Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Multi

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Ilya Rozanov/Svetlana Vetrova, Eric Bennett/Holly | Eric Bennett's Ex-Wife, Hayden Pike/Jackie Pike, Kip Grady/Scott Hunter, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Eric Bennett/Kyle Swift

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Svetlana Vetrova, Shane Hollander, Eric Bennett, Holly | Eric Bennett's Ex-Wife, Kyle Swift, Maria Villanueva, Kip Grady, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Hayden Pike's Children

Additional Tags:

First Kiss, Morning Kisses, Cheek Kisses, Gentle Kissing, Neck Kissing, Implied Sexual Content, Past Relationship(s), Established Relationship, Pre-Canon, During Canon, Post-Canon, Good Friend Hayden Pike, Supportive Jackie Pike, Ilya Rozanov & Svetlana Vetrova Friendship, Show-Canon Svetlana Vetrova, Scott Hunter Loves Kip Grady, Kip Grady loves Scott Hunter, Married Kip Grady/Scott Hunter, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Happy Ending, Canon Timeline, Tumblr Prompt, Domestic Boyfriends, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Romantic Fluff

Language:

English

Series:

Part 14 of Incremental Gains, Part 18 of Betting on the 2026 Stanley Cup Play-offs

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-21 Completed: 2026-07-24 Words: 6,339 Chapters: 6/6

A Trail of Kisses

Summary

The varied roles kisses can play in the evolution of a relationship. Inspired by a list of tumblr prompts.

Notes

June 11, 2026: Round 4 - Game 5 - Vegas/Carolina 2-4

Thanks to ladyamesindy for the beta, and to my friend, Lexi, for helping with timelines <3

Anything in both bold and italics is the characters speaking in Russian.

Chapter 1: Pre-Canon

“That tickles.”

Finishing the circle she’d been tracing around the bruise, Holly brushed a kiss over the discolored skin.  “You can take a hit from a puck but you can’t handle my fingertips?”

She could hear Eric’s smile.  One arm pillowed behind his head as he watched her post-game ritual.  Checking over every inch of him to make sure that he’d reported all of his injuries, not just the ones a hockey player might think mattered.  “I didn’t say you had to stop.”

Shifting directions so she could run her tongue over Eric’s nipple, it was Holly’s turn to smile.  “Who said I’d listen to you anyway?”

“Your dad.”  Eric’s voice had gone tight, the hand on Holly’s back curling momentarily into a fist.  Then it relaxed, as did Eric’s voice.  “He seems to think I’m a bad influence on you.”

“That’s because he has no faith in your choice of careers.”  Pushing herself up on her elbows, Holly looked down at her boyfriend.  At her best friend, who she’d finally resorted to simply daring to kiss her.  And she’d been right – Eric Bennett was an excellent kisser.

He’d proven to be excellent at other things, too.

“Seems fair for a parent to worry about their kid’s future,” Eric said.  Shirtless in her bed.  Bruised but victorious in yet another game.

“To worry, sure,” Holly agreed.  “But this is bordering on controlling.”

Eric’s smile was so fond it almost hurt.  “Nobody controls you, Hols.”

No, they didn’t, which was why no amount of tense lunches with her parents was going to stop her from convincing this sometimes idiot Harvard graduate to propose to her one of these days.  Because whatever her father might think, Eric Bennett was an excellent goalie, and one day people outside of Boston would know that.  Or Hamilton, because his hometown had to know they’d lost some of their local talent when he’d agreed to go to an American school.  Risk playing for an American team.

“Find anything I didn’t tell you about?”

Eric’s fingertips were the ones tracing circles now.  Drawing their way across her shoulder blade before dipping, demurely, under the strap of her bra.

They really did raise them different up there, huh?

“I think so,” Holly said, her tone resigned as Eric’s grin got as close to victorious as she ever got to see off the ice.  More hopeful than gloating.  “But…I could also double check.”

“It’s important to confirm your work.”

“You really don’t know anything about business school, do you?”

Eric shrugged one shoulder.  “In the English department we usually call it editing, but that’s a bad thing to do with a business report.”

A mid-tier hockey goalie with an English degree.  Her father might never forgive her.

But that was his problem.  Holly’s problem, in this moment, was how to convince the athletic Boy Scout in her bed that she wanted him to take the rest of his clothes off.

Eric’s fingers followed the shape of her spine before stopping at her bra line.  A gentle tug, and suddenly those pesky hooks that kept everything in place all day were loose.

“One handed,” Holly approved.  “You’re getting good at that.”

“Helps to practice,” Eric agreed.

Holly’s hum was almost a purr.  “Anything else you’d like to practice?”

And then she was on her back, her bra missing entirely, and she found she was temporarily much less concerned about the rest of Eric’s clothing.

---

They’d talked about it.  More than once, even.  And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to.  Svetlana was his friend, and he wouldn’t have to pretend he didn’t like her around his family.  For more reasons than one.

It was still a surprise though, when she leaned in and kissed him.  A surprise that she did it – the kiss felt mostly like he’d imagined a kiss would.

Holding still as she sat back, Ilya tried to remember how to breathe.  What he was maybe supposed to do next.

Back on her side of the couch, Svetlana laughed at him.  Quietly.  “There.  Now it’s done.”

“That’s a stupid reason to kiss someone,” Ilya said.

Svetlana shrugged.  “I had to.”  That familiar grin.  “You were never going to kiss me first.”

“I was, too!”

“Ilya,” Svetlana said, and he scowled at her tone, “you hesitate.  You know what you want but you don’t chase it.”

“I chase things just fine,” Ilya grumbled.

“Then I must conclude you did not really want to kiss me.”

Letting out an outraged squawk, Ilya lunged forward across the couch, pinning Svetlana to the plush cushions with a pretend growl that she didn’t believe for a second.  “Of course I wanted to kiss you.”

She looked up at him, still grinning.  Still defiant in that way that had made them friends from the start.  “Prove it.”

Leaning down, Ilya kissed her, smiling in triumph through his best friend’s laugh.

---

“You know, it’s not really fair,” Holly mumbled into his shoulder.  “I never get to help you up the stairs.”

Eric chuckled and nudged the lightswitch on with his elbow.  “You help me all the time.  Remember when we thought I’d done something dramatic to my knee?”

“You mean the time it turned out you were fine?”  Holly hiccuped and leaned on him some more.  “For which I am grateful.”

“Me, too.”

“But you, Mr. Clean Living, have never been so shitfaced you can’t remember which bedroom is yours.”

“My apologies,” Eric said and steered Holly away from the guest bedroom.  “I’ll try to get hit in the head more often.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Reaching their actual bedroom, Eric nudged Holly through the door before shutting off the light in the hallway.  At her squawk at the sudden darkness, he snaked past her and turned on one of the bedside lamps.  The one on his side, since it was less likely to hurt her eyes.

“See, you just,” Holly demonstrated with her arms, “snake right past people.  You could totally have played offense.”

“But I wanted to be a goalie,” Eric said.

“I know.”  Draping her arms around his neck, Holly kissed him, mostly on the lips.  “Always a team player, my Eric.”

“Your Eric,” he repeated, smiling as she closed her eyes and buried her face in his chest.

“God, I’m gonna feel like shit in the morning.”

“Good thing I’m good at making eggs.”

Holly glared at him, or tried to, before all but climbing into his arms.  “Be good at putting me to bed, first, OK?”

Eric kissed his wife on her forehead, happy her parents finally seemed to be coming around.  Six years after the wedding.  Appeased by his being signed to the New York Admirals, and not even as the backup.  “OK, sweetheart.  Let’s get you to bed.

 

 

Chapter 2: Early Canon

Svetlana would chew him out for it.  Probably more than once.  But there was something about the guy who’d hunted him down “just to say hi” that he couldn’t get out of his head.

Something about Canada’s rising superstar that made him want to see how close to trouble he could get before shit actually hit the fan.

A promising young Russian hockey prodigy doesn’t have trouble finding company, and yet here he was.  Alone in his hotel room.  Thinking of dark eyes and a wide smile and freckles that danced across a pale nose.  Lips that just begged for a better use than being kissed.

Ilya groaned, his hand fisting against the front of his sweats.  Dragging the moment out.

Shane Hollander wasn’t the kind of guy a stranger could hit up for a good time.  Not without a few rounds of teasing first.  Something to tempt such an insufferable do-gooder into considering if he might be interested in a little fun.

Which would be a little fun all on its own.

But that would have to wait until the next time they were in the same city.

For now, he’d have to content himself with a smile meant for him and the flash of heat in those eyes when he’d promised there was no way Hollander’s team would win.

---

Jackie bit Hayden’s lower lip, grinning as he whimpered.  “Welcome home, honey.”

Road trips were part of a hockey career.  Staying behind was part of being married to a hockey player.  And tempting as it could be to ask to go along, even without the rules to say no, Jackie knew how intently Hayden could focus on something.  Even if he seemed like he was messing around on his phone, she knew his mind was all hockey when he was gone.  Hockey and tiny plans to make Shane snicker, because so far he seemed to be the only human on Earth who could get that sound out of Hockey’s Golden Boy.

But the road trip was over.  Everybody was home, greeting their roommate or their plants or their dog or their spouse.

Jackie breathed a laugh as Hayden picked her up, wrapping her runner’s legs around his hockey player’s waist.  Kissing him again as he found his way to the nearest bed.

There was no rule that said only guests could have sex in the guest room.  And after so many days of hockey, hockey, hockey, her husband undoubtedly needed an easy break.  Something…else…he could intently focus on.

---

Maria glared at him.  “The perfect man literally just walked out of your life.”

“He did not,” Kip said.  “He went back to his…whatever he was doing.”

“He came in here, bought a smoothie, and walked.  Out.”

Slumping back against the counter, Kip sighed.  “Yeah…I know.”

“And you just let him do it.”

“What was I supposed to do, hop the register and jump him right there?”

Maria lowered her chin.  “Girl.”

Kip sighed again and told himself his glance at the door wasn’t longing.  “Well, who knows…maybe he’ll come back.”

He heard Maria snort a laugh.  “Only you would be that lucky.

 

 

Chapter 3: Change

Whoever this Montreal Jane was, she must be important, even if Ilya couldn’t say so out loud.  He kissed differently now.  When he kissed her at all.

“How do they expect us to take their team seriously when they leave their goalie wide open like that?” Ilya asked, the hand he’d raised in outrage dropping to the bed in disdain.  “We should grind them into ice for forcing their man to play defense all by himself.”

“I thought goalies were idiots who didn’t know how to skate,” Svetlana teased her old friend.  Her perhaps ex-fuck buddy.

Ilya rolled his eyes.  “That’s chirping.  Every team needs their goalie.”  He flopped backward onto the bed, his head finding its usual place on his thigh.  “I would never leave Bakardi in such a position.”

“That would require the other team having possession of the puck, which you never like to do,” Svetlana agreed.

They watched the game play out on the TV, the blue light of the electronics highlighting the blue-white of the ice, made all the brighter by the darkness of the room.  The announcers rattling off statistics that only meant something to maybe half the people watching as the two teams zipped around each other.

Ilya might be right about LA’s goalie, but they had a few Forwards who knew how to skate.

“You should keep an eye on Coleson,” Svetlana said.  She carded her fingers through Ilya’s curls, wondering if Jane had figured out yet how much he enjoyed that.

“Two eyes, as often as I can spare them.”

“Hm?”

“It’s something Connors says.”

“Your sometimes roommate?”

Ilya tilted his head back to look up at her.  “Well I can hardly bring you.”

“Apologies,” Svetlana said, unapologetically.  “I did not think he was that kind of roommate.”

“Jealousy does not look good on you,” Ilya said, lunging up to nip at her nose.  He grinned as Svetlana laughed.  “Though he is a good guy.  Not interested, I don’t think, but I hope he finds a nice girl when he decides to start looking.”

“How very team-spirited of you.”

“Unlike fucking Los Angeles,” Ilya growled, turning his attention back to the game.  He settled in, thinking up more colorful insults as the Period wore on, and for once Svetlana didn’t argue with him.  Didn’t needle his pride in ways that would make him yelp but not snap.  Let him roast the other team without their usual fight about who on said team was actually a good player.

She let him have this, because then she could have it, too.  She’d always known that one day it wouldn’t be hers anymore.  She’d loved Ilya almost as long as he’d loved her, but she wasn’t his best life.  Always a part of it, but there was someone out there who fit him better.  Perhaps even this Montreal Jane.

But for tonight, at least, they were still two Russian kids.  One who loved hockey and one who loved people.  Which was why both of them threw their drinks at the TV when Chicago scored on LA’s goalie yet again.

---

 “This,” Hayden mumbled between kisses on his face, “is much less romantic when it’s not you.”  He grunted, rolling his shoulder as a tiny knee landed on it.  “Hey, sweetheart.  Good morning.”

“Morning, Daddy!” Ruby chirped as Jackie held her mostly off of her father.  Unlike their daughters, Jackie did actually try to avoid Hayden’s post-game bruises.  “Up!  Up!”

“Is this payback for something?” Hayden asked, rolling onto his side with a groan.  “Did I screw up the dishwasher again?”

Setting their little girl on the floor so she could immediately run out of the room, shrieking, Jackie allowed herself the luxury of flopping down on the bed for just a moment.  “No, this is not payback, and yes, you screwed up the dishwasher again.”

It was a truth universally known that in every house, there was one person who was good at Tetris and one person who loaded things like dishwashers with the logic of an inebriated raccoon.

By way of unneeded apology, Hayden leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.  “My bad.”

“It’s OK.”

“I’ll get it one day.”

“You really won’t.”

Hayden hummed.  “Mm…no, probably not.”

Jackie laughed, the sound no less joyous as her husband rolled on top of her.  “Hayden, no.  Kids.  Breakfast.”  He kissed, ignoring such mundanities.  “Practice.”

“Ugh.”

He didn’t mean it, but she appreciated the effort.  “Come on.  Time to get up.”  Hayden cocked an eyebrow and Jackie remembered yet again why she’d been so excited to marry this one.  “Not that much time.”

“I can be fast,” Hayden said, peppering Jackie’s face with kisses this time.

He could.  Her mother would be mortified to know how fast.  But not that fast.  “Neither of us is fast enough to beat a toddler, babe.”

Hayden sighed.  “We need another playdate.”

“You need fewer road games,” Jackie said as Hayden rolled off her.

Hayden grunted.  “Maybe we dump the kids at your mom’s for a week this summer and just make up for lost time.”

“We’d both sleep that whole week,” Jackie said.  Reaching over, she patted Hayden’s thigh.  Just high enough to earn her a wounded look.  “Maybe you don’t invite Shane over for dinner tonight?  And I’ll see what I can do about dessert?”

She made it as far as the edge of the bed before he tackled her.  “I’ll handle dessert.”

---

Kip huffed, indignant at the very idea.  “We are not adding kale to this!”

“Why not?”  Scott didn’t seem nearly upset enough.  “It’s good for you.”

“It’s gross!”

“It’s grass.”

“It’s a leaf,” Kip corrected, “and it will ruin the flavor profile.”

Scott hummed, unconvinced as he moved dirty bowls from one counter to the other.  Being helpful in the best way he knew how, considering that of the many skills Scott Hunter could have taken time to master, cooking had never made it on the list.  Which was fine, since Kip loved to cook.

Just. Not. With. Kale.

“If you’re gonna be difficult about this, you can finish the soup yourself,” Kip said, reaching over to shut off the burner.

There was the familiar click and hiss as the flame shut off, accompanied by the equally familiar but not usually stove-related sensation of Scott’s arms around his waist.  A kiss pressed against his cheek. “I’m not being difficult.  I was just making suggestions.”

“Stupid suggestions,” Kip grumbled.  He tried to stay annoyed – he hated kale – but it was hard with his boyfriend tucked against him like that.  Pressed as close as they could be, trailing light, not-quite apologetic kisses over the soft fabric of Kip’s t-shirt.

Scott hummed again, nosing at Kip’s collar.  “I’ll try to think of better ones next time.”

Kip huffed, indignation all but depleted.  “Maybe  I’ll add feta next time.”

The kiss lingered against his ear.  “Now that would be uncalled for.”

Chapter 4: Doubt

Chapter Notes

June 14, 2026: Round 4 - Game 6 - Vegas/Carolina 0-3

He had to break this off.  It was too risky.  They’d both lose too many things.  Important things.

And he couldn’t stand it if someone so important lost something that mattered over a guy like him.

“I thought you said practice wasn’t until noon?”

Doing up his zipper, Ilya looked over to the man on the bed.  Rolled over on his side, the closest Shane ever got to sprawling, a grin that wanted to tease pulling at his lips.

Fuck, he’d waited too long.

“I forgot,” Ilya said, wincing inside at his own relief that Shane was bad at spotting a liar.  “I made plans with Marleau.  There is new restaurant he wants to try.”

“For breakfast?”

Ilya shrugged as he snagged his shirt from the back of a nearby chair.  “He is weird.”

Shane snorted, his head balanced on one hand, his elbow putting a faint dent in the mattress.  “Sometimes I wish I could eat like you do.  Just…whatever, whenever.”

He couldn’t help himself.  Ilya smiled at the wistfulness in that voice.  The voice he might –

“No you don’t.”  Grabbing one of the discarded decorative pillows, he tossed it at Shane’s head.  “You like your chicken breasts.”

Certainly more than he’d liked Janice’s real ones.

Pain lanced through him as Shane laughed, a pillow to the face doing nothing but confirming that Ilya was a person he could be himself around.  Someone safe.

Fuck, he’d waited too long.

“Well, text me how the food is anyway.”  Tucking the pillow into his chest, Shane smiled up at him.  Beautiful and innocent and Ilya had to leave.  And never text this wonderful man again.  “You know, since I’ll probably never eat there.”

“Probably not,” Ilya said, crossing the room back to the bed.  He leaned down.  “They don’t serve chicken breasts.”

Shane didn’t kiss him back.  He stayed still, letting Ilya kiss him.  Letting Ilya say goodbye.

“We play Boston next month,” Shane said as Ilya pulled back.  “See…you then?”

Ilya nodded, knowing they couldn’t.  Knowing just as deeply that if Shane texted him, he would say yes.  Knowing that he’d be miserable until he had Shane in his arms, and then he’d be so happy he couldn’t breathe.  Until Shane left, and he remembered how badly they needed to stop this.  “Maybe.”

Shane’s smile could rival the summer sun.  “Liar.”

So much for Shane not being able to tell.

---

It probably should have been easier, going on a real date.  He and Eric had already been on at least three.  Back when Kyle had convinced himself that he could pull off a friends-with-benefits situation with someone like Eric Bennett.  Like Eric was in any way the kind of guy who did that; like Kyle hadn’t been half doomed just from watching Eric walk across his bar.

So this should be easy, right?  Because they’d totally already done it.

For Pete’s sake, Eric had already railed Kyle until he could see stars while the sun was still out.  Nevermind the…much gentler sex.  The one time that Kyle had nearly had a panic attack over, because there was no way to spin that as just helping a recently divorced guy come to grips with his bisexuality.

“Hey.”  Kyle jerked as Eric’s hand touched his elbow.  “You OK?”

“Yeah,” Kyle said, far too brightly.

Eric cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m just…”  Kyle gestured weakly at the building in front of them.  “The last time a guy took me to a restaurant this nice, he turned out to be…not…as nice.”

Something dark flickered behind Eric’s dark eyes, but it was gone in a moment.  “Well then it’s a low bar to beat.”

Kyle surprised himself by laughing.  “I mean…yeah.”  He let himself smile.  “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Not the lowest.  He wasn’t sure anyone could beat that.  But it had been pretty damn humiliating.

“What can I do?” Eric asked.  He’d stepped around Kyle, putting himself between Kyle and the building.  Almost as if he was…protecting him.

“Because that’s your job.”  Kyle kept looking at the painting in front of him.  As if it might distract him from the temptation standing behind him.  “Guarding the net.”

“Well,” Kyle said with a shrug, “not being married is a good start.”

He caught Eric’s wince and immediately wanted to die.  “Low bar, indeed.”

“Wait, no -”  Kyle’s hands were up and clutching the front of Eric’s jacket before he knew what he was doing.  “That’s not what I meant -”

It took instincts to play a sport.  Fast ones to play something like hockey.  And another type entirely to play goalie.  So maybe he should have been surprised when Eric stepped forward and kissed him.  Obvious as daylight, even if there wasn’t much of that left on New York’s version of a Spring evening.

Pulling back, Eric said, “This is about not hiding?  About letting everyone know I’m here with you?”

It wasn’t.  Or it was.  Kinda.  “Maybe.”

Eric nodded, leaning in to kiss him again.  “Let me know if I can make it more obvious, OK?”

---

“What if he ends up alone?”  Chewing on the lip of his holiday-themed paper cup, Hayden stared at nothing.  Thinking aloud because his feelings were too big to keep inside.  “Jackie, what if he never finds anyone who sees how awesome he is?”

“Then you can just marry him,” Jackie said, stealing another piece of cheese off of Hayden’s forgotten plate.

Her husband didn’t respond for a moment.  Too tied up in his concern for his best friend.  Then he twitched, turning to look at her with those wide blue eyes.  The same ones that had looked this happy about when he’d proposed, and when their kids had been born, and the first time he’d kissed her after winning the Cup.  “Really?”

“Most spouses would be more worried about how easy it was to convince you of this option,” Jackie deadpanned, but the smile snuck through anyway.

Because it was a ludicrous plan that no one would agree to, let alone a man like Shane, but Hayden’s earnest good intentions were written all over his face, and it was hard to fault a man for wanting the people in his life to be happy.  To be loved.

“We’d have to see if that’s legal,” Hayden said.  “I don’t remember what Canada says about three-ways.”

“That they’re a great idea!” a passing stranger shouted, their date for this evening giggling into their shoulder as they continued on to the back deck.

Jackie popped another piece of cheese into her mouth as she watched them go, listening half-heartedly to Hayden’s mumbling.  Wondering how many other people would consider her life to be outrageously lucky.  Wonderful, even, unlike that sad Christmas movie everyone insisted on claiming was their favorite.

“There’s got to be someone out there, though,” Hayden was saying, brows furrowed in determination.  “There has to be another you out there, you know?”

Jackie looked back at the man she loved.  “You think there’s another woman out there as great as me?”

“Gotta be,” Hayden said, nodding with conviction.  “Shane deserves someone as great as you, too.”

He wasn’t really listening, her silly man.  He was too busy caring.

Leaning in, Jackie kissed his cheek.  Stealing yet more cheese when Hayden looked at her, confused.  “If we can’t find this mystery person who is as good as me, I promise to let you ask Shane if he would like to marry the both of us.”  It was a devastating smile, even if the team photographer never agreed.  “But how about we survive this holiday party together first?”

Chapter 5: Better Days

Yanking on someone’s tie was an overrated move, anyway, and didn’t work nearly as well when it was a bowtie.  Which was fine, since Kip knew exactly what happened to Scott’s face when he hooked a couple of fingers behind his fiancé’s belt and tugged him closer.  Even before Kip grinned up at Scott in that way he knew would get him pressed up against the nearest wall.

“Did you need something?” Scott asked, his voice dipping into that lower register.  The one that wasn’t a growl, but definitely wasn’t something anybody else needed to hear.

“Maybe,” Kip said.  Tilting his chin up as he dropped his gaze.  Being as obvious as he could about looking at Scott’s lips.

“Maybe could mean a lot of things,” Scott said, and Kip shivered.  Looking up into brown eyes that didn’t really change color with desire, but it sure felt like they did.  Especially when Scott was looking at him with all that intent.  “Anything specific you need?”

“Maybe,” Kip breathed, Scott’s mouth just out of reach.

A mouth that was starting to grin.  “I mean, if you’re not sure…”

“Kiss me,” Kip said, leaning up to crash his mouth against Scott’s without waiting.  Groaning quietly into Scott’s laugh as his fiancé kissed him back.  One arm braced against the wall next to Kip’s head while Scott’s free hand traced a path down Kip’s back, settling contentedly in Kip’s back pocket.

After a long moment, Scott broke the kiss but stayed close.  The tip of his nose brushing against Kip’s cheek.  “Need anything else?”

Eyes closed, mouth already back against Scott’s, Kip breathed, “Maybe.”

---

Kyle trailed kisses over Eric’s cheeks, chasing away the tears.  “Babe, it’s OK.  It’s a good day.”

“I know it’s a good day.”  Eric hadn’t stopped smiling since they’d woken up this morning.  It was a look Kyle could get used to on his man.  “It’s one of the best days.”

Kip had looked as handsome as ever.  Elena had looked like she might explode from happiness and pride.  George Grady had given up long ago and didn’t care who saw him crying.  It was his son’s wedding day.  When the hell else was he supposed to lose it like this?

And even after their rocky start, Kyle could admit that Scott had looked good, too.  Genuinely admit it.  Cementing that things really had changed when he took Kip’s hands, smiling at him like Kip was his whole world, and all Kyle felt was joy that his friend had found a man who looked at him like that.  Like Kip deserved to be looked at.

The way, on his braver days, Kyle could admit Eric maybe looked at him, too.

“One of the best,” Kyle murmured, brushing away a new tear with the pad of his thumb.  “Hopefully one of many.”

He wondered how long it would take to get used to a man who smiled when he kissed.  “So long as I get to celebrate them all with you.”

---

“You realize,” Ilya panted, one hand still twisted in the bed sheets, “that this is going to bite everyone in the ass, yes?”

Brain still mostly offline, Shane didn’t realize a thing.  “It is?”

“Yes.”  Ilya kissed him.  Closed mouth but firm.  That specific kind of eager that meant trouble, when Shane could rally his thoughts enough to see it coming.  “Because now we are no longer a secret.”

“I know,” Shane said.  “I remember.”

The bad and the very, very good of it.

“So no more pretending that I do not want to kiss you where everyone can see.”

Shane blinked.  “What, like…by the windows?”

Ilya laughed, and Shane thought that might be the best part of no longer keeping secrets.  Ilya had a great laugh, and not enough people got to hear it.  Got to see the big, scary Russian be anything other than good at hockey.

“No,” Ilya said, kissing him again.  A little softer this time.  “I mean in public.”

“Oh.”  Made sense.  “So like…around cameras.”

“You are being intentionally dense,” Ilya muttered, and Shane caught about half of it.

Enough to know it wasn’t flattery.  “Hey!”

“You know how Hunter is constantly being disgusting when his husband is around?”

Shane nodded.

Ilya grinned, as feral as he did whenever Coach started talking about playoff tactics.  “I am going to put the old man to shame.”

Oh.  “Oh.”

Iyla nuzzled Shane’s cheek.  “Da.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Shane said.  His brain was working again, though maybe not for very long.  “That…sounds like a pretty good plan.  I think.”

“I know.”

“Cocky bastard,” Shane said, laughing when Ilya bit him.  “‘Cause you know so much.”

“I know how to make you agree to anything I say.”

“Yeah?” Shane asked, his brain already cheerfully turning itself back off.  “Think you can prove it?”

The laugh he wanted everyone to hear.  As many people as possible.  As often as possible.  But the way Ilya was looking at him right now - that was for Shane and Shane alone.  “Da.”

Chapter 6: Epilogue

“Just seems a little strange,” Kip said, snuggling a little further into Scott’s side.  “This is southern California – why would they include a fireplace?”

“Ambiance?” Scott offered.  “Some people get cold easy?”  He considered the ornate, useless rectangle on the wall, the arm not draped around Kip’s shoulder stretched out along the back of the couch.  “They can charge more for the room because it looks classy?”

“A lot of people do find fireplaces to be romantic,” Kip agreed.

“But not in California.”

“It’s more that I’d expect people around here to be into…long walks on the beach.”

“Unlike us New Yorkers,” Scott said, gently teasing, “who use fireplaces to catch someone’s attention.”

Kip twisted to look up at him.  “It’s not what caught my attention, but it didn’t hurt your chances.”

“It’s a fake fireplace.”

“You live in a skyscraper.”  Kip tucked himself back into place.  “Do you have any idea what the fire code violations would be on a building like that if everyone had a working fireplace?”

“No.”

“Me, neither.  But it would be insane.  The building would burn down in a year.”

“There have been skyscrapers in New York for longer than there have been fake fireplaces,” Scott said.  He paused, weighing his next words.  Wondering if he’d ruin the moment by guessing wrong.

But if three years of hiding and three more of dealing with the public eye had taught him anything, it was that it was better to guess wrong and talk it out than to guess at things like this on his own.

Clearing his throat as covertly as he could, Scott added, “But…if you wanted a working fireplace, there are places in New York that have them.”

Kip snorted.  “What, we should move to a shorter building with a landlord who doesn’t care?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Scott allowed.  “Though I think it’s more commonly called a…house?”

He was starting to think it didn’t matter how many years they spent together, he’d always get this nervous feeling when he had to ask a question he had no idea the answer to.  Kip hesitated, but he’d expected that, and when Kip sat up, he didn’t look…upset.  “Like…buy a house?  Together?”

“Pretty sure we’re doing most things together these days,” Scott said, quietly.  Hopefully but not quite sure.

“A house,” Kip repeated.  “With…a yard.  And…a driveway.”

“Probably a couple trees,” Scott added.

He felt the nerves melt away as Kip’s smile grew.  “We’d almost have to get a dog, then.  Or Carter might explode.”

“We can get a dog,” Scott said.  “If we want a dog.”

He wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted a dog of his own, when he thought about it.  He liked dogs, but that was different than wanting one of his own that needed to be walked, sun, rain, or snow.  They could get back to the question of animals, though.

Right now, he knew that whatever house they looked at needed a fireplace.  One they could put a couch in front of, so Kip could kiss him there, too.

---

“We’re sure we’re OK with this?” Hayden asked for the fourth time.  For a man who had been so relieved an hour ago, he was acting almost as skittish as the first time he’d met her mother.  “I mean, it’s a good choice.  A good…deal.  I’m not sure I would have gotten better -”

“Hayden,” Jackie said, straightening his suit jacket once again, “this is a good thing.”  She kissed him, lingering for a moment when he didn’t immediately respond.  “We’re happy about this.”

“What if the kids aren’t happy?” Hayden asked.  “What if the schools are too different?  What if you can’t find a job?  What if I don’t mesh with the team well enough?”

“School is school,” Jackie said.  Firmly.  Because she believed it, down to her bones.  “I am amazing at my job and will have no trouble adapting to the new one, which I damn near already have because there are already two companies fighting over the chance to hire me.  And you, my dear,” she kissed Hayden’s cheek this time, “will get along great with the Admirals.”

“It’s gonna be strange not wearing blue,” Hayden muttered.

“I know.”  Giving up on the suit jacket, Jackie grabbed Hayden’s hands instead.  He couldn’t tug on his clothes if he was holding on to her.  “But the Metros decided to be assholes.  Assholes who didn’t deserve Shane Hollander,” a flicker of the anger Hayden had been pretending he still didn’t feel toward his old team, “and they don’t deserve you.”

“Or I’m being selfish and uprooting my family to another country because of a mistake I made.”

“It’s New York,” Jackie deadpanned, “not Texas.  And if you do not forgive yourself I will kidnap Shane and make him play for the Admirals, too.”

Hayden frowned.  “His husband might kill you.”

“I don’t fear Ilya Rozanov.”

That earned her a smile.  “No…no, you don’t.”  Lifting their hands, Hayden pressed a kiss to her knuckles.  “You don’t fear anything.”

“Besides,” Jackie said, “you were more or less headhunted by the Captain of the Admirals.  If you have any trouble fitting in, I’m pretty sure Scott Hunter has to make things work out.”

Hayden’s smile turned far more amused.  “Hunted, huh?  He didn’t really think that one through, did he?”

“This is the man who kissed his boyfriend on international television instead of releasing a statement to the press,” Jackie reminded him.  “The man who busted ass for most of his career to win the Cup, then immediately upstaged it?”

“I’m going to be working with this lunatic,” Hayden reminded her.

Jackie kissed him, and this time Hayden kissed her right back.  “I’m kinda fond of this lunatic.”

“His team certainly isn’t going to care that my best friend is gay,” Hayden said.  “Or that he married Ilya Rozanov.”

“Or at least they’re only pissed because now Shane and Ilya are on the same team,” Jackie said.  “Which, to be fair, is the least fair thing the NHL has done in like a decade.”

“Really doesn’t seem fair that the rest of us should suffer for their good fortune.”

“Open with that,” Jackie said as the car service pulled up to take Hayden to his final meeting with his asshole ex-team.  “The Admirals are gonna love you, but just in case, remind them that they can now beat Ilya and Shane at the same time, and you think they’re good enough to do it.”

“When we do,” Hayden said, stepping away and looking excited for the first time in at least twenty minutes, “Rozanov might kill me.”

Jackie snorted, head held high.  “He wouldn’t dare.”

---

“I know they’re the same stars,” Kyle said, leaning back on his hands on the stone patio of their balcony, “but they still manage to look different over here.”

“’Over here’ being the other side of the world,” Eric noted.  He was sitting cross-legged on a towel he’d dragged outside.  Not that he couldn’t still sprawl on the ground like Kyle was doing, but there was something less appealing about sitting on solid stone slabs, even ones in a beautiful Greek town, now that he was north of forty.

God, was that ever going to settle in?

“You’re calling yourself old again,” Kyle said without looking down.  “Please stop.”

“I thought you liked that I’m old,” Eric said.  Teasing and almost meaning it.

Kyle dropped his head to one side, his gaze following a moment after as he pinned Eric with a glare.  “I like that you’re older.  That’s no excuse to insult my boyfriend.”

“Growing old is a privilege,” Eric repeated from some cheap hobby store plaque that had been designed by someone who was almost certainly not forty.

Looking distinctly unimpressed, Kyle rolled onto his hands and knees.  Utterly ignoring the stars.  “That it might be, my dear Bennett, but you haven’t earned that privilege yet.”

“Letting Kip force you to read Jane Austen is going to bite me in the ass for years to come,” Eric said as Kyle crawled over to him.

“Oh it might,” Kyle agreed as he settled into Eric's lap.  “Certainly until you’re old enough to actually be old.”

“And privileged enough to have you bear witness?” Eric asked as Kyle took his face in his hands.

“My privilege,” Kyle said, kissing Eric softly underneath the stars.  “All mine.”