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Kip’s phone has been buzzing all night - he’s been texting Maria about the trashy reality dating show that they’re half watching, half roasting - but he sees a notification pop up that says ‘Ilya Rozanov,’ and he pokes it immediately before he can remember to be cool and let the text simmer so as not to let Ilya know that he’s glued to his phone. But that’s because the text says: “We need to assemble the gay Avengers. Can you call?”
It’s not weird that Ilya is texting him, exactly. They’ve had each others’ numbers since that night a couple years before, when Ilya came out to the Kingfisher. He mostly texts Kip about Celebrity Chef and digs about Scott’s age, though. This is an unusual request, especially that Ilya wants to talk. Is this a top secret thing? Lord knows, Kip could use some excitement.
Scott is engrossed in his book - some dad novel that Ilya would 100% make fun of if he could see it - so Kip gets up and murmurs that he’ll be right back. He doesn’t want to bother Scott with the details in case Ilya is just drunk and wants to bother someone and Kip is the first idiot to respond. Once he’s in the bedroom, he shuts the door and presses the call button.
“Grady, thank fuck you were around. This is not a drill. I need the second-gayest person I know to help me,” Ilya says, forgoing a greeting.
“Second-gayest? Is Scott the first?” Kip asks, ready to protest that designation.
Ilya huffs. “Of course not. He is like, maybe six. Number one is the reason I need you, but we will get to that. We play you next week, yes?”
“Sure, okay,” Kip says, as if he knows the hockey schedule. He is dimly aware that Ottawa was going to show up in New York sometime soon, though, because Scott had made a very grudging comment about supposing that he should invite Ilya to the Kingfisher after, but he’d seemed highly unenthused and uninterested in making an actual plan, so Kip hadn’t pursued it.
“And I need you to assemble the Gay Avengers.”
“Yes, you mentioned that, but you say it like I’m supposed to know what that means,” Kip argues.
“Gay things are happening!” Ilya says, urgently. “We need a meeting. Someplace very private. The Kingfisher is too public. Get Scott to host us at his fancy loft. Will not be a large group. Ten? Maybe twelve?”
“You know that many gay people?” Kip asks, mystified. He knows, from things that Scott has told him and just from having gaydar in general, that Ilya isn’t straight, but the idea of him having a gay posse a dozen people deep is not exactly what he’d been picturing for Ilya’s personal life.
“No, most of them are not gay. Most of them are hockey players, so they are not the best at being…” Ilya pauses like he’s searching his English vocabulary for the right word. “Subtle. So we need private space for what I’m thinking. There may be shouting. Hunter might have to turn down his hearing aids.”
Kip snorts, but he lets the remark pass because he is already deeply invested in needing to know every single detail of whatever Ilya is planning. “Okay, you know if you want me to do this for you, especially whatever I’m going to have to do to Scott to get him to agree, you have to tell me everything, like, now, right?”
Ilya sighs. “I know I owe you many explanations, but I don’t have time at this moment. I will give you… nutshell? Okay?”
“Yes, fine,” Kip agrees.
“Okay, you already know I am bisexual, yes?”
Kip hadn’t been positive that was the correct label, but he still says, “Yes, of course.”
“Well, I have a boyfriend. Actually, that is not right. I have a fiance,” Ilya says, and Kip can hear the smile in his voice, even as Kip’s brain is actively short-circuiting.
“I think this might be a bad connection. I think you just said to me that you’re marrying a man. A secret man that I don’t know about and that you’re going to marry. Is that what you just said to me?”
Ilya laughs a little. “Yes, this is what I just said to you. I wish I had time to explain more, but the team is flying out soon, and anyway, now that I am getting married to him, I can’t keep it so secret. It has been going on for many years, but a secret boyfriend is different from a secret husband. So I need to begin telling the important people, starting with my team. At least the ones I am friends with that I can trust.”
“Okay, I get that, but respectfully, why is this a Gay Avengers situation? Are your teammates going to be upset? Are they homophobic?” Kip is not going to sign up to host a coming-out party that’s likely to go sideways.
“No, of course not, but… There is more to it. They are going to be surprised and maybe, possibly, not very happy about who he is. It is not like Scott, marrying a nice college boy who doesn’t play hockey.”
Kip sits down hard on the edge of the bed. “He’s another player? Like a current player?”
“You see why this is Gay Avengers situation now?” Ilya asks wryly.
“Yeah, for sure. Are you going to tell me who it is?” Kip asks, already running through his mental list of every professional hockey player that’s ever pinged his gaydar.
“No, I have to go. I am already so late. But ask Captain America. I think he might have an idea. I will see you soon, Kip Grady. And try to get Hunter to spring for drinks or something. I have a feeling everyone will need them.”
With that, Ilya disconnects the call, leaving Kip staring at his phone, mulling over what Ilya has just told him. International Playboy Ilya Rozanov is getting married to another hockey player. The world is absolutely not ready for this. Kip himself probably isn’t ready for this. It might take some heat off himself and Scott, in theory, but more likely, it’s going to thrust them back in the spotlight as every media outlet in the land is going to want opinions, statements, reactions. Kip sighs and goes back into the living room to find Scott.
Scott looks up and smiles when Kip returns. “Your dad?” he asks, assuming the reason for the phone call.
“Not even close, and you’ll never guess if I give you a million guesses.” He pauses for dramatic effect but stops short of actually making Scott guess. “Ilya Rozanov.”
Scott’s brown furrows and he tucks his bookmark into the book and closes the cover, clearly accepting that this is going to be a longer conversation. “Since when do you talk to Rozanov?”
“Since today,” Kip says with a shrug. “We text sometimes, but not much, and he’s certainly never come to me for help before.”
“What could he possibly need your help with?” Scott asks, clearly deeply suspicious.
“He wanted me to, as he put it, assemble the Gay Avengers. Next week, after your game. He wants to bring some of his teammates here for a little coming-out party,” Kip tells him, deliberately skipping the most exciting part so that he can gauge Scott’s willingness to agree.
“He wants to come out to his team and he wants us to host a party for him?” Scott looks aggrieved, almost like he’s not even surprised that Rosanov would suggest such a thing, just disappointed that it’s happening.
“They need a private space, because the reason he’s coming out is that he’s not just going to tell them he’s bi. He’s going to tell them he’s getting married. To another hockey player.”
“Oh Jesus Christ,” Scott says, putting his head in his hands. “I’ve been dreading this day forever. This is my nine-eleven.”
“Scott!” Kip admonishes. “You’re a New Yorker!”
“No, you have no idea what’s about to happen, Kip. You have no fucking idea.” Scott looks like he might actually vomit and Kip feels a little tingle of dread.
“Why?” Kip asks, putting a comforting hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Who the hell is he marrying?”
Scott whimpers a little and lifts his head from his hands. “If I’m right - and I’m pretty sure I’m right - you’re about to see a shitstorm of absolutely epic proportions and I want literally nothing to do with it, especially not in my living room.”
“Tell me who it is,” Kip wheedles, now determined to be fully involved and all in, because if this is gay history in the making, he wants a front-row seat.
Scott huffs out a big breath, clearly considering. “I don’t want to say in case I’m not right. I mean, I think I am, but…”
“Well, if you’re not going to tell me, the least you can do is let me host them here, so I can find out for myself with the rest of the inner circle.” He bites back his smile because he knows Scott can’t argue with him. Kip has him over a barrel.
Scott is quiet for an uncomfortably long period of time, but Kip waits patiently for the acquiescence that he knows is coming. “Fine,” Scott says, blowing out a huge breath. “But I’m going to need you to hide everything breakable or that can possibly be used as a projectile. And I’m absolutely not joking about that.”
***
Kip and Ilya text pretty regularly over the next week, planning all the details, but Ilya is maddeningly closed-mouthed about everything even remotely juicy. It’s frustrating, but at least it’s not long to wait. The day of the party, Kip skips the game in favor of staying home and arranging everything. Scott’s apartment isn’t huge, so in order to make space for a final headcount of ten mostly giant men, Kip has had to do some careful furniture arrangement and drag in all their spare chairs. He’s assembled a bar on the kitchen island, stocked the fridge with mixers and beer, and ordered in an assortment of appetizers and finger-foods from one of his favorite local restaurants, because he figures people are less likely to shout if their mouths are full.
Scott arrives first, having clearly rushed from the arena to beat their guests. He’s still in his suit and he looks… resigned. Like a man who knows his spaceship is out of oxygen and the inevitable is going to happen and he’s got no choice but to make peace with his fate. He kisses Kip heartily, and Kip follows him into the bedroom to watch him get changed like a creeper.
“How do you think this is going to go?” Kip asks, tracing his eyes over Scott’s naked torso.
“I have no idea. I don’t really know any of these Ottawa guys off the ice. But I assume that Rozanov wouldn’t tell them first if he didn’t think they’d accept it, right? Like, this is his top line of support. If these guys aren’t cool, he’s in for a world of shit.”
For the first time, Kip feels a little nervous. Scott is down to his underwear now, but Kip has to miss it because the door buzzes and he hustles out to hit the intercom.
Some of the Ottawa players have arrived in a group, and Kip is introduced to Wyatt Hayes, the goalie, who is a little older than Scott, probably, and has a teasing smirk that makes Kip think he has an inkling of what’s about to go down; Zane Boodram, who tells Kip to call him ‘Bood’ as he makes a beeline for the food; and Evan Dykstra, who is wearing a trucker hat and at first glance, doesn’t appear to be the sort of guy you’d invite to your coming-out party, but he shakes Kip’s hand heartily and seems the most enthusiastic to have been invited to Scott Hunter’s home.
Scott has just come back from the bedroom, dressed in clean clothes with his hair combed, and he’s saying hello to the three Centaurs now gathered around the island when the intercom buzzes again. Kip lets up two more guys, both of whom look slightly more suited to being invited to this sort of occasion. Kip knows Troy Barrett, both from his famous fight with that douchebag Dallas Kent, and from him being near the top of every list of ‘Hottest Guys in Hockey,’ but he knows that Barrett and Kent used to be friends, so Kip can’t help feeling like he’s an odd choice. The other guy, barely out of his teens, has a soft accent that Kip can’t quite place and introduces himself as Luca Haas. They both seem much more nervous than the older men.
Kip starts mixing some drinks for their guests, so when the buzzer sounds again, Scott goes to answer it. “Marlow! I wasn’t expecting you!” Scott exclaims. “I thought this was an Ottawa party.” Kip can’t hear Marlow’s response as he mashes his face into Scott’s shoulder for a bro-hug.
Scott drags a tall, dark-haired man into the kitchen and says, “Does everyone know Cliff Marlow? Boston player,” Scott clarifies, probably for Kip’s benefit since the others would know.
“Marley, this is a surprise,” Wyatt Hayes says. “I’m even more sure I know what this is about now, since it’s clearly going beyond our team.”
“Well, you should share with the class, because I’m confused as hell,” Cliff admits. “All I know is Rozy asked me to take the train up because it was important. I didn’t even know whose place I was going to until this afternoon.”
“Yeah, please enlighten us,” Bood puts in. “I want this to be, like a murder mystery party or, like, some kind of game. It feels too serious right now.”
Wyatt mimes turning a key in his lips. “All I have is wild speculation, I swear. No concrete information. But I did write my guess on a slip of paper. It’s in my pocket. Does that count as a game?”
“I don’t even have concrete information and it’s my damn apartment,” Scott says morosely.
“Leave it to Roz to bring the drama,” Evan says with a laugh, and Kip thinks they don’t know the half.
Looking around to see who still needs a drink, Kip makes eye contact with Troy Barrett, whose gaze slides away immediately, almost guiltily. Interesting. Before Kip can sidle over to try to find out what Troy knows, the door buzzes again. “That has to be Ilya,” Kip says, hurrying over. It is and when Kip opens the door, Ilya enfolds him in a warm hug, surprising Kip.
“Thank you so much for your hard work and for hosting,” he says, jovially.
“Where’s the guest of honor?” Kip asks, looking past Ilya into the hall.
“I thought I was the guest of honor!” Ilya complains flamboyantly, and Kip wonders for the umpteenth time why Ilya thinks he needs to come out to his friends. Surely anyone with a brain… “He’s coming,” Ilya says, much more quietly next to Kip’s ear. “Uber straight from the airport. Will be a little bit still. But is good, right? Dramatic reveal.” He pulls back and gives Kip a grin, which Kip can’t help but return.
Kip watches Ilya work the room, making sure his teammates all have drinks and have all been introduced to Cliff before shepherding them into the seating area that Kip has created. Kip notices him checking his phone a few times, always with the same fond smile.
Once everyone is settled, Ilya stands up, and takes a deep breath. “Now, you have all been asked here for important reasons. You are important to me, to the team, or both. Mostly both. I am assembling my Gay Avengers.”
“Can I be Captain America?” Evan asks with a grin, not even protesting the ‘gay’ part, which Kip takes as a good sign.
“No, Hunter is obviously Captain America,” Ilya continues, and Kip glances over to see Scott roll his eyes. “You cannot be in Gay Avengers anyway. You are straight. But me? I am Ironman.”
“Of course,” Wyatt says, nodding like this is all common knowledge.
“Wait, if you’re in the Gay Avengers, then…” Cliff starts, trailing off with a golden retriever-esque head tilt.
“Technically, I am bisexual, but am still Ironman, because, obviously,” Ilya says, and pauses for reactions. Kip looks around and sees a complete lack of surprise on a couple faces (Wyatt and Troy), mild surprise without any disgust or fear (Evan, Bood, and Cliff), and blushing surprise mixed with a little too much excitement (Luca). Kip definitely realizes now why the young rookie made the guest list. No one says anything right away, though, patiently waiting for Ilya to continue.
“I have not said so until now for many reasons. Not because I was ashamed or because I wanted to hide it, but because it made it easier to keep a bigger secret. I am seeing someone and have been for a long time, and it is a man. By not announcing that I am bisexual, no one thought to look for a man in my life and it made it simple to hide him.”
This proclamation got the reaction that Kip had been expecting earlier. Clearly no one is really that shocked that Ilya swings both ways, but the fact that he’s been hiding a male lover for ‘a long time’ is a revelation to the assembly. So many people shout things at once that no individual voices can be discerned. Ilya waves his hands in annoyance. “Enough! You are all saying too much too fast. You know English is not my first language, yes?”
Kip snorts. Ilya’s English is as good as anyone’s these days, but his admonishment does make the group pipe down.
“I know you have many questions, and I promise I will answer as many as I can. But I am telling you this because it will become important soon. I cannot hide him for too much longer because he is going to be my husband. I can hide much, but I cannot hide an entire husband.”
Pandemonium again. Kip smirks, realizing why Ilya had known he couldn’t do this in public. Everyone is talking at once again, and a few of the guys get up to hug Ilya and clap him on the back in congratulations.
Ilya accepts the attention, but waves away the questions. “Let me continue, please, and I will make everything clear.” The men return to their seats, shifting impatiently, while Ilya collects his thoughts. “There is a good reason why I kept it so secret. I’m sure you are wondering why I didn’t tell you, maybe even thinking that I thought I couldn’t trust you. This is not the truth at all. I trust all of you, very much, but because of who my fiance is, secrecy was very important for us. It still is very important to us. I am not sure how soon we will come out, but it is going to be huge. World-changing. And I do not say that lightly. So if any of you would prefer not to be in this inner circle, I will understand. You leave now, you go back to your hotel, and you are not involved. It is okay to do this. I will not be insulted. This is a big secret to keep. Trust me. I am an expert.”
The room goes very still. Finally Wyatt says, “Nah, man. Just call me, like, straight Ant-Man. I’m in. All the way. The world needs saving.” The rest of the guys seem to agree, and no one gets up. Or maybe they’re just as eager as Kip to finally hear a fucking name for this mystery husband.
As if reading his thoughts, the intercom buzzes again, and Ilya’s face lights up. “He’s here,” he says, almost a little breathless, and waves Scott down as he goes to open the door himself.
“He’s here?” Cliff asks, hushed and nervous. “Like, we’re about to meet him?”
“Oh shit,” Bood puts in. “I don’t know what to expect.”
Wyatt smirks. “I still have my guess,” he says, patting his pocket. “Anyone else think they know?” Troy and Scott both raise their hands and Wyatt grins at them.
Evan snorts. “It’s a player, isn’t it? It’s gotta be a player. No one else would be such a big deal.”
“The only clue I have is that Roz always used to text this girl - well, guy, I guess - in Montreal,” Cliff says.
Wyatt’s grin gets bigger. “Oh, I should have put money on this.”
Before anyone can get their wallets out, Ilya flings open the door and Shane Motherfucking Hollander walks into Scott and Kip’s apartment, and Kip feels like the floor is tilting under him. This is not just ‘a player.’ People who have never heard of hockey know who Shane Hollander is. Kip is a little bit surprised that Ilya hasn’t actually been overselling the level of earth-shattering that this news is going to be when it comes out.
“Okay,” Kip says, turning to Scott. “I get it. This is your nine-eleven.” Scott nods, and his eyes are closed like he’s praying for strength.
“Hey guys,” Shane says, as Ilya leads him by the hand into the room. “Surprise?”
The room is surprisingly quiet, as everyone processes the revelation. Luca’s face is beet red and he looks like he’s going to pass out. Cliff’s jaw is on the floor. Wyatt pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to Scott. Kip looks at it and it says, ‘Cap is dating Shane Hollander’ in tidy script. “Called it,” he says, clearly proud of himself.
Across from Kip, Troy looks sort of fond and wistful, like there are things going on in his head that are beyond this revelation. Evan pulls off his cap and scratches his head, like a cartoon depiction of confusion. Scott still looks like he’s on his last hour of oxygen, hurtling through the cosmos.
“I’m sure you have questions,” Ilya begins. “I will try to answer as many as possible. Yes, Hollander is the Montreal girl who is not a girl. We are engaged, and are very happy. We have been working toward a plan to come out for a while. Our foundation, me playing for Ottawa, it has all been about our relationship. We have been serious for maybe four years, but we were…”
“Hooking up,” Shane supplies with an unrepentant smirk.
“Yes, hooking up, for… the whole time. All of it,” Ilya says.
“Since before our rookie season,” Shane clarifies.
“What?” Scott bursts out, and Kip blanches at the volume so close to his ear. “Before your rookie year? I knew it was a long time, but that’s insane.”
Cliff looks like he’s going to throw up. “You were literally with Hollander the entire time I’ve known you. You had already slept with him when we met. There was never a minute that we spent together where you weren’t already having sex with Shane fucking Hollander. I’m gonna need a minute on this one, Roz. This is freaking me out.”
“I had your posters on my wall,” Luca says, the first thing Kip has heard him say that wasn’t polite talk related to being an invited guest and partaking in refreshments. “Both of you. I had them on my wall when I was a kid. And you were together the whole time.”
“Well, not really together-together,” Shane clarifies. “Just… kinda together.”
“I would not have bet money on that,” Bood says.
“Well,” Ilya says, slapping his palms on his thighs. “Now you know. Neither of us has ever played a second of professional hockey where we did not know what it was like to kiss each other. It has always been Hollander and Rozanov together.”
“The media had no idea how much it really was Hollander-and-Rozanov,” Shane says with a bashful grin.
“So, was the rivalry thing ever true?” Evan asks, sounding a little mystified.
“Oh, is very true,” Ilya says with a nod. “For a long time, that’s what it was. We would battle on the ice and then battle off the ice. I get drafted first, he blows me about it. He wins rookie of the year, I fuck him about it. Repeat over and over until you realize that somewhere you fell in love.” Ilya smirks at Shane, a secret smile that Shane returns, and Kip gets it.
These two men - inextricably linked from the time they were practically children - really had no choice but to be a duo. The two best, constantly battling for first and second places, back and forth, one-upping each other, and making each other better. “This is actually kind of epic,” Kip says out loud, without really meaning to, but the others murmur agreement.
“Seriously. This could be a graphic novel,” Wyatt tells them. “Luca, you and I have to work on this. Luca’s great at drawing,” he adds, for those who don’t know. “I’m not even kidding about this. It could be a fucking movie.”
“There’s one more thing we wanted to say,” Shane adds, drawing the attention back to the front of the room. “I came out to my team a while ago - not about Ilya, just that I’m gay - and it hasn’t been going well. They just don’t really support me anymore, which sucks, but it is what it is. And Ilya and I have been doing some work behind the scenes, and I think we can make it happen that I can go to Ottawa.”
Everyone murmurs at this and Scott sits up violently enough that it jostles Kip. “How would that even be fair?” Scott asks. “You guys would dominate!”
“Oh yes, we know,” Ilya says with a grin, running his tongue over his teeth, predatory and pleased, at the same time Shane says, “I know, right?” with a devious glint in his eye. Oh, Kip definitely gets it now.
“Holy shit, we’d win everything,” Wyatt says, his voice quiet and reverent.
From his quiet corner, Troy bursts out laughing. He laughs hard enough and for long enough that Kip thinks about getting him a bottle of water.
“Jesus, Barrett, are you okay?” Bood asks.
Troy makes a visible effort to pull himself together. “I’m sorry, it’s just that we’re about to have the gayest team in the history of hockey.”
“Do you mean…” Evan starts, but Troy cuts him off.
“Yup. I’m gay. I’m actually seeing Harris. Our social media guy at the Centaurs,” he clarifies for the non-Ottawa people.
“Um, guys,” Luca starts, but he can’t finish because everyone is shouting at once again.
Kip starts laughing too, because really, what are the fucking odds, and Scott shoots him another long-suffering look. “Don’t get a single idea,” Scott tells him. “There’s no earthly way we’re moving to fucking Ottawa.”
That makes Kip laugh harder, letting out an unbecoming snort, which forces him to try to rein it in. “No, but, and I’m sorry for this in advance, but I’m definitely buying an Ottawa jersey.”
Scott pinches the bridge of his nose, but then he sighs and says, “Okay, fine. Get me one, too. As long as it’s not Rozanov’s.”
***
One year later, Scott and Kip fly to Ottawa for their pride game. They’d both gotten the limited edition pride jerseys, which were the most flamboyant Kip had ever seen. The teams always did special jerseys for Pride, but it was usually just adding a rainbow here or there. The Ottawa Centaurs had fully embraced their role as the gayest team in the league by creating not just fully rainbow-striped jerseys, but a special version of their logo. Their normal logo, a centaur playing hockey, was pretty silly, but this iteration leaned into the silliness, showing two centaurs, both with hockey sticks, nuzzling into each other. They didn’t make it fully obvious that it was supposed to be Shane and Ilya, but one centaur had a dark brown mane, and the other’s mane was light golden brown with a bit of a wave to it.
Kip still didn’t like to be frivolous with Scott’s money, but he’d unrepentantly bought four of the pride jerseys with Scott’s AmEx: Hollander, Rozanov, Barrett, and Haas. They’d forgone the obvious choices for the game, though. Scott’s wearing Haas’s jersey, because when they see him later, it’ll make the younger man’s head explode to see Scott wearing his number. He’s gotten a bit better at not being star-struck around the big-name players, but not by much. Kip’s wearing Barrett because the guy is hot. Sue him. Plus he was not going to put himself in the middle of a Hollander/Rozanov pissing contest. Not again.
Scott introduces Kip to Shane Hollander’s parents, who are wearing matching hoodies in the Ottawa colors that both say, ‘Love Wins’ on the fronts, and ‘Hollander-Rozanov’ on the backs, with a big rainbow heart. Kip smiles as he listens to them gush about their boys.
The game itself is great. The kiss cam finds Scott and Kip, and they indulge the crowd with a smooch. They seem to be choosing mostly same-sex couples, which Kip loves. They end the kiss cam segment by finding Shane and Ilya on the bench, and Shane immediately gets red, but he dutifully lets Ilya plant one on him, the best he can when they both have helmets on. The crowd is deafening after that.
Ottawa beats Columbus 5-2. “If they don’t win the cup this year, I’ll eat this stupid horse jersey,” Scott mutters as they make their way down toward the team offices. They’d promised Troy’s boyfriend Harris that he could get a short interview while they were here.
Kip smiles at him. “Don’t act like you’re not strangely proud.”
Scott doesn’t bother to hide his smile back.
Later, obligations fulfilled, Scott and Kip meet up at Shane and Ilya’s house, with most of the Ottawa team. Scott is satisfied talking hockey, so Kip wanders around, looking at the plethora of framed pictures of Shane and Ilya together, through the years. It’s the main form of decor in the house, it seems. It makes sense to Kip, though. Finally living out loud after years of hiding must really make one want to show off. He’s looking at an old picture, Shane and Ilya, noticeably baby-faced, crouched down in a face-off position, zoomed in so much that you can’t even see the entirety of their helmets, both grinning at each other like they can’t hold it in.
“This is my favorite,” Ilya says conversationally, and Kip jumps a little. He’d been studying their faces so intently that he hadn’t realized Ilya had approached him. “That’s the day we first kissed. And did other things, but that’s maybe not appropriate party talk.” Ilya says the last phrase in a voice that implies he had been warned about what was appropriate party talk, presumably by Shane.
“I don’t need appropriate,” Kip tells him.
“Oh good, then I will tell you we also sucked each other off.”
Kip barks out a laugh. “Before or after this picture was taken?”
“After. Wasn’t the first time we met, but it was the longest time we’d spent together. He was so fucking cute, I couldn’t resist him. I had to seduce him.”
“Oh?” Kip asks, sensing Ilya needs little provocation to tell this story.
“We were shooting a commercial in an old rink, and it was just so fun. Hollander made everything more fun for me. He was so boring and good all the time. I wanted to mess him up, make him laugh. Make him do more than that. We skated hard, so we went to shower after, and I could have waited for him to finish, but I went in with him, and I had met him several times before that, and I knew he wanted me. I have the best gaydar, you know? So I was not surprised that he couldn’t stop looking at me. And he could not hide how much he liked it. The company put us up at the same hotel and I gave him my room number and told him to come over later. I thought he might chicken out, but I had told him to come, and my Shane is so good at doing what he’s told.” Ilya says this last part with such a fond wistfulness that Kip barely clocks the fact that it’s a very revealing tidbit about their relationship.
“That was before we ever played a professional game,” Ilya continues. “We were babies. Especially Shane,” he says, running a finger over picture-Shane’s round, boyish cheek.
“You’ve come a long way,” Kip says, looking around at the big house full of friends and found family.
“Thank you for being with us for most of it, even if you didn’t really know you were.” Ilya puts a hand on Kip’s arm with a starling amount of sincerity.
Kip finds himself genuinely touched. Not sure how to respond to an earnest Ilya Rozanov, he just smiles and says, “That’s what the Gay Avengers are for.”