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Scott Hunter was going to murder Hayden Pike. He didn’t give a damn that the man had four kids. If he saw the man, he was going to punch him so hard, Pike would be on concussion watch for the next decade.
How fucking dare he!
It was that rightful fury that got Scott from the rink in Chicago where he had been in a training session with his team, to the airport. Got him on the plane to Ottawa and got him into the hire car at the airport which Kip had organised.
He hadn’t been approached at all by any fans during his mad dash out of the country. He wasn’t sure if it was because of a general respect for his privacy or if his righteous fury was so obvious on his face. Or maybe it was because of the news which was circulating like wild fire, shocking everyone into silence.
Well, everyone except his very competent husband. Scott thanked God every day for bringing him the man he had married.
As soon as the news had leaked, Kip had gotten to work. He had called Scott and told him exactly what to do. Called Murdock. Made it plain as day that Scott wouldn’t be at the rest of practice that morning or the game against Chicago that night. Made it plain that something far more important that Hockey was currently happening and Scott was not to be bothered with anything.
Scott wasn’t sure how Kip had managed it, all the way back in New York. But he was glad he did.
He was equally glad that when he arrived in Ottawa, Kip was already there, having jumped on a plane in New York to meet him.
Kip had looked pale and stressed as Scott had pulled him into a full body hug in the middle of the terminal, just wanting to take a moment to know he was real. A solid presence in this crazy world.
“This is nuts.” Kip had muttered against Scott’s shoulder, returning the hug. “I can’t believe this has happened.”
“Its a fucking nightmare.” Scott agreed, his voice grim.
Because it was. It was Scott’s worst nightmare come to life. Just not to him.
“How do you think they are doing?” Kip asked quietly, finally pulling out of the hug. But he didn’t release Scott entirely, instead reaching for his hand and threading their fingers together.
Scott shrugged. He honestly had no idea but he guessed it was not ok. How could it be, given the circumstances. Turning, Scott headed to the exit. He didn’t need to drag Kip out, the other man turning to match his stride, his arm pressed against Scott’s, their fingers still entwined.
“I have no idea. Bad, I suspect.” He stared.
Kip nodded next to him.
“I tried calling both of them. Got no answer.” Kip said as they stepped through the doors and the cold air hit them.
“Did you expect one?” Scott asked. In any normal conversation, it would be said in teasing, but they were far too tense for that. The situation was far too tense.
Kip just shook his head. Taking the lead, Kip guided Scott to the rental car area. He had already collected the keys for the hire car while waiting for Scott’s plane to land. It had given him something to do which wasn’t re-watching the footage.
The footage that had been leaked just that morning, showing Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander kissing in a very intimate way.
Seriously, Fuck Hayden Pike for that video!
For years, the possibility of being outed against his will had been Scott’s worst nightmare. Of people finding out he was gay before he was ready. He knew in the end he had been lucky. He had been allowed to come out on his own terms. He had Kip, the love of his life at his side. He had friends who he had been able to tell, who had been his biggest supporters. And he had the Admirals who had been amazing.
Yes, Scott had lost some things. A few of his sponsors had failed to renew his contacts (They had said it was for other reasons but Scott could read between the lines). A few mouthy assholes had been vocally abusive, namely homophobic fans and the occasional asshole player. The Man in the Crease Podcast and the Take Back Hockey movement had been the most outspoken against him but they were all wannabe’s anyway and could go fuck themselves.
Scott had been able to ignore it because he had been ready for it. Had planned with his agent and friends and Kip for it. The blows hadn’t landed as hard because he had braced for it, was able to deflect.
But this was different. This was bad.
Rozanov and Hollander were two of the most notable players in the League. Famous rivals, in fact. And more to the point, they were practically kids. Scott expected the backlash to land a lot harder for them.
Finding the car Kip had hired, Scott threw his bag in the back next to Kips and climbed into the passenger seat.
He didn’t know where Hollander and Rozanov would be hiding right now but Kip had a plan. Thanks to his friendship with Ilya, he had the man's address here in Ottawa. They would go there first and hopefully find them.
If that didn’t work, Scott had Hollander’s apartment number in Montreal. It was only about a two hour drive.
And if all else failed, Scott would call his agent and get the contact details for Yuna Hollander, Shane’s mother. They would find them. Scott wasn’t sure exactly what they could do once they did, but they could be there and try to help the kids weather this storm. Scott knew if he was in this situation, he wouldn’t want to be alone right now.
Pulling on his seatbelt, Scott glanced over at Kip in the driver's seat.
“How long do you think this has been going on?” He finally asked. Scott knew that Shane was gay. The kid had come out to him already, after Scott’s own public coming out.
And he had long suspected there was an attraction between the two. Rozanov’s flirting was blatantly obvious, in a mean way. The Russian liked to show his care for people by bullying and chirping. Hell, he seemed to make a sport of getting on Scott’s nerves, even though Scott knew Ilya liked him. And hell, Scott liked the asshole too.
But the man definitely liked to target Shane the most. The looks Rozanov sent Shane’s way and the way Hollander responded. It was hard not to see it, every time the two were in the same room. But he hadn’t expected it to be more than that. A bit of flirting/teasing.
The video however, suggested otherwise. A deeper intimacy.
Beside him, Kip bit at his lip, gripping the steering wheel hard. Scott knew that look. Kip wanted to tell him something but didn’t know if he could.
Scott shot him a look.
“Kip?” He asked.
Kip’s shoulders dropped.
“About a decade, give or take. At least that’s what Ilya said when I asked him.” He finally said.
Scott stared, his mouth dropping open.
“A decade?” He gasped.
Kip nodded, not looking at Scott. Scott could practically feel the guilt rolling off his husband.
“They got engaged last month too.” Kip added in a near whisper.
Scott was glad he wasn’t the one driving because he would have driven them into a tree.
Engaged? Not only had Hollander and Rozanov had a decade long secret relationship, but they were engaged? Holy shit!
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked. But even as he said it, Scott knew it was a stupid question. Of course Kip wouldn’t tell him. It wasn’t his business.
Kip had been out for years before Scott met him and had many gay friends. And although he was comfortable with who he was, not everyone could say the same. Scott may have been fairly new to the gay community but even he knew, you didn’t out your friends to anyone. Even your own partner.
Kip and Ilya had become good friends over the years, much to Scott’s annoyance, and Kip was the sort of person to radiate calm acceptance. Of course, Rozanov would have been comfortable coming out to him in the same way Scott had felt safe when they had first started hooking up, despite breaking his own rules to protect himself. Rozanov would have known Kip wouldn’t betray him.
Kip, thankfully, didn’t dignify Scott’s question with an answer, instead turning on the engine and driving the car out of the lot. Scott was sure whatever comment his husband had wouldn’t be kind if he did say it.
“Right.” Scott muttered, ducking his head.
He bit his lip, contemplating this new information. Over a decade. That would mean they had gotten together around their rookie season. That was a very long time to keep this a secret, especially if they were planning marriage. How the hell did anyone keep that hidden?
“Fuck.” He muttered as the enormity of it hit him. He and Kip had been on and off for almost three years before he came out and that had seemed like a lifetime. He couldn’t imagine keeping his marriage secret from everyone.
Kip let out a small hum and Scott knew he was thinking the same thing.
“Let's not over think it.” Kip said, again being the mind reader. “Let's just get there and see what we can do.”
Scott agreed wholeheartedly. Reaching over, he took Kip’s free hand in his own. It was going to be a long drive.
—--
In the end, they didn’t have to play a terrifying game of hide and seek for the pair. The boys were in the first place they looked.
Arriving in the leafy suburb in Ottawa, Scott was glad to see no one around the house. The press either hadn’t figured out the address yet or were being respectful for now. Scott was sure that would change soon enough. He remembered the frenzy of media hanging around his apartment after the Stanley Cup, how he had taken up residence in the Grady house for a few days until it died down.
He hoped the kids had some sort of private bolt hole they could go to.
But for now, it was the calm before the storm.
Kip parked the car in the driveway, behind a four-wheel drive with Canadian licence plates. Scott could guess it was probably Shane’s car. Rozanov was known for his flashy taste in vehicles and the sensible car in a generic colour was not the man’s style.
As much as Scott would like a minute to form his thoughts before stepping into the fray, Kip was out of the car as soon as the engine died, striding towards the front door.
Pulling off his own seatbelt, Scott jumped out of the car and rushed to follow him.
The few seconds between Kip pressing the doorbell and the door opening seemed to last an eternity but then the lock clicked open and Scott’s husband was stepping through the door, pulling Ilya Rozanov into a bear hug. Rozanov rather than say anything, seemed to fold into the hug gratefully.
Scott glanced over the two’s heads and spied Shane standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall. The kid's arms were wrapped around himself in a protective motion and he looked exhausted.
Kip was pushing Ilya back into the depths of his own home and Scott followed, closing the door behind them to block out the world.
“You got here fast.” He heard Rozanov mutter to Kip. “I only just got texts.”
“Of course we did.” Kip replied, his voice muffled against Ilya’s shoulder. “We weren’t going to leave you guys alone.”
The hug didn’t look like it was going to end any time soon so Scott moved past his husband and friend, walking over to Shane.
“Come on Rook. You look ready to drop.” He said, gently placing a reassuring hand on the other man's shoulder to guide him away from the door.
Eventually, the two couples found themselves in Ilya’s overly complex and spotless kitchen. The younger couple were seated at the island bench, Shane’s forehead pressed against Rozanov’s shoulder, his face hidden in the shirt sleeve fabric. The Russian was sitting upright but he stared at the marble counter as if he could somehow change the world with the sheer power of his mind.
On the other side of the counter, Scott stood as Kip moved around, quietly making tea. No one in the room actually liked or drank tea but it was giving the man something to do and it was quieter than if he pulled out the blender, so Scott didn’t say anything about it. Kip had also found some glasses and filled them with water for everyone.
“So….” Scott finally said. He was fighting the urge to toy with the glass of water Kip had placed before him. “Do you guys have a plan or…?”
He ignored the look Kip shot him, glancing at the two players before him.
In front of him, Shane shook his head but didn’t remove his face from Rozanov’s shirt sleeve. Ilya on the other hand, finally glanced up.
“We did but….not until retirement.” He muttered.
Scott nodded, his shoulders slumping. He knew that sort of plan. Hell, it had been his own plan until he had found the courage to decide otherwise. The plan to wait until he wasn’t important anymore. But that option was long gone now. None of them could get it back.
“Ok.” Scott muttered. “So let's talk this through. Firstly, has anyone from your teams contacted you? Any agents? Sponsors?”
“I spoke with Coach Wiebe.” Rozanov said. “He says the Centaurs management are in support. I have not looked at team group chat yet but Troy Barrett has tried to call several times. I should probably call him soon.”
Scott nodded. That was good. If the Centaurs were supportive, then Rozanov should be safe, or as safe as he could be, as a Russian citizen in a highly public queer relationship. The team seemed to be full of allies. And Troy was already out. He would probably have an idea of what Rozanov was going through. Scott was pleased the kid had turned over a new leaf since leaving his last team and had become a good friend to Ilya.
Scott glanced over at Shane.
“Radio silence from Montreal after I left practice today.” The man whispered, finally pulling his face away from Rozanov’s shoulder. “Apart from Hayden apologising over and over.”
Scott bit back the sigh at that.
“Ok.” He muttered again, more to re-assure himself than the men before him. “At least we have the Centaurs onboard. Montreal should follow soon.” He hoped he wasn’t going to be proven wrong about that.
“Mum is helping draw up a statement with our management team at the moment. That’s why she and dad aren’t here right now. She said no one will post anything without our approval but they will probably come here soon so we can look over it.” Shane added.
Scott nodded at that. He knew enough about Yuna Hollander to know the woman had balls of steel and would not be afraid to call people out. She wouldn’t be able to hold back the tide but she could definitely shame a few higher up people if needed. She would be doing what she can to meet this head on.
“Good.” He said. “She can keep the sponsors at bay for now. Most of them love rainbow capitalism anyway and shouldn’t have an issue. At least, not publicly. Anyone else?”
Shane sighed.
“I got an email an hour ago. Proposing a meeting with Crowell in a few days. For both of us.” He replied, glancing over at Rozanov.
Scott felt his stomach drop. He knew how bad this was.
Crowell was a complete asshole. They all knew that. The man had played nice enough in public when Scott had first come out, even if he couldn’t completely hide his homophobia but Scott remembered vividly, the one meeting he had been dragged into with the man after winning the Stanley Cup, when Crowell had pointedly suggested Scott not make his relationship any more public. The man had the gall to suggest Scott’s position in the running for the MVP would be at risk. Thankfully, the man couldn’t exactly strip Scott of the award he had rightfully earned, but he had definitely threatened it.
Scott would never admit it, but his dedicating the award to Kip had both been because it was true that his husband had inspired him and also an unsaid ‘Fuck you’ to Crowell.
The Commissioners rather pointed statement in reply to Adam Sheppard’s book and his public comments about Ryan Price’s retirement had said enough of his stance against queer players in the League and his public backing of Dallas Kent and threatening of Troy Barrett during the Toronto scandal had been enough for them all to know, the man was not happy to let anyone step outside his narrow view of Hockey. And he could make all their lives hard if they didn’t fall in line.
Scott wouldn’t be surprised if this meeting was going to turn into a thinly veiled threat against both Shane and Rozanov’s careers.
Scott desperately wanted to comfort the two. But there was nothing he could do or say to make the situation any better. They needed to know what the man had to say before they could think of any counters against it.
Finally, he let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
“I thought when I came out, that it would make a difference for other queer hockey players.” He muttered. “But sometimes, everything seems so broken and I don’t know if it can be fixed. But I still want to try.”
Kip grabbed his hand.
“We will just have to see how the dice fall before we can start fixing anything.” He muttered.
The silence filled the room again for a long time. Finally, Scott pulled himself out of his thoughts. He glanced out the window. Although Rozanov’s house was set a good distance from the road, the curve of the street meant he could see cars driving down the street in the distance. Scott had been keeping an eye on the traffic since he had arrived. Trying to see if any paps were going to drive up to harass the occupants.
“Do you think the media will come here?” He finally asked.
Rozanov shrugged.
“Probably. Is a nice neighbourhood and I am sure my neighbours will tell them to fuck off if they start harrassing anyone but…” He didn’t need to say anything else. Scott knew exactly what he meant. The media would come and they would not be quiet.
There was a loud thud as Shane’s head hit the kitchen counter. Scott saw Kip wince in sympathy at the action as Ilya reached over and placed a reassuring hand on Shane’s back.
“This is a fucking nightmare.” The man muttered.
All anyone could do was hum in agreement.
“Is there anywhere else you guys could go for a while? Just to avoid the media for a bit? That’s what we did.” Kip asked. He had finished making the tea and the mugs were sitting, steaming on the counter. Ignored by everyone.
Rozanov’s eyes suddenly turned hard.
“I am not running away.” He snarled and Scott noted, he grabbed Shane’s hand, as if he was looking for support.
“It’s not running away.” Kip snapped back. “It’s regrouping. It’s getting some quiet to figuring out your plan. Fuck, its giving ground to make a play. You guys are hockey players for fucks sake. You should know this.”
A stunned silence washed over the room. Beside Scott, Kip let out a long, frustrated sigh before running a hand over his face.
“I’m sorry.” He muttered. “It’s not my place. You guys know the hockey world better than me. I just hate this so much.”
Scott reached over and wrapped an arm around Kip’s shoulder, pulling their bodies together in a one-sided hug as Shane finally lifted his head from the cool counter. He glanced over at Rozanov.
“The cottage?” He asked in a small voice.
Rozanov glanced at him, eyebrows raised in question.
“It’s quiet and the address isn’t public.” Shane explained. “It might be a good place to go for a while.”
“I have game tonight.” Rozanov pointed out. He glanced up at a clock on the wall. “I should have left for the rink 20 minutes ago. That’s why I dropped Anya off at Doggie Hotel this morning before all this. So she can get used to it when I am not home.”
Scott wanted to ask who the fuck Anya was but bit his tongue. He had noticed a dog bed in the corner of the kitchen and was sure Kip would enlighten him soon.
“Montreal is in a bi week so I don’t play until next weekend.” Shane muttered. “But I still have training tomorrow. After today’s practice I….” His voice trailed off.
Scott glanced at Rozanov.
“I would guess that's why the media haven’t arrived here yet. They are probably all at the stadium, waiting for an ambush when you show up. You have an hour or so, if you are going to do anything, before they realise their mistake.”
“No.” Rozanov stated. “I should play.”
All three men glanced at him and Rozanov seemed to deflate a little.
“No one would blame you for calling in sick. Either of you. Hell, they probably expect it, given the circumstances.” Kip pointed out. Scott nodded in agreement.
“Zane Boodram’s your alternate Captain, right? He’s a good player. He can hold down the fort for you.” He said.
Rozanov glanced at him, as if to spit some venom his way but then he sighed and nodded. It wasn’t the time or place.
“Yes. He is.” He finally muttered.
“Come on.” Kip said, pulling away from Scott’s side. “I’ll help you pack a bag while you call someone on your team. Tell them you are still alive and won’t be in tonight. You two should hit the road before the media decide to come here.”
Rozanov glanced at Shane, almost looking helpless but his boyfriend was not in any state to be offering advice. Finally, Rozanov nodded and turned to walk to his bedroom, Kip following behind.
Scott had no doubts, the two would have a long and probably sad conversation while they were there.
Once his husband was out of sight, Scott finally turned to the remaining occupant of the room. Now Rozanov was out of sight, Shane somehow looked small.
He wasn’t the biggest guy Scott had ever met. Hell, Scott was almost a head taller than him. But Shane Hollander wasn’t small by any means of the word. And yet, sitting alone by the spotless kitchen counter, he suddenly looked tiny.
Resting his forearms on the cold counter, he stared at Shane.
“So, how bad is it really? With the Metros?” He asked.
Shane glanced up, a firm denial clearly ready to go but Scott was faster.
“Shane, I have eyes. And ears. I hear the slurs they throw at my back on the ice. My whole team does. I can’t imagine it’s any better in the locker rooms.”
Shane flushed red but Scott knew he was right.
“Its….not great. Since I came out to everyone. No one has been outright hostile but there are pointed comments. Hayden tries to shield me from them and J.J. always pulls everyone up when he hears it but they can only do so much. But after today’s practice when it all came out… It didn’t go well. Even J.J. couldn’t look at me.”
Scott nodded. He had suspected as much. If the Metros had the nerves to say things to Scott during a game, when they could potentially get in trouble for it, the locker rooms where the rules don’t apply would be far worse. And Shane, as great as he was at hockey, was very much a non-confrontational person. He suspected players like Drapeau and Comeau would walk all over Shane if they could get away with it and their Coach, Theriault, was a complete jackass, from what Murdock had told Scott. A dinosaur who should have been booted from the League long ago, if he didn’t have Shane’s three Stanley Cups to justify his place.
Scott didn’t want to give Hayden Pike the benefit of the doubt right now but at least Shane’s assisting Captain seemed to have his back, as long as this leak wasn’t intentional. Scott was still not going to trust the guy until he had further information.
And if J.J. Boiziau was going to be a problem, well, Scott had no issues with body checking him into the boards as hard as he could, the next time they played against each other.
“But they already know you are gay. Why would knowing you are dating someone make a real difference?” He asked, even though he could guess the answer. He just needed Shane to be thinking about it.
The Montreal locker rooms would not be a pleasant place at the best of times, for a queer player. And now they would all know Shane was dating Ilya Rozanov. An enemy player and one of the most hated men in Montreal.
The response, ‘Because it's Rozanov’ was unspoken between them.
Shane looked sick at the question.
“I don’t know. I guess it just gives them more reasons to hate me.” The younger player finally muttered.
Scott bit at his lip.
“Right. Well, there is not much we can do right now.” He said, partly to himself. “Not until you guys hear what Crowell has to say. It’s probably best if you guys turn off your phones for a while until the hype settles down.”
Shane just nodded. His eyes were focused on the floor, as if looking up would break him.
Scott ducked his chin, trying to catch the kids eyes. He knew Shane didn’t welcome eye contact but he needed to make sure the guy understood.
“I know you don’t want to hear this but if the Metros make problems for you about any of this, get out of there.” he said. “You are a great hockey player. One of the best. You don’t deserve any shit from anyone for being yourself and you are a free agent soon. You don’t have to be a martyr."
Shane finally glanced up. The look in his eyes was a mixture of anger and defeat.
“I want to stay with Montreal until my retirement. That was always the plan.” He said, a hint of stubbornness in his voice. And Scott got it. Loyalty was hard to break, even when it was doing harm.
Scott nodded, even as he wanted to snap back at that.
“Well, the option is always there. I dunno about other teams but if you do decide to leave, I know New York would be happy to have you.” He finally said. A peace offering.
Shane let out a small smile.
“Trying to recruit me?” He asked.
Scott gave a shrug, a small grin on his own face.
“Vaughny likes you. So does Tommy, Matti and everyone else. And me and Benny are always around too. Hell, we will even make room for Rozanov, if he promises not to start shit. But even if you decide to stay, the Admirals have your back. Both of you. You guys are always welcome in New York.”
He paused for dramatic effect.
“And frankly, the idea of a team having both you and Rozanov on it would be enough to make everyone else give up. No one else is winning the cup ever again.”
His joke must have landed flat. Shane’s smile had slipped from his face and he was staring at the kitchen counter again so Scott reached into his pocket for his phone. It had been buzzing almost consistently since he had arrived in Ottawa but he had pointedly ignored it for the most part. He could guess what was happening. But he still hoped for one particular message.
Opening up his messages, he thumbed through a few, ignoring everything until he found the one he wanted. Good old, predictable Carter Vaughn.
He opened the message, scanned it quickly before placing it down in front of Shane.
“In case you don’t believe me.” He said, displaying the text.
‘Hey Scott. Guessing you ditching us means you are with Holly and Roz now. Tell them the whole team are all thinking of them and we all wish them well.’
He saw Shane read it, the younger player suppressing a small smile. Good. Scott wanted to show Shane that there were more people in his corner than just Scott and Kip.
Placing his phone back in his pocket, Scott turned as he heard footsteps approaching, Kip and Ilya returning to the kitchen. Kip had a bag slung over his shoulder and Rozanov looked exhausted.
“So here’s the plan” Kip said, glancing at Shane as Ilya stepped around him to wrap the man in a hug. “You guys are going to head to Shane’s cottage for the night. Shane, Ilya already texted your parents and they will meet you guys there. Scott and I will fly back to New York tomorrow but before we do, I can go get Ilya’s dog from the sitter and take her to Shane’s parents house. Scott, can you call Todd and see if he would be happy to liaise with Shane and Ilya’s management team? I think after your coming out, he has experience which may help them. Like Scott said, we don’t have everything ready yet so best to wait to see what Crowell will say. Then we can respond properly.”
Scott nodded in agreement, remembering how he had thrown his agent into a loop when, after making a plan to come out publicly, he had impulsively kissed Kip. Still, he was impressed with his husband's planning.
“When did you get so good at managing Hockey players?” He finally asked Kip. Kip, despite himself, let out a small smile.
“When I decided to take on the responsibility of marriage to the Captain of the New York Admirals and somehow ended up with the entire team in my workplace half the week, acting like giant toddlers.” He replied.
Scott nodded. There was a loud scraping sound as Shane pushed his chair away from the counter, standing up.
“Right. We should go.” He said as Rozanov shifted his grip, not releasing him but allowing him to move. He glanced over at Kip and Scott.
“Thank you. For coming here. You guys didn’t have to, but it means a lot that you did.”
Scott nodded.
“Any time.” He said and found that he meant it.
The two couples headed out of the house and to their cars. Shane and Ilya would head out to their private retreat, Scott and Kip, back to the airport to find a hotel for the night.
None of them knew what the future would hold for any of them. They could only hope that whatever happened, they could all weather this storm and come out the other end.