Chapter Text
Scott is staring blankly at the ceiling of his hotel room.
He is trying his best to block out the sounds coming from next door, but from the moment he realized what exactly he was hearing his brain has refused to focus on anything else. If anything his brain seems rather fixated on it, embarrassingly enough.
Do those two idiots really think that hotel room walls are thick enough to block sound, even in a hotel as expensive as this one? And why is Scott the one who has to suffer for it?
Sure, it might have been unlucky timing that Scott had just been on his way to his room’s ensuite, bringing him close to the door leading to the hallway where sound insulation is even worse, just when Hollander knocked on Rozanov’s doo. Same thing for the way Scott’s brain had immediately latched on to what was being said at hearing his own name mentioned, never mind that it was Hollander apparently scolding Rozanov.
Ever since he heard Shane Hollander’s voice from next door – a room Hollander decidedly has no business being in – Scott’s brain has refused to filter any of the sounds coming through the wall. Which leaves him staring at his own ceiling, trying desperately not to listen or to at least think of something else to distract himself. Unsuccessfully so.
And may he just ask, why are those two idiots having a full-on conversation about sex, their preferences, and their personal experience without lowering their voices at all and with no apparent thought to being overheard? Did Scott want to know about Hollander’s dildo or that he is apparently a virgin, much less that he is planning to give that up to Rozanov of all people?
No, Scott most emphatically did not want to know any of that.
Maybe he should switch on the TV after all, turn it up high enough to block out the sounds… But it’s likely that the sounds from the TV would then spill through the wall in turn and then Hollander and Rozanov are going to realize just how thin these walls really are and as much as Scott wants them to stop, he also has absolutely no interest in them realizing that he might have heard anything.
It’s not like he of all people is going to out the two of them but, Jesus Christ, have they never heard of discretion? He would have expected better of Hollander at least.
He is also absolutely not addressing the rather intense blush on his own cheeks or whether it might have anything to do with overhearing himself discussed as a potential candidate for a threesome by someone Scott doesn’t necessarily like on a personal level but who even he can admit is objectively good looking. So what if he maybe finds it a little flattering. So what if knowing that there are other players like him is maybe a little reassuring.
It’s also that thought, the thought that Hollander and Rozanov are like him, the unexpected companionship, the thought of how he himself can barely think beyond the terror of someone potentially realizing his sexuality and outing him at any point, that has Scott stay quietly on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus his attention on mentally running through his team’s playbook for the next season, instead of doing anything that might clue in the two idiots next door to their very-much-unwilling audience or Scott’s utter relief at hearing Hollander’s refusal to let Rozanov fuck him tonight.
Is it also maybe a little reassuring that, for all his manwhore ways, Rozanov is clearly respectful of any boundaries Hollander is setting? Sure. Also, kudos to Hollander for how desperate he clearly has Rozanov to fuck him.
Still, even only having learned of Hollander’s sexuality a little while ago, Scott would have expected him to have better taste in men.
Then again, after Hollander’s ridiculous, record-breaking performance on the ice today, maybe he’s due some sort of flaw. There is no accounting for taste, after all.