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“So upstairs for poker night?”
“You remembered the chips this time right?”
“Um duh.” Carter rolled his eyes as if he hadn’t forgotten the chips the last three times he promised to bring them. “I just gotta run to my room first and get them.”
“I’m gonna take a leak then head up.” Eric announced.
Scott waved them both away. “I’ll settle our tab then meet you guys at the room.”
He made his way to the bar, happy and warm, just the right amount of buzzed to feel loose and pleasant.
It was instantly ruined when a voice beside him sneered, “On your way upstairs for a gang bang with your boyfriends?”
In his happy daze, Scott hadn’t noticed Dallas Kent and Troy Barrett walk up.
“Fuck off Kent.” Scott wasn’t in the mood for a fight, especially not when it was two against one. Barrett never picked them himself, but he always backed Kent, who had been throwing homophobic remarks at Scott every chance he got ever since he came out.
“I don’t want to hear anything about fucking from you, fa-”
“Don’t worry, Hunter!” A familiar voice piped up further down the bar. “He is just jealous that you have excuse and he does not.”
Kent turned, revealing Ilya Rozanov’s bright-eyed grin, the one that usually led to dropped gloves and trouble on the ice.
“An excuse for what?” Kent spat.
“For having never satisfied a woman.”
Scott snorted, which only served as fuel for the fire Rozanov was stoking.
Kent’s chest puffed out. “I pull plenty of chicks, I’ll have you know.”
Rozanov shrugged, unimpressed. “Yes, yes, I see you with many women. But never same woman twice huh? They get one taste of you and do not want to come back for seconds.”
“Little shit.” Kent loomed over him, face twisted in fury for a moment, then stretched into a sadistic smile. “Aren’t you worried about getting caught defending homos? Won’t they send you to the gulag?”
Rozanov’s face fell into a solemn expression as Scott’s stomach dropped as well. He opened his mouth to defend the Russian, but Rozanov beat him to it.
“Yes. Is very serious. Do you know how they torture people in gulag?” He asked Kent, who seemed too confident he had broken the man to respond. “They put up pictures of your face everywhere. Is terrible, no?”
Scott saw Kent’s arm move as if in slow motion and reached up, about to grab it before his fist could slam into Rozanov’s face.
“Hey.” The bartender slammed a hand on the counter between them, making all four men jump. “Not here.” He pointed to the exit.
Kent held his hand up another moment, contemplating whether it was worth getting thrown out, until Barrett quietly spoke up.
“Dallas.” He flinched when Kent glared at him but kept his voice steady. “Come on, he’s not worth it, man.”
Kent threw a nasty glance at each Rozanov and Scott. “Filthy cocksuckers.” He spat as he stalked away.
Barrett hesitated for only the briefest of moments, opening and closing his mouth as though unsure of what to say.
“Just go.” Rozanov spoke first and Barrett's gaze hardened back into something more similar to Kent’s and he left without another word.
Scott wanted to smack Rozanov upside the head, as the guy clearly had been trying to not be a dick for once, but figured he shouldn’t be too hard on the person who had intervened on his behalf.
“Thanks for that.”
Rozanov waved a dismissive hand. “Is important to protect the elderly, yes?”
Scott rolled his eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend sometimes, you know that?”
“And yet you love me.” Rozanov shot him a cheeky grin.
“I do not.”
Rozanov’s phone buzzed on the counter and his face lit up at the name that appeared on the screen.
“So sorry I have to go talk to someone more interesting now!” He leapt out of his seat. “But give Kip a kiss for me!” He pointed to his cheek, indicating he meant it more innocently but all the same.
“I will do no such thing.” Scott objected, but Rozanov was all but skipping away already, ignoring his protests.