Chapter Text
“Do you need to put anything else in my suitcase?”
“I'm not going to Russia.” Ilya said blankly.
“...what?”
“I'm not going to Russia. I changed my mind, okay? I'm staying home.”
Svetlana could tell Ilya really wanted this bomb of an announcement to be swept under the rug. She stared at him in awe as he was very clearly trying to avoid eye contact while pretending to watch TV.
She glanced towards the TV where Scott Hunter was supposed to be interviewed about his Stanley Cup win, but was instead bombarded with questions about his very recently made public boyfriend.
Then she smiled as it clicked. “So, when do I get to meet him?”
“What do you mean?” Ilya grumbled.
“Oh come on, Ilya. You expect me to believe you just happened to decide to upend your whole summer by cancelling your trip to Russia — which is not refundable by the way — just as one of the best hockey players in the league announced his boyfriend on national TV?”
“He was maybe one of the best 30 years ago…”
“Ilya!”
“What? He's old.”
“Ilya.”
“I just don't want to go!” Ilya snapped, whipping his head around to glare at Svetlana. “There is nothing for me there.”
“Okay, I get that.” And she did, but… “So, who were you talking to on the phone earlier?”
Ilya sighed and turned back away.
“Okay, fine, I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it. Just know I'm here — and very curious — if you want to.”
After a long silence Ilya sighed once more and mumbled “I don't know if it's a thing, okay? It's not like I'm going to be kissing anybody on TV. He invited me to his cottage for two weeks and I'm going, that's all. Might be terrible.”
“Ilya, how many years has it been? You still don't know if it's a thing?”
“Eight, and it's complicated.”
“I get it, he's a man, you're Russian. But like— sorry, eight years? Really?”
“It's not just that, it's… it's who he is.”
“I mean for eight years worth of complicated he has to be like… Shane Hollander or something," Svetlana snorted.
Ilya suddenly acted very interested in the commercials that were playing.
Svetlana froze, “wait… Shane Hollander has a cottage. It was on TV.”
“Does he?” Ilya asked, seemingly trying very hard to stifle a smile.
Svetlana gasped, “oh my god, Ilya! No fucking way? There is actually no way!”
And then something else clicked, “it's Jane fucking Hollander!” She started jumping up and down on the couch. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god!"
“Okay, okay, calm down! If you break my couch you pay for a new one” Ilya complained as he was involuntarily also bumping up and down.
Svetlana shoved him as she exclaimed “you said you were so bored you almost fell into a coma but you were just checking him out, weren't you?”
“No no, it is true, he is very boring.”
“But also very fucking hot!”
“...yes.”
“Tell me everything!”
“No.”
“Fine, tell me something. How did you meet?”
“Hockey.”
“Come on!” Svetlana groaned and shoved him again. “How did you, like… get together?”
“I checked him out, he checked me out, I jerked off in the locker room shower and then we hooked up, that's it.”
“You hooked up in the shower?”
“No, he was a chicken. In his hotel room.”
“And then what?”
“I left.”
“Oh my god, I hate you. How did it, you know, continue?”
“We kept hooking up.”
Svetlana sighed and rolled her eyes.
Ilya shrugged, “what do you want from me? It's true, whenever we played each other we'd meet and hook up, there is nothing else to tell!”
“So when did you realize you were in love with him?” Svetlana asked bluntly.
Ilya glared at her.
Svetlana shrugged, “because you are in love with him, yes?”
Ilya rolled his eyes and turned back to the TV. “Probably when it stopped being fun.”
“When it stopped being fun?” Svetlana asked skeptically.
“Yes. Love is shit, total buzzkill, would not recommend.”
Svetlana narrowed her eyes and asked “are you sure you know what love is?”
“I don't know…" Ilya mumbled, "maybe when his stupid boring jokes make you smile like an idiot, or whenever your phone buzzes you hope it's him even though he really sucks at sexting, or when you can't look into his big stupid eyes without wanting to kiss him and never stop, or when it actually physically hurts whenever he leaves. When he is all you ever think about, even when you really fucking try not to.”
“...okay, sorry, maybe you do. Wow.”
Ilya was still staring into the TV, clearly trying hard to look and sound unbothered. But Svetlana noticed his eyes had turned glassy.
She grabbed his hand and said “I am really happy for you, Ilya.”
“Why?” Ilya scoffed. “I told you, it sucks.”
Svetlana peered at him. “Maybe it will stop sucking if you stop giving a shit what anybody else would think and just give it a proper chance?”
“I'm going to his dumb cottage, aren't I?” Ilya grumbled.
“Oh yes, you are!” Svetlana cheered as she shook Ilya by the arm, which made it hard for him not to grin.
“So, you need help unpacking? Or repacking I should say. What does one need to bring to Ottawa?”
“Bear spray probably…"