Work Text:
The thing about working for the government, is people tend to stay at their jobs. This is good for David Hollander, who is not particularly adept at charming new people and making new friends. Most of his coworkers have known him more than twenty years, and are perfectly nice, and happy when he joins them for lunch or tags along for after work drinks.
Glen is actually a friend, though. He and his wife Phoebe come to the cottage in the summer and eat grilled chicken and swim in the lake. David and Yuna go to their place for dinner in the winter and play cards next to the wood burning stove, and neither of them seem to mind when Yuna plays like her life depends on the outcome. They too have one child, a daughter born the same summer as Shane, and while they spent all their time and money on theater camp instead of hockey camp, David’s always known Glen could relate to having a talented child obsessed with one thing and one thing only.
Still, the last thing David expects on a random Wednesday afternoon is Glen to show up next to his desk asking, “Do you want to go to New York with me this weekend?”
“Me? With you?” They always do things with their wives, unless they’re doing something with the office.
Glen laughs. “You. With me. Hayleigh got a part in Waitress, and her mom and I were going to go see her, but Phoebe has to go to Japan tomorrow, so there’s an extra ticket. She already changed the hotel room to two queen beds, checked with the airline about rebooking in your name, and I’ve got a friend looking into hockey tickets for Sunday night. Shane’s playing the Admirals, right?”
Shane is, indeed, playing in New York this weekend. It’s been ages since David went to one of his away games. Not since last season. Still. “What about work on Monday? “
“There’s nothing pressing. Bill said you can take PTO.”
David is torn between feeling pressured and managed, and pleased that his friend knows him well enough to anticipate all the concerns his brain will spit at him and have found answers.
“I know last minute plans suck, but you know Phoebe. One second she has an idea, and the next, it’s fully manifested. The universe better fall in line or else.”
“I better check with Yuna.”
That gets him a slap on the shoulder, and another laugh. “If you think that wasn’t the first thing Phoebe did this morning when she found out about her work trip.”
“Right.”
A trip to New York it is.
Yuna drops them off at the airport at lunch time Saturday, and they get to the hotel just after the 4pm check-in. David has a list of restaurants near the hotel, and near the theater in case that seems better. Glen can be pretty scattered when there’s not a clear plan. But that’s okay, because David is good with plans. He found several options, depending on what they want to eat.
Glen wants to take a nap, but really, they should decide where they’re eating. They’ll want to get to the theater by 6:30, and restaurants are probably busy on Saturday night. David had not appreciated before this trip how much time management Yuna does when they travel. He has never once had to negotiate when they are leaving to get somewhere. They are leaving when Yuna says they’re leaving.
“Do you want Italian?” David asks.
“We can just grab whatever on the way to the theater,” Glen responds, adjusting the pillow under his head.
David closes his list of restaurants and opens the text thread with his wife. Sends, I love you.
I love you too. What happened?
There’s no point asking why she thinks something happened. David frequently tells his wife he loves her, but he’s not much of a texter.
Glen is napping and it’s already almost quarter of five. Theater doors open at 6:15.
The phone rings, and Glen grumbles and turns over like maybe he’s actually sleeping and not just resting his eyes. David gets it answered before it rings a second time. A miracle, honestly. This phone usually ignores his fingers on the screen. He still misses his Blackberry. That was a real phone.
“You’ll be fine,” Yuna says before he can even say hello. “There’s a Chipotle two blocks from your hotel with a metro stop right outside. Three stops and you’ll be a few blocks from the theater. I know the food’s not great but it will be fast. Glen has zero sense of urgency. Let him nap for ten more minutes, and that gives you time to shower the plane off. You can be out the door by 5:15.”
He loves his wife so much.
“I don’t tell you often enough how much I appreciate you.”
“We have compatible skill sets, honey. I appreciate you too. Have fun at the show, and give Hayleigh my love.”
David showers, wakes Glen up, and follows Yuna’s directions.
They make it to the theater at 6:28.
The show is lots of fun, and Hayleigh does a great job. Plus, Glen gets the message that they got their hockey tickets sometime during the second act. David is excited to see Shane.
They get there before warmups even start by dint of David convincing Glen it’s the best place for them to get beer. The seats are amazing—as good as Shane’s guest seats in Montreal.
“Where did these seats come from?” David asks, just as Glen shoves a whole handful of popcorn into his mouth.
Fortunately, Glen chews and swallows before answering. “My college roommate has a kid on the team. He and his wife are on a cruise in Alaska right now so didn’t need the tickets.”
“Be sure to thank him for me. These are great seats.”
Glen laughs. “I would never dare to put you in inferior seats for a Shane Hollander game.”
“I’m not too good to sit in the nosebleeds.”
“You are the father of the best hockey player in the world.”
David looks around, but there’s no one sitting near them yet. “Don’t let the New York fans hear you say that.”
Glen gives him a tolerant side-eye. “They won the cup last year. I don’t think they’ll be offended.”
David goes to get another round of beers, and when he comes back, the teams are on the ice, and there’s a young man sitting next to David’s seat. He looks familiar, but David can’t place him. After a few minutes, an older man comes and hands him a beer.
“Thanks, dad,” the kid says, and David sharply misses the days he and Shane would go to games together.
Not that he wishes his son hadn’t gone pro. He’s living his dream, and David is so happy for him and so proud. But there were a few years when Shane was young where hockey was just something they both loved. Before things got intense. Before Shane was always on the ice and David was always in the stands.
Shane spots him then, and gives him a big wave and a smile from center ice. Suddenly Scott Hunter is skating towards him, face set. He skids to a stop before the center line, points to his eyes and then to Shane’s face.
“Oh my god, Scott, I was kidding,” mutters the kid next to him, and that’s when David realizes. He’s the man Scott Hunter kissed on the ice at the cup final.
“You’re Scott Hunter’s boyfriend,” he blurts. “Sorry. I’m—sorry.” He waves towards where Hayden’s pulling Shane away from the center line towards the rest of the team. “I’m Shane’s dad. Number 24? On the Metros.”
Glen elbows him. “I think everyone here tonight knows who Shane is, buddy.”
“Kip,” the kid says, reaching to shake his hand.
“David.”
Kip’s dad shakes his hand too. “I’m George. Kip’s my boy.”
“So good to meet you.”
David can hear Ilya telling them, It changed things for me. Maybe for us, wishes he could find words for what he wants to say to Kip and the man who raised him. Yes, Scott was brave—hugely brave—but Kip was brave too. And must be quite a guy for Scott to have risked his career for him like that.
“So good to meet you,” he repeats.
The game starts with three great saves from the Admirals goalie, and David can see Shane’s frustration, in his skating, the set of his shoulders even under the pads. As always though, frustration doesn’t distract his son, and not five minutes later Shane sails the puck over Bennet’s right shoulder into the corner of the net.
His phone beeps with a text, and he assumes it’s from Yuna, but when he looks, it’s from Ilya.
Saw you on TV. You are sitting next to Scott Hunter’s boyfriend. Tell him Shane will get hat trick tonight if his old man doesn’t start skating faster.
David will not be doing that.
Scott isn’t that much older than you.
Do they not teach chirps at McGill
David doesn’t know how Ilya even knows about McGill. He can’t remember talking to him about where he went to university.
Glen whoops and starts clapping, and Kip boos as his dad yells at the ref, so David turns his attention back to the game. Hayden and Shane are hugging, Bennet and Hunter are squaring up on a linesman as a ref skates over. The board now shows 2-0 for the Metros. But all gloves stay on, and no one seems to be actively calling for a review.
Kip leans closer. “Shane’s on fire tonight.”
David can’t help glowing. “He’s the best. Though I will admit to being biased.”
But then Scott wins the face-off and takes off like he heard Ilya’s chirp all the way from Boston. He dances the puck around JJ like the defenseman isn’t even there and sneaks in under Miitka’s glove for the score. Kip leaps up, screaming, and his dad looks up at him like he hung the moon and the stars and scored that goal himself before beaming down at the Admirals celebration.
Scott’s an orphan, David knows—everyone in hockey knows—but maybe he’s finding a surrogate dad in this unassuming man giving him two thumbs up as he shouts praise down to the ice.
David hopes so. The same way he hopes Ilya will continue to let David and Yuna into his life.
At the end of the first period it’s still 2-1. George says to Kip, “Get your old man a beer, will you?”
“Would you or your friend like anything, Mr. Hollander?” Kip asks, standing.
“If you’re fetching, we’re buying.” David gives him a $50 from the fold of US dollars Yuna handed to him when she dropped him at the airport.
“That’s okay—” Kip tries to hand the money back, but David ignores him.
“And call me David. You’re making me feel old.”
Kip looks a question at his dad, and clearly gets a silent answer, because he stops arguing and gives David a smile before heading off towards the concourse, leaving George to scoot over into Kip’s seat. Glen taps his phone on David’s arm and says he’s gonna call Phoebe, before trailing after Kip.
George and David make small talk about the game for a few moments before George looks David in the eye, his face going serious.
“I wanted to tell you. Scott’s mentioned more than once what a good kid your son is, as well as a good player. You must be so proud of him.”
“I am.”
“I’ve been worrying about Kip since he was a kid, but I taught at his high school, so I had some control—no, that’s too strong a word—some perspective on what he was dealing with. Some input. I could make sure he had mentors and role models. That the bullies saw consequences.”
David’s heart clenches. He would love to think he would have done the same for Shane if he’d known when his son was in high school that he was gay, but even now he can’t imagine how he would have gone about it. Shane’s whole life was hockey. Besides his coworkers, David only knew coaches and trainers and other parents. They were all just as entrenched in hockey culture as he was.
“Scott, though,” George continues. “He hasn’t had that. It breaks my heart.”
David murmurs something he hopes sounds like sympathy, or agreement. He feels both, but has no idea what to say.
“His team’s been pretty good. The league’s been mixed to say the least. But a few players from the other teams have gone out of their way to let him know they support him, and Shane’s one of them. Wanted to make sure you knew that and say thank you. Supporting Scott is supporting Kip too, and it means a lot to me.”
“That’s, uh—” David blinks rapidly. He is not going to cry in the middle of this arena. But apparently he’s not going to finish his sentence either. His words are stuck. Instead, he reaches for George’s hand and shakes it heartily.
Kip comes back and distributes the beers, breaking the silence. Glen returns, play resumes, David stops feeling like he’s about to cry.
In the second period, the Metros give the Admiral’s defense a workout, but never get the puck over the line, and just before the buzzer, Scott makes a great pass to Vaughn, who scores to tie the game.
Watching Kip and George cheer, David can’t help feeling almost as proud as if the assist had been Shane’s.
He will never tell Yuna.
Or Shane.
He thinks maybe he could tell Ilya one day, though.
The four of them chat through the second intermission, Kip, who has tickets to go see Waitress with a friend in a few weeks, asking questions about Hayleigh and how David and Glen liked the show, George telling the story of the whole cast coming down with norovirus the year he directed the high school’s drama club Romeo and Juliet, and Glen encouraging David to tell the story of the summer Shane and Hayleigh took the canoe out fishing and Hayleigh caught a fishhook in Shane’s shoulder.
It’s nice. David is used to Yuna’s intense play-by-play commentary through every intermission, and he does miss her, but he is enjoying hockey as a simple fan.
The third period is tense, each team alternating shots on goal with no points until David’s sure it will go to overtime. Then, with three seconds left on the clock, Vaughn fakes out Miitka and passes to Scott who scores. The whole arena erupts like the Admirals just won the cup, not the twelfth game of the season. David can’t help cheering along with the crowd.
While they’re waiting for the stands to clear out a bit, David finds one of Yuna’s business cards and a pen in his pockets. He writes his name and cell phone number on the back of the card and hands it to George.
“My wife and I think the world of Scott and what he’s doing for hockey. If he’s ever in need of a home-cooked meal—or anything else—when he’s in Ottowa, please tell him to call me.”
There’s a flash of surprise on George’s face, but he searches David’s eyes, and then gives a brief nod. “I will.”
“Or if you or Kip—” David trails off, not sure what might bring the man or his son to Canada’s capital. “Anything at all,” he finishes awkwardly.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” George tucks the card into his wallet.
Once on the concourse, they head their separate ways.
“Be sure to thank your friend again for the tickets,” David tells Glen as they make their way to the subway. “I had an amazing time.”
David can’t imagine that Scott Hunter will ever come over for dinner. Unless—maybe once the boys get their hockey camps going, they’ll get Scott involved, and David will get a chance to thank him in person for being brave enough to change his kid’s life. And bring him a second kid to love.
Epilogue
Scott is exhausted and very well fucked, but still buzzing from the last-second win. Kip has cleaned them both up, kissed all the bruises on Scott’s ribs and thigh and shoulder, and is stroking fingers through Scott’s hair as Scott hums contentedly into Kip’s neck.
“You know I was kidding when I said I’d take a hall pass for Shane Hollander, right?” Kip asks.
“Hmm?” Scott knows those words are English, but can’t parse what they mean.
“I assume that’s why you looked like you were going to throw down in the middle of warmups when he waved hello to his father.”
What? Warmups. They were so long ago. “You can’t make me come that hard and then speak in riddles.”
Kip kisses the top of Scott’s head. “I met Shane Hollander’s dad at the game tonight. We were sitting next to him.”
Oh. Ohhhh. Right. Hollander had looked up at Kip, gotten a delighted smile on his face, and waved enthusiastically. A) No one is stealing Scott’s man. B) Scott is pretty sure Ilya Rozanov will murder anyone who captures Hollander’s attention for too long. C) No one is murdering Scott’s man.
If he was waving at his father, that’s preferable all around. He tries not to sound too relieved. “He wasn’t flirting with you.”
“Shane’s dad?” Now Kip sounds confused.
“What? No.” Scott’s pretty sure he’s never seen Mr. Hollander make actual eye contact with anyone but his son and his wife. He cannot imagine him flirting with anyone as open and earnest as Kip, even if he were gay. Besides. “I’ve met Yuna Hollander. Her husband wouldn’t dare. I mean Shane.”
“No. Shane wasn’t flirting with me. Is there a reason that he would?”
Scott kisses the corner of Kip’s jaw. “I know you know what you look like.”
“Yeah, but I’m not most hockey players’ type. Pretty sure you’re the only hockey player who’s ever flirted with me.”
Scott is one hundred percent certain that’s not true, but he’s happy for Kip to remain ignorant on that particular subject.
“I better be,” Scott says decisively, rolling them so Kip’s on top of him and pulling him into a kiss.