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They're all at the Kingfisher: Shane and Ilya and Troy and Harris and Luca and Wyatt and Scott and Kip and Eric and Kyle. It's funny, in a way. For so long, they all avoided each other, or at least, they wouldn't have done this. But now here they are. All the gays and Wyatt at one big table. Or all the queers, Ilya corrects himself in his mind. He isn't going to erase himself or Eric from the conversation. He's sure Eric is just as tired of the assumptions from all sides. To like both is actually very sexy and fun. At least it is when Ilya does it. Eric seems sort of sexy but mostly boring, even more than Shane.
It's a nice night, a really nice night. The Centaurs beat the Admirals. Scott and Eric aren't exactly happy, but Eric doesn't have the same stake in it as before and also their boyfriends are here, so Ilya can chirp all he wants and Scott will just grit his teeth and Eric will add another slice of cucumber to his soda water or whatever. Even Shane is feeling so good that he's talking a little trash. It's very cute. Ilya wants to kiss the freckles off his face. And he could, because this bar is safe, and that's so fucking nice. He sits back in his chair and puts his arm across the back of Shane's chair and Shane makes that face where his eyes sparkle and Ilya is feeling great, actually.
Ilya is thinking of asking Scott and Eric if they would want to expand to Ottawa. Kingfisher International, or maybe it should be The Loon. Maybe he and Shane are still a few years from retirement, but if Shane can think of the future, so can he. A gay bar focused on sports sounds like fun. At least, it would be fun to own as long as someone else ran it. Ilya can just imagine Shane getting too deep into the logistics of cocktail napkins and glassware and those fancy cherries. Better if they have a manager for that.
Multiple phones ding at the table. Harris and Kip and Kyle all thumb their screens. Harris smothers a laugh. Kyle rolls his eyes. Kip is grinning.
Hmm. Suspicious.
The phones ding again, just those three. This time Kip laughs out loud.
"What is funny?" Ilya asks, eating a spiced nut out of the dish the server brings them. They're tasty and a little hot, perfect with beer.
"Nothing," Kyle says.
Ding.
"I mean," Kip says to Kyle, "he's not wrong."
Kyle tosses his head. "He's not right either."
"So they have a secret group chat," Ilya says to Scott. "Not so secret now."
"Um, we need one," Kip says. "It's more of a support group."
"It was Harris' idea," Kyle says. "Give him a raise, by the way."
"I am not in charge of communications salaries," Ilya says.
"It's true," Harris says. "I did start a secret group chat. It's PHaB."
"Fab?" Shane says. "Like fabulous? That makes sense."
"PHaB," Harris says patiently. "Pee Aitch Aye Bee. Partners, Husbands, and Boyfriends."
"Kyle keeps changing it to 'Puck Buddies'," Kip informs them.
"Fabian started it," Kyle objects.
"It's for partners, husbands, and boyfriends of hockey players," Kip explains. "In case that wasn't clear."
"No, I think we got it," Shane says.
"I'm surprised you didn't know about it," Eric says.
"Nobody invited us," Ilya says. He eats another nut.
"Well, you're both hockey players," Harris says. "And sometimes we, as partners, husbands, and boyfriends of hockey players need a space that...doesn't have hockey players in it."
"Is Ryan in it?" Shane demands.
Kyle scoffs. "No. He's a hockey player."
"But he retired," Ilya points out. "So did Eric. So should Scott."
"Watch it," Scott says, but it sounds comfortable, like when Shane calls Ilya an asshole.
"Yeah, but you all have a certain, ah, shared perspective," Kip says.
"That's such a diplomatic way of putting it," Kyle tells him approvingly.
Kip looks much too pleased with himself. "Thank you."
Ding.
"Fab says he wishes they were here and blows you all kisses," Harris reads.
"Even the hockey players?" Ilya asks. He thinks Shane is blushing just a very little bit. He's even more cute than normal.
Kyle snorts. "He says he only really likes kissing one hockey player, but you can have a kiss anyway."
"Tell him thank you," Ilya says in the most serious voice he can muster after half a pitcher of beer and a big fucking win.
"Put the phones away," Eric says, wrapping his arms around Kyle. "Live in the moment."
"You're not my dad," Kyle teases.
Eric raises an eyebrow. Kyle's mouth does something very funny. He sets his phone down on the table. "Okay, fine."
The west coast game is on all the big tvs in the bar. Shane turns to Ilya and smiles so sweetly that Ilya can't help leaning over and kissing him. Shane's mouth tastes like spicy and beer and it's so fucking nice just to do this. Such simple pleasures, Ilya thinks. He thought he would need more from life. Okay, maybe it's not so simple to be one of the best hockey players in the world, but still: some beer, his man, his friends. Not so complicated, happiness.
"Hey," Shane says softly. His hand moves a little, making Y and T and L. Ya tebya lyublyu, turned into sign language. Ilya makes it back. It's nice to have this quiet way to say things in loud places. Even if they just make the Y, they understand, and that looks like the surfer hand. Ilya hasn't seen anyone figure it out yet. He likes to have a few secrets still.
They order a pizza and watch San Francisco make Chicago look like they only put on skates yesterday for the first time and Ilya watches all his friends laugh and something inside of him that he didn't know was tight relaxes. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, softly.
"Here," Luca says, pushing something down the table. It's a piece of paper. Ilya reaches for it to keep it out of the spilled beer and the pizza grease, and Harris picks it up and hands it to him. It's a sketch of Ilya and Shane, heads close together. Shane's hand is making the T. Luca put in Shane's freckles, which is the most important part.
"It's perfect," Ilya says. "I'm going to put it on the wall. But first I'm going to send it to Shane's parents." He snaps a photo of it.
"You're really talented," Shane tells Luca, and Luca turns pink. Ilya smiles to himself. Poor kid. He meets his idols and they're so handsome and good at hockey and then they're also nice to him? How terrible. But Luca's young, maybe younger than Ilya ever was. And he's here, finding himself already, making a life that holds the game but stretches beyond it.
Ilya thinks that the future will be good to Luca. To all of them. He raises his glass in a silent toast and drinks deep.