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The car was quiet as it slowly snaked through the unending traffic jams.
In the back seat, Ilya Rozanov sat, silently contemplating.
He had been part of the Ottawa Centaurs for the last season and they had just come off a bruising defeat against New York that previous night.
Objectively, Ilya knew why it had happened.
New York, although unable to hold their Stanley Cup win for more than a year, was still a phenomenal team. Ottawa, the lowest ranked team in the League, was a very outside chance. It was just frustrating.
Ilya hadn’t expected the team to turn around the minute he arrived, but he had hoped for better than the absolute shit show of last night. Even the Admirals had looked concerned by the end. Scott Hunter had actually apologised. And it didn’t make sense to Ilya. The foundations of the team were good.
They had arguably the best goalie in the league with Wyatt Hayes, now that Eric Bennet was retired. They had a fantastic coach who was young and willing to try new things. They had one of the best rookies, with Luca Haas on their starting line. And they had him, Ilya Rozanov. The Greatest Hockey Player in the world (Take that, Shane!)
Their comradery was great, the team more like a family than any other Ilya had experienced. There were no egos (Except Ilya’s and he liked that no one let him get away with it off the ice)
Every piece of this puzzle should create a beautiful picture and yet, put together it made an absolute mess.
The team breakfast that morning had been a somber affair. But then Coach Wiebe had dropped the bombshell on them.
They had all seen the incident with Toronto happening over the last few weeks. The accusations against their star player, Dallas Kent.
The guy was a complete Asshole. Not an asshole like Ilya was an asshole, who could be a menace on the ice but knew when to turn it off. No, Kent was the type of guy to assume he was a God, when by rights he should have been paraded off the ice in handcuffs. And it looked like the jackass was right to believe he was untouchable.
Ilya fully believed the stories coming out. All those poor women and their horrendous run-ins with Kent. He didn’t doubt it for a second. And he hated all the rape apologists coming out of the woodworks. The disgusting, sexist bullshit the Toronto fans were spewing to protect their hero. And the way Commissioner Crowell was handling it.
He had hoped Ottawa would be left alone far from the fallout. But that didn’t seem to be the case, as Wiebe, looking somewhat defeated, even as he tried to put on a cheerful front, had approached his team at breakfast.
The owners had decided to agree to a mid season trade. Ottawa had a new player, Troy fucking Barrett. Kent’s lackey and number two.
Ilya had always hated the guy, almost as much as he hated Kent.
Every time he had seen Kent target someone, Barrett was always at his side, cheering his friend on. Protecting Kent from the hits the jackass rightfully deserved, making him almost untouchable.
Almost.
Ilya still relished that one time during their last game in Toronto, when he had caught Kent throwing homophobic slurs at Luca Haas during a scuffle for the puck.
He had done it in a low enough voice that the refs could ignore the blatant rule breaking and Luca, the poor kid, had struggled to understand the rapid fire English threats, even if he knew the gist. But Ilya had been speaking English longer than the rookie and knew exactly what the man was saying.
He had delighted in slamming his body into the smaller Kent, smashing him so hard against the boards that his jaw had clipped the glass, his helmet offering no protection and then, as the man tried to right himself, shoving his knee to the back of the man's leg, causing him to fall hard on the ice.
Kent, the coward, had cried foul and Ilya had copped a penalty for it. But it had been worth it, for the split second look of fear from the man as he realised that Ilya was bigger than him and not going to let him continue this crap without serious consequences. That Ilya could actually harm him, and no one could stop the Russian.
Ilya had been too angry at Kent at the time to notice that Barrett hadn’t jumped into the resulting fight like he normally did; to protect Kent’s honour but he hadn’t thought much of it.
Now, after what Barrett had done, he started to wonder if the man was finally getting sick of Kent’s shit.
The video was terrible. Of Barrett getting into Kent’s face on the ice, accusing him of all the women had said and more. Calling him exactly what everyone else thought he was but were too scared to say.
It hadn’t saved Barrett from the repercussions but at least someone had said something.
Still, the idea that they would now have to take Barrett on was not a welcome one. The idea that they were so bad, had so little respect as a team that they now had to carry this guy. That being sent to them was some sort of punishment for him, was annoying.
Even Wyatt Hayes had been quiet when everyone had turned at breakfast to glance questioningly at him.
Hayes had been a part of Toronto before moving to Ottawa and had played with Barrett. And Ilya knew it was bad when even Hayesie, arguably the nicest guy in the League, couldn’t muster up more than a weak ‘He’s ok’ regarding the man.
After Wiebe told them that Barrett would be joining them the next day when they returned to Ottawa for their next training session and left to allow them to process, Ilya had glanced over at Luca.
The kid was their youngest player. Full of talent but still building up his confidence and learning the dynamics of the team. Ilya had no doubts that one day, Luca would be an All Star, once he found his rhythm. And he was sure that was why some of the asshole players out there already targeted the kid.
That and the fact that he was from Switzerland and still struggled sometimes with English, had made it harder for him than most. And Ilya was fairly sure the kid was gay.
Luca hadn’t said anything but the way he watched Ilya was enough for the older player to be convinced the guy had a crush. Particularly when they were in the gym, Luca always seemed to watch Ilya.
Ilya honestly didn’t mind. He was hot after all. He wouldn’t touch the kid, even if he wasn’t in a monogamous relationship, albeit a secret one, with Shane Hollander. But it was a nice ego boost for Ilya, and he hoped one day Luca would be comfortable in his skin and could find someone, be it man or woman, who loved him.
Still, Luca had been a target of Kent and having his lackey on the team and close to the kid in his very first season was definitely making Luca anxious. Ilya wanted the kid to shine, and he didn’t need Troy fucking Barrett fucking that up for him.
So after breakfast, he had made a decision.
The teams flight back to Ottawa wasn’t until the afternoon and Wiebe’s had allowed them a morning in New York to do whatever they wanted.
Ilya had already had a plan to head out and see a friend. But with Luca looking lost and upset, well….maybe it was time to show the kid that his captain had his back. Ilya had been neglecting his duties on that front for too long, it seemed.
So as soon as Luca had risen from the team's table to go back to his room, Ilya had risen and followed him to the elevator.
“Hey. Haas!” He called as the kid stepped into the elevator. Ilya just managed to slip inside with him before the door had closed.
“This your first free day in New York, yes?” He asked once the door was closed.
Luca had glanced at him, clearly unsure what to say.
Finally, the kid ducked his head, letting his blonde hair fall over his face. The light flashed on the glass of his spectacles.
“Ah, yes.” He said in his thick German accent.
“Bit different from home.” Ilya commented. It was true, based on what Luca had told him of Switzerland. “Do you plan to explore before we leave?”
Luca finally glanced up at Ilya. He shrugged but Ilya could see the truth in that gesture. New York was a big, intimidating city and Ilya had no doubts, unless dragged out of his room by one of their team mates, Luca’s plan was to hide away until the bus came to take them to the airport.
Well, Ilya was not going to let that happen. He had plans for the day but that didn’t mean Luca couldn’t tag along.
“Grab your wallet and coat. I am going to see a friend in the city and you are coming with.” Ilya decided. Luca opened his mouth, probably to argue but Ilya stopped him.
“No argument. Will be good for you.” Ilya said as the elevator arrived at his floor. “Meet me in lobby in ten minutes.”
Turning, Ilya went to his room to grab his own jacket before heading back downstairs to meet the car he had ordered.
He was relieved to see Luca there when he arrived. The kid looked nervous but the set of his jaw suggested he was pushing through the discomfort. Ilya internally signed. He didn’t want the kid to be uncomfortable. He really didn’t. The whole point of this exercise was to show the kid that what was happening with Toronto was not how it should be.
That sports should not be a place for hatred.
But he had no idea how to express that to Luca. So instead, he had stayed with the kid until the car he had called arrived. Then, they slipped inside and allowed it to take them to the address Ilya gave the driver. A place in Manhattan.
Once they arrived, Ilya thanked the driver and guided Luca out. They had arrived at a small stadium. Not anywhere near the scale of the stadiums they played in. Even the rink back in Ottawa was larger. But that didn’t matter to Ilya.
Walking around the edge to the stands, Ilya noted a small crowd sitting or standing around before the grass field. Not a sell out. But why would it be? This wasn’t a professional level game. This was a group of people playing for the fun of it.
Making sure Luca was still following, the Russian made his way to a few seats off the side, where they were less obtrusive. He doubted anyone would bother them but still, he was sure a few people would be aware that some hockey players could attend these games, even if they weren’t the ones that usually did. He glanced across the field at a large board which already showed a score.
They had already missed the first half of play but that didn’t matter. He was here to see a friend. Watching a game was just a bonus.
Sitting down on the hard plastic seat, Ilya finally glanced at Luca as the boy hesitantly sat next to him.
“What is this?” The boy finally asked, nodding to the field.
“Have you never seen rugby?” Ilya asked. Luca shook his head and Ilya guessed rugby was not a common sport back in Switzerland.
“Is good sport. Like hockey, fast and tactical but no ice and bigger balls.” He explained.
Luca still looked confused but his cheeks flamed red at the comment.
“I thought we were seeing your friend.” The boy finally stated.
“Yes. But he’s playing now. We will see him after.” Ilya replied.
Around them, a few people started to cheer. Ilay glanced away and spied a few of the players running onto the field.
Their uniforms were very different from the uniforms Ilya and Luca wore during their games.
For one, the players weren’t weighed down by thick padding or trying to balance on skates. For another, they were all wearing shorts and short sleeved, tightly fitted jerseys. There were no sticks, gloves or helmets.
Besides Ilya, Luca shifted a little in his seat and Ilya was unsurprised. Some of the players were hot and the uniforms left little to the imagination. Not that Ilya was checking them out. No, he was looking for a specific player amongst the crowd.
Then he saw him, dressing in the red jersey of his team.
On the field, Kip was running around, keeping pace with another player as they moved towards the center. The two were passing a ball between them, careful to twist their wrists as they released the ball, causing it to spin in the air before catching it again.
Kip and his team mate were talking as they threw the ball, laughing and smiling. They looked relaxed, like they were enjoying their game.
A whistle was blown and the atmosphere changed as the players moved into position, preparing for the kickoff.
Ilya only had a loose understanding of rugby, but he had tried to learn from Kip. He knew it was a fast-paced game, that the players were trying to score a ‘try’ by placing the ball on the ground behind the opposing team's line or a ‘goal’ by kicking the ball through the goal posts. He knew that the players would try to stop this by tackling whoever was holding the ball. And he knew that players could get injured.
In the time he had known Kip, the man had received several injuries from the game. Thankfully none of them were severe but since Kip could be a stubborn asshole, as stubborn as any hockey player, Ilya had resorted to telling Scott Hunter whenever he knew Kip was hiding an injury. Ilya knew it was a betrayal of their friendship but honestly, he didn’t give a fuck if it meant his friend was not hurting.
The whistle sounded again and the game resumed, the ball kicked into the air.
Ilya watched, trying to keep up with the game play but it was difficult sometimes. Luca beside him, seemed completely lost, gasping in shock the first time a player was tackled into the ground.
At one point, a fight broke out, a few of the players grabbing each other by the jersey and getting in each other's faces. Ilya was glad that Kip wasn’t involved and even more glad that he was one of the players who pulled the fighters apart as the referee blew his whistle, dolling out penalties.
They watched the weird team wrestling which was apparently called a ‘scrum’ and they watched goals and tries being scored. At one point, Kip even scored a try. Ilya wasn’t certain he really needed to dive across the line, landing on the ground before rolling to his feet instead of placing the ball on the ground but it wasn’t his sport and who was he to judge if Kip was showing off?
Finally, the game ended with a loud siren.
Kip’s team was victorious, scoring more points than the other team.
There was a brief celebration on the field before the players lined up to shake hands, indicating the game was over. The crowd cheered and clapped, enjoying the show as beside him, Ilya felt Luca relax.
“Good huh?” He asked, turning to the kid.
Luca looked wide eyed through his glasses at the players and nodded.
“It was so fast with no skates.” He said.
Ilya nodded before rising to his feet and waving. On the field, he could see Kip glancing around, looking for him. Then the man spotted him and smiled, raising his own hand.
Ilya had seen Kip briefly before the game the night before and had told him that he had the morning off. Kip had expressed his apologies when Ilya had suggested they catch up, telling Ilya he had a game and Scott had training. Ilya couldn’t even go to the Kingfisher at the moment, since it was under renovations after Scott and Eric Bennet had bought it out and wasn’t scheduled for its grand re-opening for another week. Which was a shame.
Still, Ilya had nothing else planned and it wasn’t like he couldn’t be a spectator for once. So after some gentle bullying, he had managed to get the details of Kip’s game out of him, along with a promise to come and watch. Kip had been a little hesitant at that.
The man was friends with a lot of professional athletes and basically the good luck charm of the New York Admirals so the idea of any of them coming to his amateur rugby match had felt a little silly but as Ilya had pointed out, even if he was an Olympic level athlete, put him in a rugby game and he would be as useful to the team as a duck.
Kip had laughed at that one before agreeing and Ilya was glad he did. He had even promised not to fight anyone who may tackle Kip during the game.
“Come.” He said to Luca. “Time to meet my good friend.”
—--
Kip was still coming down from the rush of excitement at winning a game as he separated himself from his teammates and made his way to the fence where he had spied his friend waiting. He was sweaty, his hair a mess and his jersey sticking to his body uncomfortably but he ignored it.
Normally Kip tried to present himself as neat and clean, even when he had been forced to wear the embarrassing uniform from the Straw+Berry but thanks to the recent changes in his social circle, he had seen a lot of men in similar states of fatigue and exhaustion and he had learnt to be ok with it, despite the urge to clean himself.
Besides, there was only so much time he had to spend with his friend.
It had become fairly common now for famous athletes to attend his teams' games. The rest of his team was aware of who his husband was and the fact that he had basically befriended the entire starting lineup of the New York Admirals Hockey Team which meant there was a lot of crossover between the two worlds. Scott tried to be at every game he could and had even learnt to be less obvious about how anxious he got when the game got rough. Carter Vaughne was at almost as many games as Scott, mostly to tease and generally one or two of the others would attend as well. Hell, Tommy Anderson, the Admirals new starting Goalie had fallen in love with the game, and even asked Kip to teach him how to kick and throw the ball properly. He had been determined to see if he could incorporate some of the tactics into hockey.
Kip had indulged him one day by bringing a rugby ball to one of the Admirals training sessions and Tommy had delighted in trying to catch it as he skated at speed past Kip who was standing at the door of the penalty box. He had missed it nine times out of ten, thanks to his bulky goalies padding and fallen at least three times, the last when he decided to try and kick the ball into the net while wearing skates. Despite the laughter from the rest of the team, Murdock had eventually pulled them up, telling Tommy to get back to his goal posts for training and Kip to get off the ice, ignoring how everyone else had protested at that.
But none of the players were here today, a training session taking up their morning.
Usually, if the boys were training, Eric Bennett or Greg Huff would attend, since they were both now retired but Huff was overseas with his wife and Eric was busy with the last minute preparations for the Kingfisher’s reopening.
Kip's own, non-hickey friends had been equally busy, Kyle with helping Eric and the rest with their own lives and so, Kip hadn’t expected anyone to be in the stands for him. Until he had talked with Ilya the night before and the man stated he would attend.
“Hey Ilya!” Kip greeted, as he jogged to the fence.
It was definitely odd, being the one in sports gear. Usually, when he saw Ilya, it was either in a social setting or Ilya was the one in the sweaty jersey.
“Kip.” Ilya said, smile already on his handsome face. “Good game. I saw no bad players who need talking to.”
Kip rolled his eyes at that. Ilya had often made threats against other rugby players for tackling him, no matter how many times he explained that it was part of the game and Kip knew how to fall safely.
“Thanks.” He said dryly as Ilya grinned playfully. “So glad none of my teammates are going to be murdered tonight.”
Ilya just winked at him knowingly.
Kip was contemplating what else to say when he realised they weren’t alone, a tall blonde kid, maybe in his late teens, was standing at Ilya’s back. He looked faintly familiar and yet, Kip didn’t know where he had seen him before. The kid was wearing glasses and Kip could see that, behind the glass lenses, the boy's blue eyes were fixed on the patch on the left sleeve of his jersey. The small rainbow flag he and his team mates wore proudly every game.
Ilya seemed to notice Kip was looking at the kid and turned, placing a hand on the kid's shoulder.
“Kip, this is my team mate, Luca Haas.” He said. He glanced at Luca. “Haas, this is my friend Kip. He is good listener but has terrible taste in men.”
Kip reached over and punched Ilya in the arm, hard. Ilya let out an overdramatic yelp, reaching up to rub the area Kip hit.
“So rude. And I just said nice things.”
Kip pulled a face at him before turning to the kid, Luca. Now he was thinking about it, he did recognise the kid. Kip had made an effort to keep up with the Centaur’s roster of players, ever since Ilya had moved. That had mostly consisted of stalking the Centaur’s social media pages, since whoever was running those pages was hilarious and singularly dedicated to getting as many dumb pictures of Ilya as humanly possible, but he had definitely seen Haas on some of those posts.
“Ignore him.” Kip said, reaching over the fence, his hand outstretched in greeting. “Kip Grady. I am unlucky enough to be a friend of Ilya’s.” He said, smiling at the kid.
Luca hesitated a split second and Kip wondered if it had something to do with the pride flag before he reached across and accepted the handshake.
“Luca Haas.” He said in a thick accent. German, if Kip wasn’t mistaken.
“You know each other now. Good. Haas can help me enact my plan.” Ilya said before the kid could say anything else. Not that Kip thought he would. He appeared nervous.
“Plan?” Kip asked, releasing Luca’s hand and glancing at Ilya but Ilya ignored him, turning to the younger hockey player.
“Kip is Scott Hunter's husband and good luck charm for the New York Admirals. I need you to help me kidnap him and take him to Ottawa to become our good luck charm instead.” He said in a deadpan tone of voice.
Luca’s eyes widened in panic as Kip rolled his own eyes.
“You are not taking me to Ottawa, Ilya. I think Scott would actually kill you if you tried.” He said.
“Why not?” Ilya asked. “Harris would like you and we now have team puppy. Much better than Admirals.” He said.
“Um, because I live and work here. And as I said, Scott would murder you.” Kip pointed out.
Ilya shrugged.
“Scott loves me. He’s just too much of a coward to admit it.” Ilya replied.
Kip shot him a look.
“Don’t be a bitch.” He said.
Ilya just smirked.
“Ok.” The Russian replied. “But let's pretend one day. Then if Scott annoys you, you hide and I send pictures. Make him sweat.”
Kip rolled his eyes again.
“Moving on from this very disturbing plan to kidnap me, Luca, are you a rugby fan?”
Luca almost jumped out of his skin. The kid had been looking increasingly nervous as soon as Ilya had begun plotting out a felony.
“Ah, yes?” He said, the inflection of his voice making it sound like a question.
“Was his first game.” Ilya stated. Now the conversation had shifted, the man had tilted his body to lean against the fence separating him and Luca from Kip.
“But was good!” Luca quickly added on. “Very fast. Very…..sporty.”
Kip gave him a friendly smile.
“The rules are very different from Hockey.” He said. “I know a few hockey players who really struggle to understand it.”
“I understand it perfectly.” Ilya said. Kip glanced at him.
“Ok. What's a forward pass then?” He asked.
Ilya glared at him but didn’t reply to the question. Kip shook his head and turned back to Luca.
“You are in your first season, right? Ilya said you were the number two draft pick which is amazing and I saw your goal against Buffalo a few weeks back. It was incredible. Scott was also amazed.”
Luca blushed at the praise. He wasn’t used to it. Although he was a great player, Ottawa’s losing streak meant a lot of his standout moments on the ice, including his first ever goal were often overshadowed. But to hear the praise and from a well placed source such as the husband of one of the greatest current players was heartwarming.
“Thank you.” He muttered. The group fell into silence, Luca unsure what else to say and Kip trying to think of another way to engage the very shy kid in conversation.
He couldn’t quite figure out the kids' deal or why he kept glancing at the pride patch. Initially, Kip guessed the kid was homophobic but he knew Ilya wouldn’t tolerate that association, nor would he put a friend in a position of dealing with a homophobe. Maybe the kid was closeted? Kip remembered speaking to Eric Bennett and learning of the conversation the older man had with Ilya when he was still trying to figure out his thoughts on his sexuality. Was that what Ilya was doing? Finding closeted people and showing them it was ok to be themselves? If so, it was a strange move for Ilya, who was still in the closet himself. But no, that wasn’t fair. Ilya wasn’t in the closet. He had just never been asked so never had to tell. He had never actually hidden anything.
“You heard this shit about Toronto?” Ilya asked after a long moment. Kip glanced at him.
“About that Kent guy? Yes, I heard.” His tone, unlike before, was low. Angry.
“Is bad. More coming out every day and the League is burying it. Telling everyone not to speak. But the leak…” Ilya stopped talking, which was odd for him.
“Yeah. I mean, it's hard to deny you are a piece of shit when there is footage of your friend calling you out in front of everyone.” Kip replied. He honestly was surprised the news wasn’t bigger. A rising star of hockey turned out to be a serial rapist should have been huge. It certainly was amongst the Admirals. Kip knew that everyone had an opinion on it, and it was overwhelmingly believed that it was all true even if they weren’t allowed to say it aloud.
“What is your thought of the friend? Troy Barrett?” Ilya asked.
Kip thought for a moment. He remembered the name from conversations with Scott, usually after Toronto matches. They hadn’t been complementary and had always been linked with Kent, but something about how Ilya asked made him stop from blurting out the first thing on his mind.
“I know Scott doesn’t think highly of him.” He said carefully. “But I also think that it would take guts to call out your friend like that in front of your whole team. Why?”
“As I said. League is burying it. And him.” Ilya stated.
“What?” Kip asked. He was leaning against the fence now, closer to the two men, as if they were talking about something secret.
“He has been traded to Ottawa.” Luca said from next to Ilya.
Kip took a deep breath then slowly released it through his nose. He could feel several different emotions. Anger, disapointment, sadness. And all of them for many different reasons. He was angry. Angry that the League was treating the Centaurs like a dumping ground, that their ‘punishment’ was the team. He was disappointed on Ilya’s (and yes, Luca’s) behalf that they would have to be on a team with the guy. And a little bit of sadness. For this Troy Barrett.
The guy had done the right thing in the end. He had called out a rapist. And everything he had was being taken from him. What must that be like? To lose it all?
And what would it be like for the Centaurs to have such a person? Kip was so glad he was part of such an inclusive team. He knew if anyone he played with stepped out of line, they would all call it out. And they would all protect those who had done the right thing. But they were just an amateur team. Nowhere near the level of the Centaurs. Nowhere near the visibility.
“Fuck.” He muttered.
“Yes. That is the reaction of the team.” Ilya said, nodding.
“So what are you going to do?” Kip asked, glancing between Ilya and Luca. He couldn’t help but notice, Ilya didn’t look his normal, cocky self. He looked tired.
Although Kip hadn’t seen Ilya in person much since his move to Ottawa, he had noticed, the few times they did manage to catch up, that Ilya always seemed tired. Initially, Kip had guessed something was wrong between him and Shane. Maybe they had called it off. But now he was wondering if Ilya was truly happy since he had made the move. If he had given up too much for this relationship he was in.
Kip remembered, back when he and Scott had first tried dating in secret, how he had started to feel. Being a dirty little secret had been horrible. But having to make the decision to walk away from the relationship had been even worse. It was both the most important and the most painful thing Kip had ever done. And Ilya was doing it on a much more visible platform than Kip, who had been a nobody.
Kip knew it wasn’t his place to tell Ilya to leave his relationship but he wondered if it would be for the best, or if it would kill Ilya if he did end the relationship.
Ilya finally seemed to pull himself out of his slump.
“I don’t know.” He admitted. “I am Captain and yet, I have no idea. I am supposed to be there for everyone. So do I play nice with possible asshole or do I back team?”
“Do you know if he is an asshole?” Kip asked.
Ilya snorted and even Luca looked indignant but Kip powered on.
“I mean, away from Toronto? Away from this Kent guy’s influence? Who is he? What’s his deal? He was brave enough to side against a friend which can’t have been easy. He would have had everyone he knew telling him to conform and he didn’t. He’s got to have some sort of soul.”
Ilya paused, looking thoughtful.
“True.” He said slowly.
“Maybe it would be worth giving him a try. See if he can become a good teammate. That’s what I would do, if it was my team. You don’t have to throw out the red carpet but be better than he was and maybe he will be better too.” Kip suggested.
Ilya nodded. Even Luca seemed to be contemplating Kip’s words.
“And if he is an asshole still…..well, I don’t know anyone who can out asshole Ilya Rozanov.” He added.
That got a smile from Ilya. It was small. But it was real.
Deciding it was time to lighten the mood a little, Kip glanced over at Luca.
“When do you guys need to get back to your hotel? If you have a few hours, I can take you to see the renovations at the Kingfisher. They look amazing and it's a shame you won’t be there for the opening night but since I am kinda sleeping with one of the owners, I can sneak you in early.”
Ilya lit up at the offer, even as Luca looked a little confused.
“Da. We have time.” The Russian said, enthusiastically. “And we can get New York Bagels on the way.” He glanced over at Luca. “You ever had one Haas?”
Luca shook his head.
“Then is plan. Bagels and Kingfisher.” Ilya said, clapping his hands together in excitement.
Kip smiled at Ilya’s sudden enthusiasm.
“Great. Let me quickly get changed and grab my gear and we can go.” He said.
Ilya nodded and Kip jogged away, heading to the small locker room his teammates used.
A few hours later, he would wave goodbye to Ilya and Luca out the front of the Kingfisher, Ilya hoarding a large bag of bagels like it was a valuable treasure and Luca, still quiet but pleased with the small pride patch Kip had given him (The kid had quietly asked if Kip had a spare one when they were touring the bar with Kyle and Eric and Kip had happily handed one over)
Ilya had also promised that he would keep Kip in the loop about this issue with Troy Barrett. And although it took a few months, when Ilya had brought Barrett to the Kingfisher to meet Kip, Scott, Eric and Kyle, well, Kip knew they were right to take a chance on the guy.