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Ilya wasn’t sure what kind of alternate universe he’d landed himself in, where he was on a double-date with Scott Hunter and his husband, but he supposed there were far worse fates. In all fairness, the double-dateness of the evening had been a total accident. They’d started with a larger group for dinner, but everyone else had begged off when Ilya had suggested keeping the evening going at a local neighborhood bar. Scott and Kip were the only ones who’d wanted to join, so here the four of them were, sitting in a dimly lit booth and having an actually good time together.
Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but Ilya really liked and respected Scott - for an innumerable number of reasons. He also really liked Kip. He was fun and charming and could talk to just about anyone - probably helped by his time as a bartender. He was even good at getting Shane, of all people, in a chatty mood. And, sure, most days Shane could talk Ilya’s ear off, but it was something that was typically reserved for the people he was closest to.
Scott and Kip were telling Shane about some upcoming plans for the Kingfisher, and at the mention of Kyle’s name, Ilya finally joined the conversation.
“Where is Kyle this week?” He asked. “Bennett did not bring him. Did he get bored with his old ass and leave him already?”
Scott rolled his eyes. Kip, because he had a good sense of humor, laughed.
“No, they’re still going strong. He’s just busy managing the bar,” Kip said. “He might join him next week in Ottawa for a few days if he can make it work.”
“I keep forgetting that you two have met before this week,” Shane said, gesturing between Ilya and Kip.
“Yeah! Quite a few times. Ilya comes to the Kingfisher practically every time he’s in New York,” Kip said.
“You’ve hung out with just about everyone at the Kingfisher, huh?” Shane directed at Ilya.
“Excuse him, is a sore subject,” Ilya sighed dramatically.
“Oh shut up, you asshole,” Shane huffed playfully.
“Aww, Hollander. Don’t be jealous. When we play our first game together in New York, I will take you there after.”
“You guys are always more than welcome. Bring the whole team if you want,” Scott said.
“We do have the gayest team in the NHL,” Ilya said. “Even gayer now that Hollander has signed with us.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Shane muttered.
Kip just chucked good-naturedly. “I’m gonna get another round. Anyone else want anything? Scott?”
“I’ll have another, please,” Scott said, passing his empty beer bottle to Kip. “Thank you.”
“I’ll join you at the bar in a minute. I want to finish this first,” Shane said, motioning to his near-empty glass.
Kip nodded, giving Scott a quick peck before taking the empty beer and his own empty glass with him and heading toward the bar.
As Shane took the few final sips of his hard kombucha, Ilya couldn’t help but curl his lip a bit in disgust. Shane had been trying - and failing - to get Ilya to give it a taste, to no avail. Ilya didn’t care that it was low sugar and gluten-free. It smelled like a horrible mix of vinegar and a locker room. He’d happily stick to his beer.
“Can’t believe you are drinking again and you want to drink that shit,” Ilya said.
“I like it,” Shane defended.
“You have bad taste.”
“Clearly,” Shane quipped, motioning to Ilya exaggeratedly.
Ilya fake gasped, clutching his heart, making Shane laugh.
“You want another beer?” He asked Ilya.
“Just water is fine,” Ilya said. “One of us has to drive home, and you are a lightweight now, so.”
Shane rolled his eyes but still leaned in to peck Ilya on the cheek before sliding out of the booth, taking Ilya’s empty glass with him. “Aye, aye, captain.”
He would further dissect the way Shane calling him “captain” made him hot under the collar later. For now, he watched Shane join Kip at the bar, heart swelling at Shane’s easy PDA. It was something that had been impossible for them just months ago. When he looked away from the bar, it was to Scott studying him.
“You know, I was just as shocked as everyone else when you guys confirmed your relationship,” Scott admitted. “But seeing the two of you together this week, I get it.”
Under penalty of death, Ilya would never admit that Scott’s approval of him and Shane meant something to him. But it did. Not that it was any of Scott’s business.
“You are coming around to it much faster than other people have. Hayden has known for years and still seems confused.”
Scott laughed, shaking his head. “Well, maybe if you stopped antagonizing him so much.”
“Oh, I am much nicer to him now than I used to be,” Ilya said. “We both try our best for Shane but, you know. Old habits.”
“When did you guys tell him?” Scott asked.
“He figured it out himself, mostly by accident, pretty soon after I started playing for Ottawa,” Ilya said.
“And he still doesn’t like you?”
“Sometimes I think Hayden is just jealous he did not get to Shane first,” Ilya said, only half-joking.
He watched as Scott put the pieces together in his head.
“Exactly how long have you two…?” He asked tentatively.
“Since the summer before our rookie season,” Ilya said.
“Holy shit. You two have been together for over a decade?”
“Not together,” Ilya clarified. “It was not official until summer of 2017. But I loved him long before that.”
“Oh,” was all Scott said, the significance of the year clearly clicking in his head.
“I never got a chance to thank you,” Ilya said, before he could chicken out. “For what you did on the ice when you won the cup that year.”
“Listen, I appreciate the sentiment, but I did that for Kip and me,” Scott said.
“Even so. When it happened, Shane and I were at a…turning point,” He replied, a little unsure of the best English word to use. “I almost let him go because I was scared. And because I did not see a future where this was a possibility.“
He held up his left hand to show off the ring on his finger. It was all so new, Ilya’s breath still hitched sometimes when he caught sight of it.
“What you did made me want to be brave. Made me want to try,” Ilya said. “And doing that gave me the best thing in my life.
“You changed my life. Shane’s life. Troy’s life. Many others, too,” Ilya said. “Even if it was for you, it changed so much else for the better. Probably changed the sport as a whole for the better. So, thank you.”
Scott looked floored. Ilya didn’t blame him, most people did when Ilya revealed the softer side of himself, typically without preamble. He’d shown bits and pieces of this part of himself to Scott over the years, but never to this degree.
His shock wore off quickly, expression slowly morphing into a conspiratorial smile.
“You really are a big softie underneath it all, huh, Rozanov?” He asked.
Ilya shrugged, slipping back into his veneer of nonchalance. “ No one will believe you if you tell them so.”
“Mmm, I don’t know,” Scott said. “I think people are starting to figure you out.”
“Then I will have to work harder to keep my status as biggest asshole in the league,” Ilya said. “Maybe you should punch me on the ice again. That was fun.”
“I don’t think we have to go that far,” Scott chuckled. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
“What secret?” Shane asked as he approached the table with Kip.
“I will tell you later,” Ilya replied, winking.
Shane narrowed his eyes, but dropped it, sliding into the booth, close enough that their thighs touched, and engaging back in conversation with Scott and Kip. Ilya watched as his face relaxed, laughing at something Kip said. He looked incredible tonight. And, truthfully, he always looked incredible in Ilya’s eyes. But tonight, his shoulders were loose, he was laughing more and he seemed so comfortable in his own skin. Ilya knew his heart eyes were probably on full display as he zoned out of the conversation in order to stare at Shane’s profile, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t have to hide them anymore. He didn’t have to hide anything anymore.
“What?” Shane asked quietly, a smile in his voice as he caught Ilya staring.
“Nothing,” Ilya replied. “Just very happy today.”
Shane interlocked their hands on top of the table. Like the cheek kiss earlier, it still sent a thrill through Ilya every time they could do something small and affectionate like this in public, without the accompanying fear. Ilya pulled their joined hands up to his lips so he could kiss Shane’s knuckles before focusing back in on the conversation at the table.
They didn’t stay out too much longer, just until everyone had finished that last round of drinks. Shane was already an old man at heart, and it was definitely past his weekday bedtime, but they also had another early morning of camp the next day.
“So another week of camps in Ottawa and then you guys head right to your honeymoon in Spain, right?” Kip asked as they said their farewells outside the bar.
“We do,” Shane said. “It’ll be nice to get away for a bit, just the two of us. And thanks again for all the recs, Scott. They were super helpful with planning.”
“Shane is a little Type A, if you could not tell,” Ilya said.
“An international trip is not something you can just fly by the seat of your pants on, Ilya,” Shane defended.
“He’s right, you know,” Scott chipped in.
“Oh, now everyone is ganging up on me?”
Scott held up his hands in defense. “Just being honest. Anyway, see you both bright and early.”
“This was fun,” Kip said. “If I don’t see you guys again before I leave for New York at the end of the week, have fun in Spain!”
Shane and Ilya chorused their thanks, waving goodbye to the other couple as they headed in opposite directions toward their respective cars.
“Give me the keys,” Ilya said, holding his hand out.
“Oh my god, I had like three drinks total over the course of the night,” Shane complained, but dug the keys out of his pocket and handed them over to Ilya anyway.
“Yes. Three drinks and you are tipsy, Hollander.”
“Maybe a little,” Shane acquiesced.
Ilya took Shane’s hand in his as they ambled down the street together, interlocking their fingers and swinging their arms back and forth a bit as they walked. He couldn’t tell if the flush on his husband’s cheeks was from the alcohol or the simple gesture, but either way, it was a welcome sight.
A little later, once they’d settled in the car and were on the road to Shane’s, he brought up the earlier conversation.
“So,” Shane started. “What's this secret you were telling Scott Hunter?”
“Oh nothing serious. Just that we were sucking each other's dicks on the other side of the wall from his room at the 2011 All-Star Game,” Ilya said in a completely serious tone.
He was glad they were at a red light so that he could look over at Shane as his face went completely white, fully believing Ilya for a moment. Ilya couldn’t help it, he laughed, which quickly brought the color back to Shane’s face. His blush was apparent, even in the dim car.
“Such an asshole,” Shane said, shaking his head in disbelief. But he was smiling.
“Am kidding, of course,” Ilya soothed.
“Do I know this secret?” Shane asked, the smallest touch of insecurity in his voice.
Ilya couldn’t blame him. He’d spent the last year keeping some very important secrets from Shane, and even when Shane had given him opportunities to share his struggles, he’d kept them to himself. The distance and time apart had made it easier to avoid those hard conversations, and Ilya had always done a very good job at hiding his inner turmoil.
Admitting his mental health struggles to Shane had not been easy. He’d been half-terrified that doing so would drive Shane away. Galina liked to remind him that it would be an ongoing process, potentially for the rest of his life, and she’d been right. Even now, with everything he’d ever wanted in the palm of his hands, there were still days when his depression threatened to swallow him whole. They were fewer, and not as bad as before he started going to therapy and confiding in Shane, but the threat nearly always loomed.
“My secret is one you have known for a long time. That I am very soft inside and that I love you very much,” Ilya said, taking Shane’s hand.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Shane murmured back to him in Russian, giving Ilya’s hand a quick squeeze. It always made his heart soar when Shane said “I love you” in his native tongue. His pronunciation of those three words was practically perfect by now, given how often he said them.
“I was just…thanking Scott. For what he did back in 2017,” Ilya continued. “I know we are here because of the hard work and sacrifices we made to build this life together, but I know that kiss helped things move forward.”
“Sometimes I think about where we would be if he hadn’t given us the courage to give this a shot,” Shane murmured, brushing his thumb against the back of Ilya’s hand. “I try not to dwell, though. We’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
“Yes,” Ilya agreed, squeezing Shane’s hand tightly. “We are here. And we are not alone. We have our gay hockey Avengers, also thanks to Scott.”
Shane laughed, then grew serious.
“We might end up needing them. I have a feeling we’re not totally out of the woods,” he sighed. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Crowell.”
“Probably. But we will worry about that as it comes,” Ilya soothed. “For now, all I want to think of is getting you home and getting you naked. And maybe daydream about how cute your freckles will be after a week in the Spanish sun.”