Work Text:
New York is a hockey town, but mainly it is a tourist town, and Ilya knows exactly where to blend in. He knows where to go now, where no one will really know who he is. They’ll double-take, wonder if he is familiar or just hot, and he’ll move away from those who might realise it is the former.
It’s just a few hours shy of 2017, they had won against Buffalo at home, and Ilya had jumped straight into one of his cars and made the drive down, telling LeClaire that he would meet the team in Jersey the day after.
He needed the night. To let go of hockey, of his father, of Hollander, just for a few hours. One night, when neither of those things owned him.
The bar was tucked between a bakery and a souvenir shop, the rainbow flag above the door waving lazily in the snowy wind. Inside, it was dim, and crowded, and alive. Bodies pressed close together, heat and sweat and perfume mixing into something intoxicating. More rainbow flags hung crookedly behind the bar, their colours muted in the low light.
As soon as he slid onto the dancefloor, the anonymity wrapped around him like a shield. Stray hands found his waist, fingers tracing his spine, a brave slap on his butt. He just made sure his wallet and phone were still in his pocket and continued to the bar.
It had been a while since he had been here, just as anonymous then. Younger, stupider and unaware that he actually loved Shane. But it still felt the same.
He found a small space beside a shorter, handsome man. He had to be careful, it was a bar where straight people also visited, and he had made a pass at some of them before. It was also a place where the guys knew they might be hit on, and they had always been very nice about it. Ilya had been lucky they weren’t Hockey fans, not that queer people couldn't be.
The man was casually leaning against the bar, trying to get the bartender's attention, dark hair falling just slightly into his eyes. He wasn’t loud or particularly flashy, but something about the way he carried himself drew Ilya’s attention without trying. Confident, calm, aware. Ilya’s lips curved slightly. The dark eyes threw him a quick look before doing a double take, and Ilya froze a little, tried to pretend he didn’t notice him.
Ilya flagged the bartender, who immediately made his way over.
“Lager,” he pointed at the man beside him, “and whatever he wants.”
The stranger fumbled a little when the bartender turned towards him before asking for a lager and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. When they were left, fairly alone, he turned to Ilya and huffed.
“Thanks, I have tried to get his attention for like, five minutes.”
“No worry,” Ilya smirked down at him, “you are little, he might have not seen you.”
“Little- hey! I’m 6 ft!” The guy was laughing with him, “We all can’t be giants.”
Ilya laughed, leaning a little closer.
“I’m Ilya,” He noticed the bartender arrive with their order and nodded thanks. Threwing a few bills on the bar and hoped it covered everything.
“Kip,” the man said simply, smile a little shy. “Nice to meet you.”
Ilya licked his lips, leaning just a little closer. “Kip,” he repeated. “I like it. Easy to say, easy to remember. A cute name for a very good-looking man.”
Kip tilted his head, amusement flickering across his face, though he also leaned in a little. “Maybe,” he said, letting the word hang, testing the tone. “And you… You are not someone who blends into the background either.”
“Blending in is overrated,” Ilya said, voice low, winking. “Better to stand out, even just a little. It makes life… interesting.”
Kip’s lips quirked, a small laugh slipping through. “Interesting,” he repeated softly. “I think I can manage that.”
Ilya leaned back slightly, letting the pause stretch, letting the tension between them settle. The bar’s bass throbbed underfoot, the warmth of bodies around them grounding him, sharpening the thrill of curiosity. He took a slow drink from the bottle and noticed Kip’s gaze travel down to his lips.
“So,” he said finally, tilting his head, “what brings you here tonight, Kip?”
Kip hesitated, eyes flicking to the crowd, then back to Ilya.
“I’m…celebrating new years,” obviously dripping from the tone of his voice.
Ilya let out a bark of laughter, oh how he liked sassy boys.
“Alone?”
“No, with a friend,” Kip pointed at a table with a beautiful woman who had three men trying to get her attention.
“Anyone more than a friend?” Ilya turned back and let a hand play with Kip’s cuff on his shirt.
“No, but it does look like I need to save her.” Kip picked up the drinks, “I’ve left her alone far to long, I-uh,”
He paused, looked down at the drinks in his hands, before looking up at Ilya, swaying a little closer.
“Thank you for these.”
“It’s nothing.” Ilya let his eyes travel down the man in front of him, “enjoy the night, Kip.”
✦
Kip returned to the table, rudely showing past the guys and reclaimed his chair. It was one of the few seats in the house, and he was glad Elena had put her bag there when he was away.
“Girl!” He ignored the boys beside them and leaned over the table.
“What?” She grabbed the wine and took a quick sip.
“Did you see him?” She started to try to look around the guys who seemed to give up and left them alone.
“Who?”
“By the bar, curly hair, tall, muscular?”
“Damn, Kip!”
“He bought us drinks.”
“Why did you leave?” She turned to look again, and the man, Ilya, a familiar name, but he couldn’t place it, smirked and gave them a small wave.
Kip felt his cheeks heat up and looked away, but Elena smirked and waved back.
“I don’t know.” He groaned and hid his face in his palms, “he’s so yummy!”
“He’s also coming over,” he sat straight up at her revelation. “You have to tell me all about it.”
✦
Ilya watched as Kip looked around the room, wide-eyed and a little impressed. He stopped by the floor-to-ceiling windows looking over the river towards New Jersey, and Ilya sneaked up behind him and circled his arms around the shorter man.
“Impressive.” He let out a puff of air as a laugh against Kip’s neck, where he had been placing light kisses.
“Very expensive.” Ilya turned him around and pressed him against the glass. “You like?”
“Ehh, a little overcompensating.” He kissed the smirk away, bit down on the lower lip and soothed it with his tongue after.
Kip grabbed his curls and pressed closer, not backing down. Ilya’s hands ran down his hips, over his butt and hoisted him up, gripping the underside of his thighs.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Kip gasped as Ilya bit down where his shoulder met his throat, “how’re you so strong?”
“Work.”
Ilya turned and carried him to the bed, unceremoniously dropping him. Kip gave up a squawk and a snort of laughter just after. Ilya didn’t let him settle, growling over him as he made quick work on the cheap shirt. He sat up on his knees to rip off his pants he stopped.
“Why are you so strong?”
“I wish I could say work, but I just like keeping in shape”, Kip bushed, flushed against the white of the beddings, and Ilya cupped his face.
“You are very good-looking.” He stressed, “Don’t be shy, be… sassy, da?”
“Sassy?” Kip giggles, “You like your partners like that?”
“I like you.”
He dove down again, kissing down the muscular torso, and opening his fly. As he worked Kip to orgasm with his mouth, the fireworks exploded outside, painting the room in pride colours, welcoming the new year.
✦
Kip woke up to the sun shining through the big windows. It bathed the room in warm lights and made the man, Ilya, glow. He watched him for a bit, a feeling of recognition still clung to him from last night, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.
He watched the beautiful blue eyes blink open, realisation flicker as the other man woke up, and he smiled back.
“Breakfast?” Ilya’s voice was rough from sleep, but probably also from the night's activities.
Kip hadn’t been this satisfied in ages. They hadn’t stopped until Ilya had him pinned down, and though Kip was vers, a good pounding always left him with a deep content for days. Ilya had been a generous lover, always careful, playing Kip like a fiddle, but he felt there was something distant about it. Like he was a distraction.
“If you’re ordering, please.” He watched Ilya roll over and order everything on the menu before he came back to Kip and pressed him down on the bed, kissing him slow and deep with a skill Kip slightly envied.
“So,” Kip started after another round before breakfast, they were seated, only in boxers, by the table. “What do you do for work to be able to afford the suit over New Year's?”
“I’m mob boss.” Ilya didn’t stop eating, and Kip doubted him for a second before he looked up over some eggs and avocados, mirth dancing in his eyes.
“Fucker,” He muttered, focusing on his own toast.
“Hockey.”
The admission came after, when they both had sunk low in their seats, coffee cups in hand, watching the snow dancing outside. Kip jolted a little because they had found a comfortable silence for a bit, and Ilya’s voice was thin, like he admitted something he shouldn't.
“Shit.” It hit him now, why the name and the man looked so familiar, “You’re fucking Ilya Rosanov!”
“Da.” Ilya sounded bored.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, I won’t tell. Promise!” Kip sat up, “You’re obviously not out, but how have you pulled men before and not been outed?”
“I-uh”, Ilya sat up as well, his hand gripping the cup with both hands. “I am bisexual, like women too. And I had a man, but he don’t want me anymore.”
“Hey, shit, I’m sorry.” Kip’s hand found his shoulder, and he felt more than saw Ilya shrug. Like it didn’t matter, but he could tell it meant more than the hockey player wanted to admit. “Let’s give you my number, and we’ll be friends.”
“Friends?” Ilya’s eyes were sad, but his smile was teasing. “With… things?”
“With things,” Kip winked and counted the laugh as a win.
✦
Kip:
good game
Ilya:
you watch?
Kip:
Yeah
Ilya:
Stalker
Kip:
Ha-ha
After nye i might consider myself a fan
Ilya:
Lucky me
Kip:
i know
And you were… hot on the ice.
Ilya:
You are trouble.
Tell me more
✦
Kip:
opening smoothie shop
**pray for me
Ilya:
smoothie shop open at this hour?
Kip:
unfortunately yes
Ilya:
tragic
✦
Kip:
[picture: blender half-full of something violently green]
this is supposed to be mango
Ilya:
liar fruit
Kip:
Exactly
✦
Ilya:
[picture: mirror selfie of Ilya on a bike, muscles on display]
gym now
very inspiring
Kip:
Damn girl…
Also jealous
i’m covered in strawberries
Ilya:
glamorous life
✦
Kip:
guy ordered a “green thing but not too green”
Ilya:
criminal
Kip:
i may be arrested today
Ilya:
i will visit you
bring oranges
Kip:
please don’t
Kip:
survived
blender tried to kill me
Ilya:
dangerous profession
Kip:
truly
✦
Kip:
someone just asked if we have “diet fruit”
Ilya:
what does that mean
Kip:
i asked
they didn’t know either
Ilya:
america is wild place
Kip:
truly lawless
✦
Ilya:
I cant stop
thinking about him
Kip:
yeah
that happens when you like someone
Ilya:
it is stupid
because he does not belong to me
Kip:
I’m sorry
Ilya:
i wish it would stop
Kip:
i know
but it won’t just because you tell it to
✦
Kip:
i met scott hunter today
Ilya:
who is he?
Kip:
he’s a player
Ilya you know him
Ilya:
ah yes
the famous scott hunter
Kip:
you definitely know him
Ilya:
i do not
Kip:
liars gonna lie
Ilya:
i am russian.
i lie for sport
Kip:
that’s fair
Ilya:
he is boring
Kip:
you say that like you’ve met him
i thought you didnt know him
Ilya:
i have not i do not
Kip:
you’re lying again
Ilya:
maybe
Kip:
you’re cute
Ilya:
i am not
Kip:
He is HOT
Ilya:
He is old
Kip:
Didn’t hear you deny he is hot
Ilya:
Shut up
✦
Ilya:
Playing Islanders tomorrow
Want to meet up?
Kip:
Yes, when are you done playing?
Ilya:
Afternoon game.
I’ll send hotel room
Kip:
You know how to charm a man
Ilya:
Worked :)
Kip:
Weirdly (:
✦
Ilya:
I’m sorry
Kip:
why?
Ilya:
because i use you
to forget him
Kip:
hey
you’re not using me
we both know what this is
Ilya:
friends
with… things
Kip:
yeah
friends with things
and that’s okay
Ilya:
you are not angry?
Kip:
no
Ilya, I like you
I just don’t want to be something more
Ilya:
i understand
i think
Thank you
✦
Ilya:
He came back to me
Kip:
Ilya, that’s amazing.
Are you together?
Ilya:
We can’t be.
But one day I want to.
I love him, he don’t know
✦
Kip:
I’ve met someone
Gone on two dates
Ilya:
I’m happy
What’s his name
Kip:
Cant tell you
But i like him
Ilya:
Is he hot?
Kip:
Sooo hot
Ilya:
Work?
Kip:
Cant tell you
Ilya:
Please don't say Hunter
Ilya answered on the first ring. He was sitting on the bike in his apartment gym, cooling down after a morning practice.
“How did you know?” The tension in Kip’s voice gave him a mental image of him walking back and forth, hair messy by his hands.
“I joke.” He laughs, hoping Kip calms down. He had kinda suspected about Hunter for a while. “Is it Hunter?”
“Fuck Ilya, you can’t tell. I freaked cause you just guessed, and he isn't out”
“No one is out”
“I know I-” He heard the heavy sigh on the other end, and how Kip sat down.
“Kip, relax.” Ilya was slightly happy, Kip was a good guy, and though he could do better than Hunter, he could do younger than Hunter, he still believed they could be good together. “I won't say anything. Tell him about me.”
“What?”
“So he knows he’s not alone.” He shrugged, even though Kip couldn’t see him. Then smirked. “As long as he knows how you know me.”
“Ilya. Seriously.” Kip’s voice was small, relieved and a little wet. Ilya couldn’t handle that.
“Friends no things, da?” He needed Kip to know it was okay, they were okay.
“Definitely.” a light laugh, just a puff of air through the speaker, “Thank you.”
✦
Scott watch alot of hockey, and Kip kinda liked that nerdy part of him. How he sometimes had a pad out, writing down things he noticed on the other teams, ready to bring it with him to practice later.
They watched a lot of games together, sometimes Kip got a text from Ilya, joking about something that went over his head a little, and he repeat them to Scott.
First time was nerve-racking, it was just before the playoffs, and they were watching two west-coat team play.
Ilya:
Whyatt has two wrong skates
He is so bad
Like bambi, da?
Thats why he misses open goal
He laughs a little at the message. Ilya’s dry sense of humour, mixed with his okay English, makes it more deadpan. Scott looks up,a small smile on his face.
“Sorry,” Kip giggles a little, saving time. How should he explain Ilya? “I have a friend, he plays a little hockey, he said Whyatt has two left skates, that's why he misses so much.”
“That is actually funny, never liked Whyatt.” Scott scoffs and turns back to the game.
“He neither”, Kip smirks, maybe he can get Scott to like Ilya before knowing who he is.
✦
It was uncommon, though, for Scott to watch his own game tapes at home, but Kip understood that the playoffs meant more intensity. He sat beside him on the couch, a history book in his lap and texting Ilya. They would meet for a quick coffee when Ilya was in town playing Scott, and it was the first time they met without hooking up.
Ilya:
I still not decided.
What are you doing?
Kip:
I think you should go.
Maybe even tell him you love him?
I’m trying to read
Scott is watching the game against you
Trying to analyse
Ilya:
Will see.
Does he know the rookie is leaning on his strong foot when shooting
he leans away from the puck?
Kip looks up across the sofa. Should he tell Scott about Ilya now? He was deep in the playoffs, and he doesn’t want to scare him off, definitely not with the man in Boston that he curses like the devil, might bring it up later.
“Hey, babe?”
Scott gives a noncommittal hum as an answer, writing something down, the play paused on the TV. Kip decides to save the name for now.
“My friend who plays hockey, he watched your game.” He waits for Scott to look up, eyes a little unfocused, “Said something about Adams favouring his dominant leg when he shoots, so he leans away from the puck too much?”
Scott looks at him for a bit before he picks up the controller and fast forward the tabe before he finds what he’s looking for. Kip dont see it, but Scott sits up a little straighter, leaning forward.
“Huh, he’s right, I haven’t thought of that.” He pauses again and writes something on the pad, not really paying attention to Kip again. “Your friend plays in one of the higher leagues?”
“Yeah, think so,” Kip bites his lips and locks back down at the phone. He sends Ilya a blue and red heart, he gets a black and a yellow back.
✦
Kip curled up against Scott on the sofa, the last game against Detroit playing on the tv. There was one game left of this season, and Kip was nervous for Scott. He wanted this for him, wanted the frown to disappear, this seriousness that was like a cover over them. He felt his phone vibrating.
“Uh, Scott,“ He sits up, phone angled away a little from Scott. Not wanting to disturb his peace, “My friend-”
“The hockey player?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“He’s the only one you say, my friend, instead of the name.” Scott looked away from the TV with a shrug before looking back, like it wasn’t a big deal that he remembered this about Kip, like he paid attention. “But, go on”
“Well. He mentioned that Leberg is hiding a bruised rib. Asked me to make sure you know.”
Just then, Leberg broke free with the puck, he skated over the ice, and the whole team shifted for an offence.
“Shit, he does, fuck, I should call him. Thank you,” He stands up, already with his phone out, and the game paused.
“Just the messenger”
“Thank your friend.” He shouts behind him as he disappears into the bedroom.
“Will do.”
✦
They had won. Scott had kissed Kip on centre ice. He had come home to the apartment, slightly high on adrenalin and Ilya had called him. They had switched to video call, and for the first 5 minutes, they had just stared at each other, ignoring their shiny wet cheeks and grin splitting their face. Then Ilya had noticed the fancy apartment in the background and asked for a tour of the boring old man’s apartment. Ilya had also shared that he would be going to his mystery man's cottage over the summer.
Now Kip lay draped over Scott in the bed. He had come home late, they had had their own celebration, and promptly fallen asleep. The sun was bathing the room in light a week later, and they had only made it up for the occasional toilet break and to get things to eat and drink in bed.
It was their first day off together, and neither wanted to brave the world outside. Their conversations had flown between the coming out, Kip’s upcoming school-year, his new work and Scott’s wishes for next season. It had been a lazy, perfect day.
“What team does your friend play in?” They had been quiet for a bit, just breathing eachother in.
“Boston,” Kip popped himself up on his forearms, desperate to watch Scott’s face for this conversation.
“Oh, I thought he was in the AHL.” He looked a little taken aback, one of his hands suspended in the air for a second before he let his fingers run over Kip’s cheek and mischievous smile. “Boston, then he’s good. Did you go to school together?”
“No, we recently became friends,” He nodded, kissing his finger. “Met him on New Year's at a party.”
“Oh, I probably know him.” Scott's eyes were a little distance, solely focused on Kip’s tongue that was licking the pads on his fingers, his lips that were dangerously close to swallowing one or two of them down.
“Maybe?” The puffs of air shilled Scott’s fingertips, and his whole body shuddered, “His name is Ilya.”
“Ilya.” He repeated back in a whisper, far too focused on Kip’s hand that was running down between his pecks, feather light, lightly dancing over his abs.
“Yeah, Rosanov.” Kip didn’t know if it was the smirk on his face or that Scott actually registrated what he was saying, but the man under him froze and grabbed his hand that was travelling south on his body.
“You’re casually friends with Ilya Rosanov?” He had pulled back a little to really see Kip clearly, like he didn’t believe what was being said.
“Yeah, we text.”
Kip’s laugh rang loud in the bedroom. He had to wait a while for another round before Scott had processed and compartmentalised the new information. It hadn’t helped that Ilya had videocalled, and when he found out about Scott’s crisis, he prompted Kip to explain how they had met.
Scott, jealous and possessive, had worshipped Kip afterwards, and it had been the best sex they’d had. Kip waited to tell him that Ilya was happy with someone else, holding the truth back until they both were fully satisfied with Scott staking his claim. Kip sent Ilya a picture of his hickeys as thanks.