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He was on his mom's couch, surrounded by his extended family, watching the Admirals celebrate their first cup win in a long damn time, when hockey changed forever.
Cliff respected Scott Hunter, always had. He was known for being a good captain, a hard worker, and an all around decent guy. Private, but not in the way that suggested he's gotten good at hiding the skeletons in his closet, just not comfortable inviting the world into his space. Rozy respected him too, for all he chirped at him. If Cliff had ended up with the Admirals instead of in his hometown, he'd have been disappointed knowing he'd probably never get the cup, but he'd have been proud to wear the same colors as a captain like Scott Hunter. The Admirals weren't even a bad team, so Cliff was happy for them.
And then he watched Scott Hunter wave someone down onto the ice and make history.
"Holy shit."
His brother was the only one who seemed to be able to find the words to react to what they were all seeing. Glancing around the room, Cliff felt the world slow down the way it did when he was on the ice, like he was watching for the next move, watching to see where he needed to be to make sure the puck made it into the net. He catalogued every expression, the shock, the disbelief, what looked a hell of a lot like outrage on his uncle. His cousin Jordan just looked shellshocked. Kid had idolized Hunter even more than he did Rozy, had been watching Admirals games religiously since he was eight and did his best even at fourteen to emulate Hunter on and off the ice. His mom, Cliff's aunt, had just been glad Jordan had picked a notoriously polite player to worship. He hoped that hadn't just changed.
Cliff Marleau was not the smartest man out there. It had been true before he'd had a couple of concussions to his name, and it was probably truer now. He was good with people, though, knew how they worked. Knew enough about them to know that this was huge, and it was bigger than just Scott Hunter.
His phone started buzzing, and he opened it without saying a word. The Raiders team chat had been pinging periodically through the game, but it had fallen mostly silent after the buzzer had signaled a win for the Admirals. At least until now.
Cliff frowned down at his phone, waiting for someone to speak, for anyone to offer an opinion on what they'd just seen.
Cliff drew in a breath, eyes flicking around the room again. Still, nobody said anything. Why was nobody saying anything? Jesus, who the fuck were they waiting for?
Taking a swig of his beer and leaning back into the couch cushions, Cliff made a decision. He opened his DMs, and then he opened his big mouth.
"Well, damn," he said, breaking the silence. "Nobody kissed me like that when I won the cup."
His sister laughed, half hysterical, and the tension seemed to drain out of the room all at once.
"Pssh, Rozanov won that cup, you just turned up," she said, the chirp as automatic as it had always been. "Put some work in and maybe somebody'll want to kiss you like that."
He laughed, the sound as easy as he could make it, even knowing that at that same moment, there were almost certainly people doing their level best to make sure Hunter never stepped on the ice again. He wasn't smart, but he wasn't stupid either. The league was... still pretty much stuck in the dark ages when it came to this kind of thing. Sure, they said all the right things about equality and shook the right hands to look good on twitter, but the jokes had never lost their sharp edge, the slurs still got dropped in locker rooms and on the ice.
Hell, the Raiders were, for the most part, a good team, and most of them were good guys, but a lot of them still said shit that wouldn't fly in front of the press, still made jokes that they maybe didn't even think about. Cliff had been the same, for a while. Really, it had taken an embarrassingly long time for him to sit down and think about the shit he said. Had taken a girlfriend being visibly disgusted, hurt by what came out of his mouth before he'd realized he was capable of hurting someone with what he'd always taken as harmless chirping. He was still grateful, three years after their relationship ending, that Jess hadn't left him then and there, she'd given him a chance to fix his shit and do better, and he had. Instead, what had killed their relationship was Jess feeling like she was in a long distance relationship with someone she shared a home with, and Cliff couldn't even blame her. She'd let him down a lot easier than anyone else he'd been with that long, at least.
He glanced down at his phone, spotting the tiny "read" notification beside his messages to Rozy, and switched back over to the team chat.
It was the closest any of them had come to actually saying anything, but still, nobody had dared take the plunge and offer an opinion. It was a little cowardly. Cliff wasn't gonna exclude himself from that either. They all wanted to know what their captain would say so they could fall in line.
Cliff watched the screen, the little bubble telling them all that Rozy was typing. It was taking a while, but Cliff wasn't worried. Rozy was a lot of things, but he'd never been one for dropping slurs, and he had never made the same homophobic jokes other players were prone to.
Almost before Cliff could even finish reading, there was a flurry of reactions to the message, a bunch of guys giving it a thumbs up. Cliff added his own, watching as Rozy kept typing. The message was clearly drafted with great care, the English impeccable to ensure he could not be misunderstood.
The messages neatly sidestepped any kind of implication of how Rozanov felt about it personally, but Cliff had an inkling that he could guess where Rozy stood on the matter. He was pretty good with people, after all, and he had eyes. He'd spotted Rozy flirting with bartenders and baristas enough to know that it wasn't just women who could catch his eye, and either his girl in Montreal had the patience of a fucking saint, or there was a damn good reason she'd never been introduced to the team. Sure, Rozy talked a big game about things with Jane being casual, but that hadn't kept him from bringing Svetlana along to events and team get togethers. Cliff was willing to put money on Jane being someone Rozy wasn't comfortable introducing to the team.
Cliff made a mental note to keep an eye on Davis in the coming days and weeks. He didn't think it was going to be a problem, likely more shock than disgust, but if Davis decided that getting drunk and slinging insults online sounded like a fun time during the off season, Rozanov was going to be stuck in Russia and wouldn't be able to deal with it. Better for Cliff to try to keep that from happening in the first place.
He flicked back to his messages with Rozy, debating what he should say, when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Jordan slinked out of the room like he was trying not to get caught, and Cliff recognized the look on his face. It was the same one he'd seen in the mirror when Jess had told him to quit being an asshole.
Standing, he gathered up a couple of the empty beers to give himself an excuse to head through to the kitchen, and then slipped out the back to join Jordan on the deck.
"The Admirals played a hell of a game tonight," he commented, keeping his tone light.
Jordan jumped, clearly too lost in thought to have noticed Cliff's arrival. "Y-yeah. It was pretty great," he stammered, shoulders up around his ears.
Cliff leaned against the railing, fixing his eyes on a smudge on the kitchen window rather than watching Jordan.
"And Hunter kissing his... boyfriend? I guess? That was pretty ballsy of him," Cliff continued. "Takes guts to stand up like that."
Jordan bobbed his head in something approaching a nod, but said nothing. Cliff didn't think the kid was feeling quite the same way about it as Rozy probably was, but something about it clearly had him unsettled.
"Good for him, you know? It's gotta suck trying to keep that kinda secret." He glanced toward Jordan again, noting how the kid was very carefully trying to watch him out of the corner of his eye. "Can't say I'm not disappointed it wasn't me lifting the cup this year, but I'm happy for him."
Jordan nodded again, then took in a breath like he was about to say something, looked up at Cliff for a half a second, and then closed his mouth again, looking away. Cliff let him. Poking at it would just make him clam up, but there was obviously something he wanted to say.
Inside, he could hear people talking, cleaning up and grabbing more food. His sister caught his eye through the kitchen window, but he waved her off. The last thing Jordan likely wanted right now was an audience, and Cliff was pretty certain he could handle this himself.
"I think..." Jordan started, chewing on his lip. "I think I maybe fucked up."
The kid was usually pretty confident, and Cliff didn't like how hesitant he was, but at least he was talking. He was probably meant to tell him not to curse, but it'd be awfully hypocritical of him, and Cliff didn't think it would help much in that moment.
"There's. Shit. There's this guy on my team that's, like... y'know," he trailed off, making a face like he'd just realized he didn't know how to say it. "Hes kinda... Everybody thinks he's..." he lowered his voice to a whisper, clearly both uncomfortable and afraid of being overheard. "Gay."
Cliff just nodded, letting him speak instead of asking how any of them could possibly know that without the other kid telling them. He'd been a teenager once, he knew how painfully unobservant and self involved they could be. But then, he remembered just as much how anything besides perfectly stoic masculinity was labeled "gay". His rookie year he'd been laughed at for sending his mom flowers for her birthday.
"I don't think... I don't think any of us have been all that nice to him," Jordan confessed. "We've said some pretty shitty things. I called him... I don't... That was really mean of me. I shouldn't have called him that."
Jesus, okay. So his kid cousin was already throwing slurs around. That was pretty bad. Said a lot about how little had changed in hockey spaces since Cliff was that age.
"Yeah, that's pretty fucked up, kid," he said, not willing to sugarcoat it. "I agree that you definitely fucked up, and that was really shitty for you to do to him. But you know it was wrong, and that's something," he allowed. "There's other kids out there that wouldn't think twice about it. So. What are you planning on doing about it?"
Jordan blinked at him, his eyes big and wet like a sad puppy.
"C'mon, kid, work with me here. You know you fucked up, so how are you gonna fix it?"
That seemed to get through to him, and Cliff watched him turn it over in his head for a minute. The hardest part was admitting that he'd fucked up, but the second hardest was owning up to it for real.
"I gotta apologize, right?" Jordan said, looking haunted at the realization. "I should... um. I should send him a message or something."
Cliff nodded, feeling positively ancient at being the one to give sage life advice. "Yup. You're gonna have to bite the bullet, kid. Apologize, and quit being a dick to him. In fact, you should quit being a dick in general," he added, grinning. "And if this kid doesn't want to hear it, you're gonna have to just suck it up and accept that. You know that, right? Doesn't matter how sincere and sorry you are, he has every right to hold it against you."
Jordan started chewing on his lip again, but he nodded. It was enough for Cliff.
"Good. Whether he forgives you or not, though, you really gotta do better." He wasn't about to let the kid think that part was optional. "God, Jordan, I know you can be better than that. And I know you already feel like an ass about it, but I'm really disappointed in you."
Jordan flushed red with shame, his shoulders creeping back up around his ears as he began to tug his sleeves down over his hands. "'M sorry, Cliff," he mumbled, eyes fixed on the wood of the decking. "I just... everybody else was saying it, and I didn't think... I didn't want them to think I was... y'know."
Cliff just sighed. Jordan wasn't the only one he was disappointed in. He was pretty disappointed in himself too, if he was being totally honest. He'd left it to Roz to make the first move in the group chat instead of stepping up himself, and he was pretty sure that made him a shitty teammate and a worse friend.
"You wanted to be captain of your team next year, yeah?" he asked, rather than dwell on it too long. He could work on his own shit once he helped Jordan figure his shit out. "You think Rozy or Hunter talk shit about people just 'cause everyone else is? You think Hollander talks like that? You're being a follower, kid, and I know you can be a leader. You just gotta quit letting the people around you dictate how you act. You've got a spine, Jordan. Use it. And if your friends are so awful that you can't even call them out, you need to find new friends, or these ones are just gonna drag you down with them."
He felt a little bad, watching Jordan start to tear up, but he didn't know any gentler way of getting through to him.
"Look, kid, I don't wanna see you turn into asshole," Cliff said softly. "But that means you've gotta put some effort into being a good person. It's really easy to be an asshole by just going along with what everyone else is doing. But you'd be surprised how many people would be on your side if you stood up and said that that shit isn't okay."
He'd certainly been surprised by it today. He hadn't expected Marković to be one of the first to praise Hunter, after all.
Jordan nodded again, and Cliff reached out and clasped his shoulder. "You're a good kid, Jordan. It's time to start acting like it."
And maybe Cliff would try to do the same. He'd left Roz to police the worst of the homophobic locker room shit by himself for too long, and now... Jesus, Ilya was his best friend, and Cliff didn't even know if Ilya knew he was safe to come out to. If his suspicions about Jane were right, then had he ever actually done anything to make Roz think he could talk to him about it? Or did his best friend think that he was just quieter about his bigotry than the rest of them?
He left Jordan to mull over how best to start making amends and headed back inside, pulling his phone out again.
Cliff laughed, shaking his head. Of course Ilya couldn't resist chirping Hunter even now. Anybody else probably thought Rozy hated Hunter, but Cliff knew better; Ilya had a deep respect for Hunter's work ethic and tenacity, even if he refused to show it.
He felt lighter, knowing that Roz trusted he was serious about taking out anybody giving Hunter shit. Maybe he hadn't fucked up as bad as he thought. Maybe Ilya did trust him, and just wasn't ready to come out to him yet. Or maybe his suspicions about Jane were way off base and Rozy just didn't want to introduce her to the team for some reason.
Whatever the case, Cliff was gonna do better about keeping the rest of the team in line. It would be pretty hypocritical of him to give Jordan that big speech about being a leader and then not doing the work himself. Besides, he wanted to meet Jane someday and find out just who it was that Rozy had been chasing all this time.