

“No, boring is genetic. So I cannot be boring.”

“Right,” Shane snorted. “For that to be true you’re too happy doing puzzles with my dad.”

Ok wow, not a bit of information about Rozanov, Scott expected. He sat there, currently trying to level Hollander with a look that could, in the right instances, probably kill. But Shane did not falter and just smirked at his boyfriend.

“You did this to me.”

“I did this to you?”

“You make me boring, Hollander.”

“Right,” he snorted.

“Sounds like being boring isn’t genetic, but more like an STD,” Kip chuckled.

Ilya mumbled something in Russian, before shooting Kip an almost commiserating look. “Did you catch it also? From Hunter?”

Unfortunately, Kip thought that to be pretty funny, and started laughing. For which Scott only could shoot him a look similar to the one Ilya just shot Shane. Under which Kip naturally didn’t falter.

“Well, that is our burden to carry,” Ilya sighed theatrically. “Having boring boyfriends.”

“You may have a boring boyfriend,” Kip smirked, and for a moment Scott was happy to be defended, until he continued with: “I have a boring fiancé.”

“Right,” Scott cleared his throat. Luckily, he was saved by trying to come up with a witty retort by the timer beeping.

“Saved by the bell,” Kip mumbled into his ear. “Hope you guys are hungry,” he said a little louder this time, as they all moved towards the kitchen and table.

“Smells really good,” Shane said, as he took a seat right next to Ilya.

“Let’s hope the taste can keep up with the smell.”

Unsurprisingly, it tasted fantastic.

“It’s really good, Kip.”

“Almost as good as your smoothies,” Scott grinned, pressing their knees together. And loved how Kip’s ears got a little red at that.

“Will we also be so sweet when we’re old and grey?” Rozanov cooed, and it had Shane blushing.

Scott’s first instinct was to roll his eyes, but maybe he was too in love with his soon-to-be-husband to really care about the chirp. So instead he responded with: “if you’re lucky. But, from what I’ve seen, pretty sure you are.”

It was adorable how Ilya joined his boyfriend in blushing. Add that to the list of things that Scott had never expected to see.

“Right. Because you have probably seen or well, realized more than most others…”

“There are still a lot of question marks, for sure.”

“Yeah.” Those two exchanged a look Scott couldn’t quite read.

“But unless you want to answer them, we don’t have to ask them.”

“No, is ok.”

Hollander nodded along. “We knew there’d be a lot of questions. Or we’ve been expecting them. So, yeah.”

“But,” Ilya continued, “we will also ask questions in return.”

There was something glinting in his eyes as he said that that Scott did not like one bit. But he had to admit: “That’s fair.”

“But you can ask first,” Rozanov graciously offered.

“How kind.” Scott took another sip of his beer. “So I assume it didn’t start during those All Star Games.”

“It did not,” Hollander answered. “We first hooked up the summer before our rookie season.”

“So that has been a while ago.”

“Mhm…”

“Does that mean that that whole rivalry you two have is bullshit?” Kip asked.

“No,” they answered in unison, almost enraged that anyone could get that idea. And Scott got that. In a way. He’d crush anyone on the ice who wasn’t wearing the same jersey as him. But off the ice, that was a different thing. Mostly. Up until quite recently he would have said the one exception to that was Ilya Rozanov. Maybe not anymore.

“It’s maybe not as intense as everyone thinks…”

“Or maybe intense in a different way than everyone thinks,” Scott suggested.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Probably,” Ilya grinned.

“So, beating each other on the ice is your form of foreplay.”

All three of them seemed a little surprised for Scott to put that so bluntly. Unsurprising it was Rozanov who answered. “This is a very fitting way of putting it. It’s very hot, can only recommend,” he smirked, and nudged Hollander’s side.

“Noted,” Scott laughed, as Shane’s blush reached dangerous levels of embarrassed. “Think I’m good. Although…” He turned to Kip. “Maybe this will finally get you on the ice with me.”

“Sounds like I’d have to be on the ice opposite you.”

“Your father would disown you if you played for any other team than New York.”

“True,” he chuckled.

“Maybe it would be worth it, though,” Rozanov shrugged, “there are many better teams than the Admirals.”

“I think the Admirals are doing good. I mean out of all the hockey players here he-“ he gently nudged Scott’s side “-is the most recent Stanley Cup winner,” Kip shrugged, and Scott loved that he would join the chirping.

“I’m about to win my third,” Shane shrugged.

“Oh, you are not!” Scott and Ilya shot back in unison. Even though he probably was right. Montreal was on fire this season and Scott doubted that they’d manage to get past them. But he wouldn’t admit that. Not in front of them. He had enough pride for that.

“We’ll see,” Shane grinned, retaliating against Ilya’s shove with a nudge of his own.

“No matter who wins it, it’s still the Admirals for me,” Kip shrugged. “That’s how my dad raised me and I feel like anything else might make it weird at home. I mean…” He looked up at Scott with so much love in his eyes it almost knocked the breath out of him. “We are about to do the whole ‘in good times and in bad’-thing. Don’t really want to add on an ‘unless the Admirals lose’-clause to that.”

Audience be damned, Scott couldn’t not kiss his fiancé after bringing up their vows.

“Very sweet,” Rozanov commented. “But trust me, the rivalry can make it hot. Very hot,” he added with a rasp in his voice that clearly worked on Hollander.

“Right then,” Kip grinned, as he helped himself to some more roasted veggies. “What were your favourite wins over the other?”

“Rookie of the year,” Shane answered, not a moment’s hesitation.

“Asshole,” Ilya grumbled.

“Though admittedly that didn’t lead to much.”

“Yeah, and whose fault was that?” Ilya shot back, his eyebrow raised. But Shane didn’t falter.

“Scott’s.”

“What? Why me?”

“Because you got me drunk,” Shane snorted.

“At least you didn’t call me Mr Hunter after the third shot anymore,” Scott shrugged, but couldn’t keep the grin down.

“What?” Ilya’s eyes went comically wide.

“Oh yeah, he called me that for months after joining the league.”

“You didn’t!” Rozanov’s face broke into the widest smile, as Hollander hid his face in his hands, full-on blushing. “Oh, thank you, Mr Hunter, my life is so much better for knowing this.”

“I’ll never hear the fucking end of this,” Shane grumbled.

No, Scott supposed that he wouldn’t.

“What’s yours then?” Kip asked Ilya, to move this conversation along before it devolved even further.

The smirk returned to Ilya’s face. “Being the first one to win the cup.”

Scott could see every instinct within Shane desperate to shoot something back, like “well, yeah, I got two.” But he didn’t and instead turned to the hosts. “I’m going to assume that the night you won the Stanley Cup is your guys’ favourite win by far.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Scott wouldn’t want to hide that grin if he could, and beamed at Kip.

“World-changing win.”

Hollander seemed as if he wanted to ask something but wasn’t sure whether he should or not. Well, he was a grown-ass man, if there was something he wanted to say, he should go ahead and do that. It still took him a few sips of his ginger ale, before actually speaking up. “What made you do it? Like that, I mean. So… Spontaneous. That’s what it seemed like at least.” That question entailed so much more than curiosity. There for sure was not-understanding; it was no secret in the league that Hollander’s life was completely planned out, preferably in ten-minute-increments. At least that was the joke. There was also hope, Scott thought. They couldn’t come out like that, Scott got that. One hundred percent. Dating your rival of another team? Shit, that would ruin their careers in ways Scott couldn’t imagine. Or he could imagine; those were the nightmare-scenarios that had plagued him before that day he pulled Kip onto the ice. But there was that speck of hope that there might be a silver lining on the horizon. And if he wasn’t completely mistaken, he saw that hope on both their faces right now.

“It was spontaneous.” He didn’t look at Kip, but grabbed his hand. “We were dating in secret for a few months. Fell in love, head over heels. But… I couldn’t… I couldn’t.”

“Which I knew,” Kip continued. “Tried to work through it, not telling anyone, not my dad, not my friends. Because, well, I fell in love with him, too.” Scott smiled over, but Kip’s eyes were trained on the guys sitting in front of them. “It just didn’t work for me. So that was it. I ended it. Great move on our part by the way to do that like three days before my birthday,” he snorted.

Yeah, Scott was never happy to remember that part.

“Ouch.”

“That’s a word for it,” Scott snorted. “Not my proudest moment.”

“Hey, we talked about that.” Kip brushed his hand over Scott’s arm, gently smiling up at him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You are very understanding, Kip,” Ilya said. Not a trace of mocking in his voice or features. He sounded almost impressed.

“I mean, I don’t really understand. Definitely not then, and while I’ve gotten more of an idea since then, I still don’t really know what it’s like to be queer in a hockey locker room. I know what being queer is like with a genuinely supportive dad, and an awesome group of friends, half of which are queer themselves. Everyday homophobia is still there, don’t get me wrong, but yeah. I don’t really understand.”

“But you still played along,” Rozanov continued. “That is very…”

“Thanks,” Kip said, when Rozanov didn’t seem to find the right word. It would have been a compliment, of that Scott was certain. “But yeah, we still… It didn’t work anymore. But I couldn’t let go.” He threaded their fingers together. “But I guess you couldn’t either. He came back,” he beamed. “And we came out to my dad and my friends.”

“Admittedly, your friends already knew what was up,” Scott snorted. “We were not good at keeping that secret.”

“Amateurs,” Ilya snorted under his breath. Scott decided to ignore it, and Kip continued on.

“So yeah, we were dating in almost secret then. Which was a good compromise. And then you made it to the finals,” he chuckled. “And I was there with a friend and my Dad who, as mentioned before, major Admirals fan; he was over the moon to have tickets to the finals. And then you lifted the cup. I was so fucking proud. And so fucking sad, that I couldn’t be the one to celebrate with you. Like all the other family members coming down to the ice.”

“Yeah, that…” Silence fell over them, as Scott collected himself, before continuing. “Before Kip I never really had a family outside my team. So when everyone’s families and loved ones came to the ice – I was alone. And then I spotted Kip.” He couldn’t help the chuckle. “Was so fucking happy to see him. And then I just didn’t care anymore. That was supposed to be the happiest fucking moment of my career, of my life, and there still was this pang in my heart – until I saw you.” He looked eyes with Kip, whose own eyes got a little wet. “And there was no more choice.”

“Wow.” As hard as it was, Scott looked away from Kip to their guests. Both of them seemed, above anything else, sad. They understood. Better than anyone else, probably. “That… Really happy that it worked out like that for you guys.”

“Guess, we had the right people in our corner. What about you guys? Ilya mentioned your parents know.”

“Yeah, they’ve known for about a year and a half.”

“The die-hard Montreal Metros fans,” Scott recalled, as that conversation with Rozanov came back to him. “Makes so much sense. They gotta be thrilled that they don’t have to support Boston anymore.”

“Yeah,” Ilya chuckled.

“Well, my mum’s team has always been Montreal. And my dad’s from Ottawa, where I grew up too. So now their boys play in both their teams.”

Their boys?

“You could also mention the part where I am the favourite son now,” Ilya grinned, shooting Shane a smile that could probably power the Rockefeller Christmas tree.

But Shane did not look annoyed or anything, but instead grinned back. Scott was also pretty sure that he grabbed Ilya’s hand under the table. “Used to think it would suck having to share my parents. But it’s pretty great.”

“I know how you feel,” Kip smiled, nudging Scott’s side.

Scott was silent for a moment, as he did the math. “You’ve been together for a decade, and no one knew until, what, eighteen months ago?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, and Scott’s heart broke a little at that resigned tone. “To be fair, we haven’t been dating this whole time. Just, you know… Hooking up.”

“Still,” Kip threw in. “We played that for what, two months? And I couldn’t handle those secrets anymore.”

Noone really knew what to say to that, so silence fell back over the table for a moment. Scott locked eyes with Rozanov, trying to figure out the best way to phrase his question without sounding like an absolute dickhead. As it turns out, that wasn’t necessary; Ilya seemed to get what Scott was trying to ask.

“I do not have any family left. My parents are dead, I haven’t spoken to my brother in two years, which is a good thing,” he quickly added as explanation and probably to keep them from asking any other question about that. “So there is no one to tell. Or to keep secret from.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Scott was a bit surprised how many similarities were there between himself and Ilya Rozanov.

Which Ilya seemed to think as well. “We have more in common than I previously thought.”

“And I got not a fucking clue what to do with that,” Scott answered honestly.

“It will never be talked about again after tonight,” Ilya made clear. “So you can ignore it.”

Scott doubted he’d be able to, but fair enough. And asked another question that had been gnawing at him. “Does someone from your teams know?”

“Hayden Pike does. He figured it out after Ilya joined Ottawa.”

“But no one else.”

Fuck. Scott knew how that felt. How coming out was not something that was a possibility. And telling people about his partner even less so.

Shane seemed to follow Scott’s train of thought, and he took a deep breath. “We’re not… I mean…” He looked between Kip and Scott. “We’re not coming out. We…”

“We can’t.” Rozanov continued, when it seemed like Shane didn’t quite know how to finish this.

Hollander gently nudged his side at that. “But we are trying to change the narrative here. Ottawa and Montreal are close, and the rivalry is not so intense. And we’re gonna start a charity together.”

“Oh wow.”

“Yeah, we will announce it at the end of the season.” He didn’t look at Ilya, but took his hand, tapping his fingers against the back of Ilya’s hand. “So with both of us in Canada, and the foundation, there are reasons for us to spend time together. To be nice to each other in public.”

“Changing the narrative,” Scott nodded. “That is really smart.”

“We are not the two best hockey players just for our looks,” Ilya winked.

“That’s something really fucking brave you did there,” Scott said, not letting himself be goaded into chirping territory. “Leaving Boston.”

“Must’ve been a tough decision.”

“No,” Ilya shook his head, turning to Shane. His eyes so full of love. Not an ounce of regret or waiver in his voice. “Very easy choice. And correct choice. I have a family in Ottawa now. And we see each other more regularly, not just ten times a year or so.”

It sounded so simple out of his mouth. Scott doubted it was that clear-cut. After all the team in Ottawa sucked. Majorly. They hadn’t won a game all season, Scott’d be surprised if they started winning any time soon. And he very much doubted that Ilya Rozanov, notoriously competitive and way too fucking good for that team, particularly enjoyed that. Bringing that up right now would probably be some level of fucked up, though.

So Scott changed the topic.

“I am honest, I didn’t expect your relationship to turn into that. Although I could have figured, after you fought me on the ice for Roza… Ilya.”

“Oh yeah. That.” Shane’s blush was back in full force. “Sorry about that.”

“Nah, I get it,” Scott chuckled. “I was outta line, too. I was pissed and took it way too far. Makes sense you lost it.”

“So much sense.” Ilya batted his eyelashes at Shane. “Knight in shining armour, defending my honour.”

“Yeah, no, I’m pretty sure he defended his own honour.”

“Was still hot.”

That was not a look he wanted to see on Rozanov’s face, but was unfortunately kept from moving on by Kip. “Wait, was that the thing where you had the whole racism allegations?”

“Mhm,” Scott nodded. “I can’t even blame people, for Shane Hollander to freak out like that and start a fight it had to be fucked up. It was fucked up, I know that, but it makes sense that people thought I said something racist. I do appreciate though that your team put out a statement clearing that all up.”

“Yeah, of course. I should probably tell my mom the truth though, I’m pretty sure she never really believed me when I told her you weren’t being racist.”

“I’d appreciate that. Your mother is freaking terrifying.”

“She’s not…” Shane started, but Ilya immediately interrupted him.

“Oh, so you have met her?”

“We talked once or twice during some gala or something. Uhm, how do I explain this,” he said to Kip, who looked a little confused having no idea who Shane’s mother was. “The hockey world doesn’t agree on much, but we do all agree that Yuna Hollander is the most protective and scariest of momma-bear-managers out there.”

“She’s really not that intense,” Shane tried to defend his mother.

“She is a very wonderful person,” Ilya started. “But when we told her that I would transfer to Ottawa to be closer to Shane, she was disappointed that I was not more loyal to the team that drafted me.”

Scott and Kip chuckled, as Shane just rolled his eyes.

“It’s wonderful that she loves you so much, Shane,” Kip smiled.

“Yeah. So I really would appreciate if she knew that I was being a dick about you and Rozanov, not about you being Asian.”

“Ah, so you would rather be homophobic than racist,” Ilya commented. “And have her be mad on behalf of both sons?”

“There’s no way I’m getting out of this, is there?” Scott asked Kip, who was full-on laughing now.

“He’s not gonna let you,” he observed quite fittingly, at least judging from that shit-eating grin on Rozanov’s face. “And in general I don’t think you will get out of that, seeing as the two of you are not known for ever doing stuff like that. Fighting I mean.”

“Is because they are boring,” Ilya chirped up, and Shane hit his shoulder.

“Yeah, exactly,” Kip continued, and this time it was Scott gently slapping his fiancé’s arm. “That’s why everyone was so scandalized.”

“Well…” Scott looked eyes with Shane, whose face mirrored the awkwardness Scott was feeling right now, before turning back to Kip. “It was the first roadtrip after realizing what a ‘Blue Moon over Brooklyn’ does for my game.”

As Kip melted, Rozanov whispered to Shane: “is my English shit or did that not make sense?”

“I’m sure it’ll make sense in a moment.”

“It means that it was the first roadtrip after meeting Kip,” Scott explained, keeping his eyes on his boyfriend. “Got my smoothies from him. Every game day, and, I don’t know, I was on a streak. And then we went on the road. Guess the missing smoothies really fucked my play, ‘cause we were back to losing.” He took a breath. “First to Boston. And then we lost in Montreal.” He turned to Hollander, who didn’t seem to feel bad about beating the Admirals, but there was a bit of a meek undertone, for what happened next. “Getting chirped by Rozanov is one thing, that’s what he does. Didn’t expect it from Canada’s golden boy. I was frustrated, annoyed, and getting chirped by Hollander? I kinda lashed out.”

“You’re starting to sound like him,” Shane quoted Scott’s words.

“So a compliment, yes?” Ilya grinned.

“Thought you found us out. Which I guess you had. So, I freaked out. The first fight on the ice I ever started,” Shane shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant about it all. And failed at that.

“Your first ever fight was for me.”

“More like because of you,” Shane corrected.

“Doesn’t matter.” Ilya pulled Shane a little closer against his side, nuzzling his face against the side of Shane’s head, whispering something in Russian, that had Shane blushing. Fuck, they were adorable.

Shane turned back to Scott, Ilya still snuggled up against him. “I do feel bad about freaking out on you.”

“Honoured to have been your first fight, kid,” Scott grinned back. “And it was a low blow on my part to let my frustrations out on you.”

“Hey, that’s hockey, right?”

“And I think we all know there are better ways to let out frustrations,” Ilya smirked.

And Scott had to agree. “This story does end a little later, at this gala, where some clumsy server spilled food…”

“Omigod,” Kip groaned, as he threw his head back.

“…all over my nice tuxedo, and then ended up in my bed,” Scott grinned at the majorly blushed Kip.

“And then you didn’t let me leave.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m not an idiot.” He grabbed Kip’s hand, gently squeezing it, and forgetting for just a moment that they currently had guests sitting at their table. Rozanov’s “aww” reminded him of that again.

“Sweet story to tell the grandkids how you met.”

“What’s the sweet story you’ll tell your grandchildren about how this started?”

“Well, children,” Ilya snorted, “once upon a time your grandfathers were in the shower together and…”

“Ok!” Shane grabbed Ilya’s arm, to stop him from talking, and Scott hardly managed to keep the laugh in.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like a story you should be telling,” Kip chuckled.

“It wasn’t like we hooked up the first time we met.”

“When did you first meet?”

Ilya took Shane’s hand, that still held onto his arm, and threaded their fingers together. Such a soft smile. “He introduced himself at the Junior Prospect Cup. Was a little awkward, and very cute,” he grinned.

“Love at first sight?”

“Intrigue at first sight,” Shane rephrased it. “But I didn’t think… I mean, I didn’t realize I was into guys at that point.”

“Can I ask when you did?”

“After the draft.” Shane looked eyes with Ilya. “We were working out together. And, I don’t know…”

“I was testing. I was intrigued, in that way. Tried to figure out if he was, too,” Ilya continued. “Tempting the perfect Canadian hockey boy.”

“And?” Scott grinned, asking even though he knew the answer. “Were you?”

“Let’s just say it made me realize I should break up with my girlfriend at the time,” he admitted, with a shrug. There was something in his look that made Scott believe his nonchalant attitude at that was not a hundred percent real.

“You broke up with two girlfriends because of me?”

“I did not,” Shane corrected him, taking a sip from his Ginger Ale. “Rose broke up with me. She got it, you know,” he added, when Scott’s eyebrow rose a little questioningly.

Scott had so many questions. He wasn’t sure if he really should ask them, though.

“Story is simple,” Rozanov threw in, getting the curiosity. “I was nice, Shane freaked out and dated a movie star to deal with it.”

“Ok, that raised so many more questions than it answered, but in a way I fucking love that for you,” Kip giggled. “Go big or go home, hm?”

“Yeah, you’re really not doing things half-assed.”

“I guess so,” Shane shrugged, not really keeping eye contact with any of them. He hardly had all night long, Scott realized. “This, our whole thing we had over the years… I was this close to break up with him half the time. Because I caught feelings. And thought to myself that unless I break it off any time soon it’s gonna crush me even more to do it later. In my mind that break up was inevitable, because for us dating is impossible. And then, yeah. We were at Ilya’s place and things were… Different. Intimate in a very different way. And it freaked me out. So I left. Met Rose a few days later and… It felt like the obvious thing to do.” Shane took a breath, figuring out how to continue his story. Scott didn’t mind the break; he hadn’t ever heard Hollander say that many things uninterrupted. And be that emotional on top of it. “We hit it off right away, she is amazing and we get along so well. And that’s what I’m supposed to do, right? Date the perfect girl. So I did. But she clocked me. I guess I wasn’t as convincing as I thought I’d be.”

Scott stole a glance at Ilya. He was guarded for sure. Tried not to show too many of his feelings right there, tried to keep it under wraps. He was trying too hard, though; that whole part of their history still pained Ilya in some ways, he was determined not to let anyone see.

“So she broke up with me. And got me to admit to myself that I’m gay. And that that is alright. And I realized that I don’t want to try this with anyone else.” He gently nudged Ilya’s side, who let out a sigh, but a bit of a smile spread over his face. “As of All-Stars in Tampa that was it for me.”

Rozanov mumbled something in Russian that Shane didn’t seem to understand either.

“The game where Marleau crashed into you,” Ilya sighed. “That night I wanted to end it.” Hollander’s eyes went wide; that was clearly news to him. Scott didn’t dare to move; he and Kip probably shouldn’t be here for this conversation, but there was no getting out of it. So he wouldn’t do anything to draw attention to him. “I was so in love. So much happened when I was in Moscow, that I knew it. But we cannot be together, I thought that. It was too much, I couldn’t… But then the crash. A week after my father’s funeral you do this.”

“Fuck.” Kip’s hiss was out there before he could stop himself, wincing a little, when the two turned to them. “Sorry. I didn’t… Sorry.”

“No, is ok. Is… yeah. Fuck,” Ilya chuckled, blinking a little too often to be relaxed. “I guess in hindsight it is lucky. Because I couldn’t break up with you because you were in the hospital,” he added. “And then you invited me to spend the summer. I thought it was impossible. I was already packing to go to Moscow. Not because I wanted to go but felt like the correct thing to do. And then fucking Admirals win the Stanley Cup,” he snorted, properly turning to face Scott. “And you kissed on the ice.”

“Ok…” Scott had the feeling that the emotional gut punch was only yet to come, though he wasn’t sure that those admissions could be topped.

“I saw you kiss on the ice,” Ilya repeated, his eyes locked onto Scott in an intensity he wouldn’t be able to stand for much longer. “And I realized that it is possible. Not like this, not like you, but we don’t need to be like you. But if you can have what you want, I can have what I want. Who I want.”

Wow.

“So thank you, Scott Hunter. Because you were brave, I was brave. We were brave.”

“Yeah,” Shane added. “Thank you.”

Scott was speechless. That… Yeah, he knew that his Coming-Out had been impactful on people. This was just something else entirely. Kip gently squeezing his hand helped Scott anchor himself to this reality. “Thank you, for saying all this. It means a lot. Your trust.”

“I don’t think there is anyone else we can trust with this like you.”

Yeah, he might have a point with that.

“You look like you need more vodka,” Ilya commented, looking between Scott and Kip.

“Maybe… Fuck, I thought our relationship was dramatic. And complicated.”

“Another thing Shane and I do better than you. Like hockey. And looking good. And being young,” Ilya grinned. This time, Scott let himself be goaded into chirping. Not because he really felt the need to, but he got a feeling that Ilya needed to. Maybe Shane as well. But they had just bared their souls in a way maybe they hadn’t seen coming before getting here today and a change of topic would be good for all of them.

“Wow,” Scott snorted. “Very original.”

“Hm?”

“I’m just saying. Might want to switch it up, the old jokes are getting… well, old.”

“Are you…” Rozanov’s face fell, and Scott couldn’t keep the grin in.

“…calling you predictable and boring? Yes, I am.”

“Not my fault,” Shane quickly threw in, before Ilya could accuse him of that again.

“I should probably warn you that Scott has been spending quite some time with catty gays, which has him better at chirping,” Kip grinned. “Yes, I am very proud of the good influence I have on my man.”

“So gay people are ruining my fun?”

“Aren’t you…”

“I’m bisexual,” he clarified. “Being tortured by boring gay people.”

“You love it,” Shane mumbled, not quietly enough for Scott not to overhear but he tried to pretend he had.

“Oh, so now you want to include Hunter in the fun?”

“I don’t know what you consider fun, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be a part of it,” Scott quickly made clear, especially when Shane started blushing again.

“Makes sense.”

“Because I’m boring?” Scott finished for Ilya. “Any complaints?” He turned to Kip, who shook his head with a smirk.

“Not a single one.”

“Ok. Then I’m fine with being boring.”

Ilya took a deep breath, critically looking at Scott. “Chirping you is more fun on the ice.”

“Lucky you we’ll play each other the day after tomorrow.”

The rest of the evening was almost lovely, if Scott dared to use that word. It was lighter for sure, the heavy conversations dealt with. A lot of talk centered around hockey, and Scott was almost a little sorry for Kip, who half the time had no idea who they were talking about. But he still seemed to have a good time. And besides, Scott could always make up for it once they had the apartment to themselves again. Kip did tell them a little bit about himself, about art history, about working at the university. Their guests knew about as much about art as Scott, and it was nice that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t quite follow along with his art history info dump. It was still so fucking cute to see him in his element like that.

A badly suppressed chuckle from the other couple interrupted Kip’s story.

“I’m sorry,” Rozanov chuckled, grinning at Scott. “But it is just very funny to see what gets you going.”

“Gets me going?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Yes. I did not think it would be lecture about art history. I figured maybe doing taxes. Or making spreadsheets. Something boring, you know?”

Kip was trying really hard not to laugh at that, as Ilya just grinned at him.

“Shane, got any ammunition for me here?” Scott asked.

“None that keeps me out of it.”

Ilya said something in Russian. He said it very slowly, enunciating very clearly. Shane still looked a little confused, like he only understood half of it. He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, looking at no one in particular, when he said: “doing laundry.”

“Really?” Now Scott couldn’t keep the grin in. “Laundry?”

“That is not my fault,” Ilya defended himself. “He is doing this to me. Is because you always fold your clothes before sex. Now is like Pavlov. I react. Not my fault.”

“Doing puzzles with his dad and the laundry? Rozanov, are you really sure I am the boring one between the two of us?”

His face fell, if only for a moment, before he narrowed his eyes at Scott. “I will make you regret this.”

“Sure thing,” he grinned back.

“I cannot believe you made me come here today,” he directed at Shane.

“Made you come here? It was your fucking idea!”

“Of course it was,” Scott threw in, “he thinks I’m hot.” Fuck, this felt good. Scott couldn’t believe it, he was actually winning a chirp off against Rozanov, who looked genuinely pissed off. What a day.

“You think my fiancé is hot?” Kip asked, eyebrow raised.

“Not anymore,” he snorted, and neither Scott nor Kip could keep their laughter in at that; even Shane had to chuckle.

“Oh, how will I ever cope,” Scott deadpanned, before grinning again.

“Your game in two days is gonna be a whole mess, isn’t it?” It for sure had the makings of it.

“Well, Ilya’s got two more days to come up with better and more original chirps than my age.”

“I will us this time wisely, don’t you worry,” he smirked, locking eyes with Scott.

“I swear to god, if you spend these few nights that we miraculously have in the same town together thinking about another guy, I’m gonna make you regret it,” Shane snorted.

“That is a very good point, you are right. You will have all my attention,” Ilya all but purred and leaned in. He whispered something in Shane’s ear; not that Scott could hear it but from Shane’s blush and Ilya’s smirk, he was pretty sure that he didn’t want to know what he had said in any case.

“I have a feeling we’ve reached that point where we have taken away enough of your alone time,” he observed.

“So you will kick us out of your apartment?” In mock hurt, Ilya put his hand on his chest.

“Hey, if you want to spend more time chatting with us, you’re more than welcome. But the two of you look like you could do with some privacy, and do some laundry.”

“Then I guess we’ll leave you to your art lecture,” Ilya added on, his smirk not quite managing to distract from his blush. Shane didn’t even try to hide his.

“Mhm, good idea,” Kip grinned over, and that in a way that had Scott in a similar predicament as Shane. “We should do a proper, detailed, in-depth lesson.” Yeah. Their guests needed to get out of this apartment asap. Kip nudged his leg under the table, a little admonition to keep it together. Just a little longer. And yeah, he had a point.

“How long do you think we can push it until Hunter will actually throw us out?” Ilya chuckled, nudging Shane’s side.

“From the looks of it not much longer, but we probably shouldn’t push it,” Shane grinned right back. “Besides.” He turned to his boyfriend and said something in Russian. Even Scott, with his non-existent Russian abilities, could hear how unsteady and broken it was, but Ilya’s face lit up as if Shane had just flawlessly recited Anna Karenina.

“Yes, we will be going now,” he said, not looking away from Shane.

“Thank you.” Shane was the first to break eye contact and turn to Scott and Kip. “For this really nice dinner and this whole evening.”

“Thank you for reaching out. And coming over. Didn’t expect I’d say this, but this was really fun. And maybe, in a couple of months, when we’ve all had a chance to recuperate, we could do something like this again.”

“So.” Kip kept his head resting on Scott’s chest but looked up, twisting himself just enough that they were able to lock eyes. “Successful day?”

“Is that a challenge?” he shot back. They were cuddled up in bed after a quick shower, which had followed a properly in-depth art lecture. While not quite breathless anymore, Scott’s head still was spinning a bit, and his whole body felt… Right. Just right. Perfect. A little tingly still, in the good way. So yeah, Scott would say they had been successful.

“Maybe,” Kip laughed, wrapping his arms a little tighter around Scott’s waist. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Fair.

“I’m talking about dinner, though.”

“Right.” Scott wasn’t a hundred percent sure what exactly counted as successful when talking about a double date. A double date with two superstars of the hockey world no less. “I think so. Nobody yelled, the chirps stayed chirps without going full on insult, and I think they enjoyed themselves. After getting over their panic. But yeah. I had a good time.”

“Good. Me too.” He turned his face back down, settling once more on Scott’s chest. “Worth the nerves?”

“Mhm,” he nodded. As he was letting the thoughts drift back to these last few hours, Scott ran his fingers through Kip’s hair. “It was weird for sure. To see this side to them. So personal. So…”

“Open? Honest?” Kip suggested, when Scott couldn’t find the right word.

“Something like that, yeah. Never thought I’d see the day,” he all but chuckled. “It was nice to see the people behind what they usually portray on the ice. Or in front of the cameras. And it’s also nice to get a bit of a look at how that relationship works.”

“It works really well, doesn’t it? It’s actually so adorable.”

“For sure.”

“And yeah, they make one hot couple.” Scott didn’t need to see his face to know that Kip was not even trying to bite down his grin.

“Stop trying to make me jealous. But yeah,” he had to admit, “they really do.”

Silence fell over them, lost in his thoughts Scott kept on brushing his fingers through Kip’s curls. Thinking to that relationship he saw today. Or the snapshot of one. Of what Ilya and Shane had to go through. How much more they had to go through that they had not talked about today. How much harder their situation was compared to what Scott had.

“I’m so lucky I got you,” he sighed. “I mean, we had our challenges and ups and downs and all that, but all in all? I wouldn’t change a single thing.”