Chapter Text
The Monday after the video (the only one that anyone was talking about), David went to work as usual. What could he do, really? Not going was just putting off the inevitable. Not going said he felt there was something wrong with the situation. Not going gave other people permission to think there was something wrong with the situation. And he’d be damned if he’d let that happen.
He got in early. That seemed like a reasonable thing to do.
It ended up not just being reasonable. It ended up being wise.
Between the parking garage and the building's door, he’d been stopped twice. Once by Larry. (Fucking Larry! The audacity!) And once by Trisha.
Larry had been getting out of his car just as David locked his SUV and adjusted the laptop bag on his shoulder.
“Hey, David!” The man called out over his tiny, powder-blue car. Larry was loud and bald and annoying. The first and last idea were connected. David felt like the middle idea was the reason Larry felt like being the other two, somehow, but couldn’t quite work out the logistics.
“Yeah?” David asked, in as neutral of a tone as humanly possible.
Larry slammed his car door and activated the alarm. “Saw the thing about your kid. That’s too bad, huh?”
It took all the effort in the world not to glower at the man. Larry had two ex-wives. He wouldn’t know a stable relationship if it bit him in the ass. “Yeah, they weren’t thrilled about the video. They were planning on going public this summer.” Just as Larry drew in another breath, David waved. “I have some stuff to take care of. Talk to you later.”
And then, despite his plantar fasciitis, he did a speed walk out of the garage and toward his building.
He almost made it there without anyone saying anything to him. There were stares from people he knew. But no one said anything to him. Until he reached the doors.
Just as he was taking his badge out, Trisha, a five foot militant middle manager in a tan suit, put a hand on his forearm. Everyone had to have the one handsy coworker, and Trisha was his. “I just wanted to let you know how sorry I was…”
David slid his hand out of her grasp, but made it look like he was just pulling out his badge. What the fuck was she sorry about, exactly? “Oh, nothing to be sorry about. Everything’s fine.”
“Shane always seemed like such a nice young man…”
Shoulders rolling back, he sighed and rolled his eyes as he turned to pass his badge over the reader. “It’s fine, Trish.”
“You must be so disappointed.”
He turned back to her. “A little. His friend Hayden is a bit of a dolt. He should have checked that video before he sent it out.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Trisha said, reaching past him and flashing her own badge.
Oh he knew what she meant. “Well, they were going to come out this summer, so that really wrecks their plans…”
When Shane had changed the plan, he’d breathed a sigh of relief. Things had been hard to keep up on his end, sure. But they were slowly destroying both Ilya and Shane. He had no idea how they’d keep it up until retirement anyways. Beyond that, it just killed him that they felt like they had to.
She gasped as they headed toward the elevator, her unfortunately keeping pace with him. Know when you’re not wanted, Trish. “You knew?”
He resisted the urge to sigh. He was going to be doing this a lot today. He’d steeled himself at home for it, but now that he was in the thick of the stares and comments, he knew he wouldn’t make it through the day before he cracked. “For a couple of years.”
Her eyes went out of focus and back in for a moment as that new information penetrated. “And you’re… ok with that?”
Jesus Christ. He knew he worked for the Treasury Department, a government entity not exactly known for being socially forward, but give him some damned credit.
“Sure,” He said casually, pressing the up button. “Ilya’s a great guy. Couldn’t imagine anyone better for Shane.”
Trisha vibrated for a moment, not liking that answer. “Well, I figured—”
“You figured what?” He asked, “That I’d have a problem?” He wondered how many times he’d face this particular reaction today. Because he hated it. It questioned his own integrity, and it rankled. A lot.
“Well, your son is just so…”
“Don’t finish that,” he said as the elevator opened and he got in.
Trish shook herself taller, somehow. “It’s just such a shame.” Before David could find some professional way of telling her to fuck off, she stepped away from the elevator and the door closed.
Good. Fuck Trisha.
They weren’t all like that. Amanda Peterson went on about how good this was going to be for the sport, now that it was more than just Scott Hunter who was out. He wanted to groan and tell her that this was his kid, a real human being, whom he cared about more than any benefit to the sport.
Shane’s life was hockey, and once upon a time, David’s was too. But his life hadn’t been hockey since Shane was born. Now he was firmly wrapped up in his son, possibly to an unhealthy amount now that he was an adult, and if he could tell the entire world to fuck off all at once, and leave his kid alone, he would.
And he’d all but adopted Ilya, so the world could fuck off on his behalf as well.
A few more folks said noncommittally that they’d seen the video, basically waiting to see how David felt about it, before giving their own equally mild opinions. The smart one was at least sorry Shane hadn’t gotten to come out on his own.
He had to explain to a handful people what had happened. They’d only heard part of the story and didn’t understand why it was a big deal. He did not, however, elaborate on why it was a big deal. To him it wasn’t, and it shouldn’t be. He knew it would be. He wasn’t an idiot. It wasn’t like he hadn’t grown up in that environment, or raised a son in that environment.
He threw Hayden under the bus a few more times with absolutely no guilt. Hayden, nice guy though he was, and good friend to Shane though he was, was still an idiot. Who didn’t check that stuff before they uploaded it? David reread every email thrice before sending it. He imagined that if he had an actual online presence beyond a Facebook, he’d check every photo and video before uploading it.
The last photo he uploaded was a while ago, in fact. The last time Shane had won the Cup. It was a terrible one from the stands of the last play of the game. He could have taken a better one from down on the ice, but had been wrapped up in actually existing in the moment and hadn’t thought to. But he’d still checked it before uploading. Damnit, Hayden.
God forbid people get their damned heads out of their phones. In fact, he felt like this story wouldn’t have spread like wildfire if people weren’t so addicted to the internet. The oldies station… The OLDIES STATION had said they’d learned about it from RabbitHole, which was just terrible. He didn’t expect them to have the integrity of a news organization, but get your information from somewhere other than where kids went around doing funny dances and people tried to sell you shit you didn’t need.
Anyway, every damned person in the office knew. He could tell from the way they looked his way when he came in, then quickly looked away.
Unless they felt the need to say something.
Like Prince, who’d been leaning over the photocopier until David shuffled past, but turned when he heard footsteps. Also who didn’t say hello, didn’t ask if the story was true. He just launched into the question of whether the two were throwing games for each other. David just said the idea was ridiculous and walked past him.
That was all before he had his office door unlocked.
When he got in, he dropped his laptop bag into the chair next to his desk and took a few deep breaths. It would do absolutely no good for anyone if he were to lose his cool, but getting hammered so hard and fast upon getting out of his car had almost left him out of wind.
Apparently he needed to jog more or have less stress in his life. He probably needed both, truth be told. He’d been slacking off the last few months or so. Yuna was a firm elliptical advocate and her health tracking scores on their shared app had been beating him on the regular lately, and he kind of hated it. It used to at least be a contest.
As for stress… He promised himself this would all blow over. People would get used to the idea. They’d accepted Scott Hunter, hadn’t they?
But Hunter’s partner was not on another team. And he was the first. People were compelled to have a favorable view for the first. The second or third or fourth? Not so much. Those guys were jumping on the bandwagon of notoriety.
Shane and Ilya also had racism and xenophobia working against them as well.
But the chief sticking point was the rivalry at the moment. If it weren’t for that… if they weren’t playing against each other on the semi-regular… they’d just be guys trying to ride Hunter’s coattails.
It made him kind of sick.
Setting up his computer, he opened his calendar to see what fresh hells today wrought.
Oh no. A meeting with Phil. That wasn’t going to be fun. Maybe he could reschedule it? Except Verity was also supposed to be at the meeting…
Verity wouldn’t be bad. She followed exactly zero sports, nodded along cheerfully when David gushed about his son and never, ever asked any followup questions. Phil, on the other hand, was far too interested in Shane’s career. He was always asking questions. No telling what idiotic thing he’d say.
Then a working lunch meeting. At least they fed them at those things. They had better—he was giving up eating lunch in solitude at his desk for it.
Sometimes… he just didn’t want to see the faces of anyone in his department for a little while, and going to the break room was a solid interference with that desire.
He looked at his afternoon. Was it already time for that report to be due? He’d finished it already, of course. But couldn’t believe they were actually discussing it this afternoon. More chances for people to be stupid about this whole outing situation.
Then again, pretty much anything anyone said to him right now sounded stupid, supporters and detractors alike, so maybe that wasn’t fair.
Fortunately, those were all of the meetings for the day. He might actually accomplish something, if everyone stopped having opinions around him.
Maybe he should check on Shane and Ilya after lunch. He’d sent a few texts off this morning that he hadn’t gotten any responses to. He was sure they were busy. Maybe they didn’t want to talk. Either way… he felt like he should keep nudging them. Even if it meant he was being annoying. They needed to know people were in their corner.
Not that it had all been bad. There’d been a significant amount of support. All the way from weirdos who said that this was their fondest wish and dream, to people who said this should be celebrated until it becomes so completely normal that no one bats an eye.
There was everything else in between. Then there was the other side…The really loud ones were the ones saying there shouldn’t be any “gay shit” in the sport they were a fan of, or that this was detracting from the game, and it should be all about that. But there were a lot of positive posts online and people showing support other ways. Though there had been a tremendous amount of gifs and photo-manipulations of the kiss from what he’d seen.
Bryce knocked on his office door, then hung off the doorway instead of just entering like a normal human being. He had no idea what the deal was with the Gen Zers. The kid (Guy? Was he old enough to be a guy?) was wearing a bright blue sweater vest and had his hair in that messy look that took like three products to achieve. David didn’t get it.
“Can I do something for you?” David asked when Bryce didn’t state his intention.
“So, was that like… for real? It wasn’t some kind of deep fake or something?”
David sighed and lowered his laptop lid just a bit. “It was real.”
“I heard they’re gonna be investigated.”
That was the rumor. He was neither confirming nor denying it. “I can’t say anything about that.”
Bryce seemed to be thinking awfully hard about something. “WERE they throwing games for each other?”
“Hell no,” David said with absolute confidence. “Those two are the most competitive people I know. And they’re most competitive with each other. They can’t load the dishwasher without it turning into some sort of contest.
Of course, that had been a question he and Yuna had had when they first found out Shane and Ilya were together. They shouldn’t have, though. Not with the way they knew Shane. That alone should have deterred them from doubting. Still—it had crept in.
“So then why didn’t they just come out in the beginning?”
David’s eyes narrowed. “Because people like you ask questions like that.”
Bryce had the decency to at least be sheepish about it. “Sorry.” He stopped hanging off the doorway and straightened up. “But you have to wonder—”
“No, I don’t. I know both of them, and I do not.” He had no idea what the kid was going to say, but he didn’t want to hear it.
“I just mean—”
“They’re both good guys. And one of those good guys is my SON. I don’t really want to hear any shit from anyone about them.”
Rather than appearing contrite at the subtle telling-off, Bryce was offended. “I didn’t say anything—I just meant, people are going to wonder.”
“People can wonder whatever they like. That’s not important to me. They’d just better not say anything where I can hear. Now, do you have anything work-related for me?” Hopefully word would get around that he wasn’t taking shit. It had taken a total of fifteen minutes for him to get sick of all of this.
“No.” The kid left without saying goodbye.
David lifted the lid on his laptop again, hoping for a few quiet minutes.
And he got it. A few. Literally. Two.
Cindy was one of those motherly types. The ones that didn’t have any children of their own, and just took every lost creature under their wing. She wasn’t a bad sort. But he could tell from the look on her round face that he wasn’t going to like this.
“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” she said with a sympathetic tilt of her head from the doorway, likewise not entering his office.
He lowered the laptop screen again about half-way. “I’m fine, really.”
How was he, actually? He didn’t know. Angry with Hayden. Relieved that the secrecy was over. A few other things, maybe that he didn’t have time to examine. Yesterday had mostly been filled with panic. Part of that was because he didn’t know how Shane was going to take it. His child, God love him, had no chill. He ran at zero, and he ran at a hundred, with nothing in between.
Fortunately, Shane had taken it at least mostly in stride.
“I’m sure this has been a lot. You poor thing.” Somehow she tiled her head still-more. It was almost comical.
“I’m fine,” he assured her. His neutral, professional tone was gettin a workout today.
“You must be so upset.”
Oh. She was trolling for gossip. “It was going to come out, either way. This is just a little earlier than they’d planned.”
“You knew?”
Yeah, he was feeding the beast. And he really didn’t care who she told, because maybe people would get the hint that he was fine with it, and shut up.
Unfortunately, Cindy had six deliverables he needed for a meeting on Thursday, so he really couldn’t politely tell her to fuck off. She also wouldn’t understand it unless he told her directly and outright. And then, anything he said would sound rude. He’d been dealing with the many shades of Cindy for the last seventeen years and he knew what he was up against.
He nodded. “I knew. Who do you think helped them keep it quiet?”
Her eyes grew wide with shock, but he couldn’t judge which kind. The ‘you bastard’ kind, or the ‘you lead such a sad life’ kind. “It must have been so hard.”
“Yeah. On them,” he said shortly. He still couldn’t tell where this was going. “Cindy, it’s fine. They were coming out this summer anyway. They were just waiting for the season to be over.”
She still looked like she had more on her mind. “Seeing your child on every broadcast kissing SOMEONE.”
Oh. “You mean a man?”
“Surely—”
“It’s FINE, Cindy.” He wanted to sigh, but he wasn’t giving her the satisfaction. “The only part that isn’t fine is that it wasn’t their choice.”
A second later, Edwin from purchasing was in the doorway as well. The tall, lanky man with horn-rimmed glasses was carrying a doughnut in one hand and a blue file folder in another. “I heard about The Thing on the radio this morning.”
David closed the laptop completely and did sigh that time. “Yes. It happened. Yes, I knew about it. No, I don’t care. It’s fine, everything’s fine. They were coming out anyway, it’s just that Shane’s best friend is an idiot.”
“Well, you don’t have to be rude about it,” Edwin said with a sniff. “Just wanted to know if it increases the odds the Centaurs will make the playoffs this year.” He took a bite of the doughnut.
Oh. Great. Edwin was a Centaurs fan.
“NO, they don’t throw games for each other,” David reiterated, knowing that was the real question. “Do I need to send a department-wide email about this?”
“I was just asking.”
“He’s a little touchy about it,” Cindy said in a faux whisper.
“I’m a little touchy about it,” David confirmed. “That’s my son the media is tearing to pieces. And his partner. Who is a good man.”
Edwin snorted. SNORTED. “Ilya Rozanov?”
“Yeah. Ilya Rozanov.”
Edwin leaned into the office, but refused to step over the threshold, same as everyone else. “He might play for Ottawa now, but he is NOT a good person.”
“Who would know? You or me? Who has him over for dinner at least once a week? You or me?” David said, defensively. “Is he an asshole? Yes. But he’s a good man.” Ilya was who he was, after all. And he was both.
Edwin took a step back.
“We’re just saying—” Cindy began.
David cut her off. “I know what everyone’s saying. I don’t care. Everyone is making a big deal—the league is making a big deal—out of nothing. NOTHING. They’re two guys in a committed relationship who happen to work in the same field, and if this was any other field, it’d be fine. Hell, if this was any other league it would be fine. Women players are married to each other all the time.”
“They’re MARRIED?” Cindy practically yelled.
He waved his hands in front of his face, getting to his feet. “They’re NOT married.” Yet. Of course that was not his secret to tell. “I’m just saying—other players manage relationships and the world—and their league—does not end.”
And between Edwin and Cindy, Gordon, a white haired, haunched-over man from purchasing rolled up. “Are we talking about—”
“YES,” David said, a little too loud. “My son and his partner. If anyone has any thoughts, they’d better get them out now, because I’m not doing this all day.”
The new entrant into the conversation stood up a little straighter, though he was still quite haunched. “We didn’t have gay this and gay that back in my day,” Gordon began.
David gripped the edge of his desk, battening down the hatches for whatever was coming next.
He must have seen David tense, because he shrugged. “Well, they just didn’t. The gay guys just kept it quiet and were miserable all the time. So I guess… good for him.” Gordon turned and wandered off, not waiting for a response.
Shoulders slumping with relief. That was ONE battle he didn’t have to face today, telling the oldest and most senior guy on the floor to go fuck himself.
“I think it’s nice,” Cindy was quick to add.
“No, you don’t,” David said with exhaustion in his voice before his brain could catch up with his mouth.
She reared up, her feathers ruffled. “Well.”
Great. Now there went his deliverables. “I’m sorry.” He was not sorry. “I just don’t really need any sympathy or commiseration, or a lecture or anything, really. I just need to get some work done.” He came around his desk and grabbed hold of the door frame. “Thank everybody for their concern, but I’m busy until my ten o’clock meeting.”
He started closing it, despite two grown human beings in the doorway. “Thank you. Goodbye,” he said as they jumped back. The door clicked closed and he pressed his forehead to it, breathing heavily. Jesus Christ.
Fuck his open door policy today.
Shane wasn’t one for backup plans. His idea was to charge ahead, force open every door, and just... achieve.
It had been incumbent upon his mother and his and Ilya’s agent to prepare for a leak. And they’d done their best. But no one had anticipated the method by which knowledge of their relationship had been revealed.
It was hard to manage public perception, but, God bless her, Yuna was at home trying. Farah was trying to assure both the boys' organizations and the league that everything was fine. They were definitely in the trenches right now.
And here he was in his own very muddy trench, fighting a thousand individual opinions coming at him at once, with just a bayonet.
He sat back down, re-opened the laptop and logged back in. He looked over his calendar one more time, then turned to his email. Ninety-seven emails. Great. He wondered how many of them were actually about work, and how many of them were questions, condolences, angry missives or messages of approval, none of which he needed.
Scrolling through subject headings, it looked like most of them were about Shane. Everyone had feelings and opinions. Intellectually, he respected that. As a father, he wanted to wave a flaming torch at the angry villagers and force them all to back up and away from his child.
Writing a quick rule to dump anything that mentioned Shane into a folder he could deal with later, when he wasn’t feeling so harsh, he looked at his cleaned-up inbox. Twenty-two messages was far more manageable.
Another three slipped his rule by not mentioning Shane by name or say “your son,” so once he dumped them, everything felt a little more bearable.
Kyle needed him to run a new formula on some statistics, which was fine. That would take a while. In fact, he was kind of looking forward to it. It would occupy his time until his 10 a.m., at which point he’d probably have to go back to listening to everyone’s utter bullshit.
Except, as soon as he opened the file to work on it, there was a knock at his door.
“What?” He asked, then winced at his own tone.
There was a chuckle on the other side that David recognized. Great. His grand-boss. Who just about never visited this floor.
“Charles!” David said with a tight smile, standing. “Sorry about that, it’s been a morning.”
The man in the pretentious three-piece suit… stood in the doorway. Was no one willing to cross the threshold today? What was this?
“What can I do for you?” David asked finally, seeing the man was not going to budge. Trying to sweat him out? Maybe.
“We need to talk.”
Yeah. He had a feeling it was something like that.
David gestured to his chair. “I don’t have anything until ten.”
But Charles didn’t come in. This was getting weird. “Maybe we can go to my office?”
Oh fuck.
TO BE CONTINUED...