Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was supposed to be a silly ha ha joke. Ilya had made a very silly ha ha joke Hollander.

"What if we just gaslight everyone at camp into thinking they forgot we are together?" Ilya had joked.

"What?" Shane had asked, face adorably scrunched up in confusion. "Who taught you that word?"

"Kip. But see, we just kiss and hold hands and do couple shit in front of the coaches and make them think they've known the whole time." Ilya had laughed because it was a funny joke.

And then been distracted by Shane's hot thinking/pondering face. "Y'know that's not a bad idea." And then he'd pointed out that Hayden and Ryan already knew and it would be easy but maybe they should do a dry run first-

So Ilya found himself sitting in the Kingfisher during the summer. Because his boyfriend thought his silly joke was a good idea. He did brighten when Kyle sidled up to the table.

"Ah! My favourite bartender!" Ilya exclaimed.

"Hi Ilya," Kyle greeted warmly. "Please tell me you're not drinking at 3pm on a Tuesday in the middle of July, that's kinda depressing."

"Is start of July," Ilya corrected. "And I am not the one that suggested it."

"We can leave-" Shane teased.

"You drag me away from peaceful cottage five days early to fly to New York, a city known for being unbearable in the summer, and you want to leave?" Ilya looked at Kyle. "Yes I am drinking at 3pm on a Tuesday."

Kyle tilted his head. "Didn't you live in Boston for eight years?" 

"He went back to Russia basically every summer," Shane answered before Ilya could, Kyle's head tilted further to the side and his eyes moved between the two of them.

"Until you started abducting me from NHL awards," Ilya deadpanned.

"I have never kidnapped you from the NHL awards."

"I have proof to the contrary, Hollander." 

"Bullshi-"

"Okay it is 3pm on a Tuesday and we are in family friendly mode!" Kyle interrupted. "As much family friendly mode as hockey players can fucking do."

"Sorry, Kyle." 

"Rozanov's the one apologizing?" Kyle shook his head. "Okay two beers-"

"One beer," Ilya corrected, "and the no sugar added ginger mocktail you made me last time."

"You said it was disgusting," Kyle noted.

"Hollander will like it."

Kyle looked at Shane. "I promise it's not actually disgusting-"

"Ilya says I'll like it I probably will." Shane kicked Ilya under the table. "Thank you, Kyle."

Ilya started a timer on his phone the second Kyle retreated behind the bar, sitting it face-up. 

"What are you doing?" Shane asked, instantly suspicious. "Are you timing how long it takes him to make-"

"No, I'm timing how long it takes one of the other three to show up." Ilya leaned back in the booth and set his arm over Shane's shoulders like it was the most normal thing for them to do in a semi-public place. "My bet's on Benny or Hunter first."

"You have to pick one for a bet, Ilya."

"I know, Shane." Ilya hummed as Shane relaxed into his side. "Benny. Hunter is old, his bones do not move fast."

"You are the worst."

"You love it."

"Questioning that right now."

Ilya turned his head to whisper into Shane's ear, "ya tebya lyublyu."

Shane sighed, fond, adoring, while smiling the equally fond, adoring smile he reserved for Ilya's antics. "Ya tebya lyublyu," he repeated in his butchered Russian.

"Getting better," Ilya noted. 

And Shane preened. 

And Kyle delivered their drinks.

And Ilya did not move his arm.

"What are you timing?" Kyle asked.

A second later Eric Bennett stepped through the door. Ilya stopped the timer and grinned at Kyle. 

"You are an incorrigible gossip," Ilya observed. 

"Who the fuck taught you that word?" Shane demanded.

"Ruby, her kindergarten teacher used it and she had me look it up," Ilya answered.

"All due respect, happy to have you Shane, but why the fuck are you in my bar in the middle of summer on a random fucking Tuesday?" Eric asked, arm in a sling. 

"Because I was bored-"

"Liar," Ilya interjected, Shane ignored him.

"-and the flights from Ottawa to New York were cheap."

Eric looked at Shane like he was insane. It was nice to be in the pair of them and not be the one everyone assumed was nuts for once. "Because we're in the middle of a fucking heat wave, Hollander."

"Ilya's been nagging me for years-"

"Two years."

"-to come visit and that's still plural years." Shane took a sip of his mocktail. 

"The fuck did you do to him?" Eric asked Ilya.

"Many things, be more specific." 

"What the fuck happened to the nice all-Canadian hockey kid?" 

"Is a front," Ilya dismissed.

And then Scott and Kip arrived. 

"You're late!" Ilya shouted at them.

"You really bet on me being a gossip to get them here?" Kyle asked.

"Eh, knew you would tell them, knew they would show up because they would not believe you." Ilya took a sip of his beer and smirked at Scott. "And I was right your ancient bones took forever to get here."

"Ilya," Shane sighed.

Ilya shrugged and quieted down as Shane politely greeted Scott and Kip. 

Scott who was squinting at Ilya's arm around Shane's shoulder. He could see the puzzle pieces clearly in Scott's head. The countless games Boston had won over New York and Ilya had proclaimed his love for every one of his teammates as they got off the ice combined with how Ilya just generally was. But also, Shane was known across the league to be gay. Ilya who'd moved from a city that loved him and had great stats and attendance to the worst team in the league in the city Shane grew up in, two hours away from Shane.

Ilya had given his room number to Shane in 2011 right in front of Scott, who'd been his neighbour. Shane who got into a gloves-off fight after Scott had alluded to Ilya.

Those were pieces that Scott alone had. 

"Nope," he heard Scott breathe, and then he walked into the employees only section of the bar.

"I think you broke him," Kip said, watching his husband disappear through a door.

"With what?" Shane asked, so perfectly feigning his innocent sweet Canadian boy-next-door face that Ilya almost believed him.

"This feels like a really bad joke," Eric declared. "And if it is I'm punching both of you."

"What is joke?" Ilya asked. 

"Don't be an asshole you know what a joke is-" Kip cut himself off. "Oh you mean what does Eric think the joke is."

"Yes, what is joke?" Ilya repeated. 

Shane pressed his foot against Ilya's and then took a loud slurp of his drink through the bright pink straw in the glass. 

They both blinked at the three men still standing at the end of the table. For several minutes there was just silence. 

And then Scott came back and braced his hands on the tabletop, looking both of them in the eye. 

"Since 2011?" He hissed.

Shane smiled and sipped more.

"You- longer?" Scott looked at Ilya who shrugged.

"I do not know what you are talking about, Scott." Shane stepped a little harder on Ilya's foot. Ilya took a sip of his beer and muttered, "longer" into it. 

Scott's eye twitched. "Shane I'm going to kill him."

"Please don't."

"Is he ever not an asshole?"

"No."

Scott took a deep breath. "I'm going to go have a mental breakdown in the walk-in. Be right back."

Ilya gave him a two finger salute and kept drinking his beer. 

Shane, helpfully, shouted after him, "blame your husband!"

"How is any of this my fault?" Kip asked.

"You taught Ilya the word gaslight," Shane stated.