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“Alright everyone, food’s ready! Come and get it!”
Shane Hollander turned to look in the direction of the booming announcement. Zane Boodram, Alternate Captain of the Ottawa Centaurs, stood proudly next to a large picnic table holding a massive aluminum tray that was nearly overflowing with barbequed meat. The extra large table, already laden with a generous spread of food, stood in the center of Bood’s impressive stone patio, which-- as Shane had been informed by no fewer than three separate Centaurs players, was the number one favorite location for team get togethers. As the smell of the food wafted across the patio and out into the backyard, Shane could begin to understand the appeal.
Bood deposited the tray onto the table, and swiftly moved out of the way before he was trampled by the oncoming stampede of hockey players. Leading the pack was, of course, Ilya. He had been kicking around a soccer ball with a few younger players, but upon hearing Bood’s voice, had let out a whoop and ran in the direction of the feast.
“Out of my way! Last time you fuckers ate all the ribs before I could have any, so now they are all for me! Nothing but salad for the rest of you!” he shouted as he playfully shoved past Evan Dykstra.
“Hey, fuck you Roz,” complained Dykstra. He looked up at Luca Haas, who was leaning against the outdoor bar a few feet away from the table, tapping away intently on his phone.
“Quick, Haasy! Grab a plate and load up on ribs before Roz takes them all!”
At the sound of his name, Haas looked up distractedly. He slid the phone into his pocket, but before he could move, Ilya skidded to a stop in front of the table. He grabbed a plate, and began loading it with grilled meat.
Dykstra groaned. “Nice one, Haasy. Hope you like coleslaw and potato salad because that’s all that’ll be left when Roz is through with the buffet.”
Shane grinned, and grabbed a plate.
+++
In the end, Ilya had been unsuccessful in his attempts to claim the entire tray of ribs, although he’d managed to obtain and eat an impressive helping. Now, he licked the remnants of bbq sauce from his fingers as he and Shane settled at one end of the patio where a cluster of cushioned outdoor furniture circled around a metal fire pit. Harris Drover sat on one side of a loveseat, watching amusedly while Troy Barrett stacked logs in the fire pit and frowned. Luca perched on a nearby ledge, his phone in his hand.
“Babe, you know, it works better if you light it on fire. With a lighter, you know?” teased Harris.
“Thanks Harris. That’s very helpful.” answered Troy dryly without looking up.
“Maybe you should try glaring at it again,” suggested Ilya.
“You wanna give it a try, Roz?” he asked irritably. Ilya gestured to Shane.
“Have Hollander do it. Sitting around looking at campfires is his second favorite Canadian activity.”
Shane rolled his eyes, but stepped forward. He took the lighter from Troy, and in thirty seconds, a fire crackled cheerfully in the metal shell.
Conversation between the two couples flowed easily, and Shane sat back in his seat, content to listen as Ilya bantered back and forth with Harris and Troy. His gaze drifted around the backyard, where the Centaurs and their partners mingled with each other. He caught snippets of lighthearted conversation carried over an undercurrent of some awful country music playlist that someone— probably Dykstra— had put on. Everyone was so relaxed. Comfortable with each other, like they genuinely liked each other. It was surreal to Shane. Less than 18 months ago, his relationship with Ilya had been leaked, and his team had wasted no time dropping him unceremoniously at the end of the season. He’d thought they were his brothers, that he’d retire in Montreal, but now… looking around the party tonight, he couldn’t help but realize that even on his best days in Montreal, he’d never had anything even close to this. Aside from Hayden and JJ, he’d always been an outsider. He had been valued for his talent, nothing more. The realization stung, but less than he expected.
He looked back at Ilya, who was swapping dog photos with Harris.
“Ahh, Chiron. He is such a good boy,” said Ilya, watching a video of a large, fluffy dog rolling around with a dog toy in his mouth. “And so big now! And very handsome!” Harris nodded in agreement. “You should see when I take him to the farm. The smaller dogs jump all over him, he’s really just a big baby.”
“You should have brought him tonight,” pouted Ilya. “He is my favorite member of this team.”
“Gee, thanks,” said Shane, grinning.
“You don’t let me rub your belly in public,” Ilya pointed out, as if that settled the matter.
“Fuck off,” laughed Shane.
Ilya’s eyes flicked around the circle and settled on Luca. He’d been sitting just on the periphery of the small group since they settled in around the fire, but just like the rest of the evening, he’d been uncharacteristically glued to his phone.
“I wonder what could be so fascinating that it would keep Haasy from enjoying our company this evening?” Ilya smirked. “Perhaps he also has videos of wonderful dogs that he should be sharing with us?”
All eyes turned to Luca, who was intently tapping away with a tentative smile on his face. After a beat, he seemed to notice the lull in conversation and looked up, quickly sliding the phone into his pocket as he realized that he’d somehow become the center of attention. The tips of his ears went pink as he tried, and failed, to adopt a casual manner.
“Sorry, did I miss something?”
“Oh, nothing,” smirked Ilya. “I spend too much time with Hollander now and have become too boring for my own team. I think maybe you are having a more interesting conversation with someone else?”
If Luca’s ears were pink before, they were bright red now, as was most of his face.
“Oh, no, it’s-— it’s nothing. Just a friend, you know. Trying to make plans.”
“A friend, huh?” prompted Harris, his eyes twinkling. “What’s your friend’s name?”
“And are they good in bed?” drawled Ilya with a sarcastic grin.
“Don’t be an asshole,” scolded Shane.
“He— it's not—” stammered Luca, eyes darting around the circle as he looked for help.
“Leave the kid alone,” mumbled Troy, although even he couldn't fully hide the hint of amusement in his voice.
“Yeah, come on Roz,” grinned Harris. He turned to Luca. “It’s great that you’re meeting people outside of hockey. And seriously, we’ll leave you alone if you want us to, but… y’know, we’re your friends! We like to hear about your life. And we’re here if you ever want to talk about anything.”
Luca’s face shifted. “Well, actually,” he hesitated, looked away as if he had changed his mind, then with a deep breath, met Shane’s gaze and carried on.
“Actually, Hollander, I was hoping that maybe you could help me? Give me some advice?”
Shane’s brain scrambled to respond as he processed this unexpected request.
“Oh… what kind of advice? How to make plans with friends?”
“No— um, dating advice, I guess.”
Ilya choked on his beer and turned away, coughing and laughing. Shane shot an irritated glance in his direction, but privately, he had to admit Ilya’s reaction was understandable. Asking him for this kind of help was objectively ridiculous.
“Dating advice?” Shane tried and failed to repress a smile. “Are you sure I'm the right person for this?”
“You and Rozanov seem very happy.” Luca said simply. “You must be doing something right.”
Shane couldn't help letting out a sardonic laugh. “Well, yeah— I mean, things are really good now. But man, you know how fucking messy and complicated it was for us, right? For years? Nothing about this thing between us should have worked, it's sort of a miracle that it did.”
Ilya, now recovered from his coughing fit, scowled. “Not a miracle. We are very much in love.”
“Yeah, obviously, I just mean I don't think people should look at our relationship as a step-by-step guide, you know?”
“Yeah Roz, which step is the one where you feel each other up in the background of your friend’s fanmail video?” asked Troy.
“The step right before the one where I post the video of you drunk at karaoke night to my Instagram page,” retorted Ilya. “Your three fans will love your rendition of Britney Spears.”
“Hey, I’ve got at least seven fans.”
Ilya stood and walked over to lean against the wall next to Luca. “We don't even know what this question is. Go on, Haas, I will even let Shane answer first, and when he gives terrible advice, I will tell you the right thing to do.”
Luca sighed and let his shoulders droop.
“What's his name?” prompted Harris encouragingly.
“Jean,” murmured Luca, a bashful smile playing on his lips. “He's a student at the University. Really smart, he studies engineering.”
“How the hell did you meet an engineering student?” joked Troy. Luca somehow managed to look more embarrassed than he already did.
“Be nice,” Harris admonished, poking Troy in the side.
“He also draws,” Luca explained. “There's a shop downtown where I get my art supplies. I met him there.”
Shane smiled. “That's cool, man. He's nice?” Encouraged by this, Luca's face brightened and he nodded.
“Yes, he is very nice. Quiet, thoughtful but with lots to say on the right topic. And he's Québécois. It's nice to be able to speak French with him.”
“So, are you two—” began Harris.
“ —fucking?” Interrupted Ilya.
“Jesus Christ, Ilya,” snapped Shane.
“Together?” Finished Harris with an exasperated look at Ilya. “Or, you know, is there something there?”
“Well,” Luca began, his initial reluctance to talk disappearing rapidly, “we’ve been talking for a while now. Going on dates and, well. You know. Doing stuff.” he finished, grinning.
Ilya whooped and clapped Luca on the shoulder. “Yes! Nice job, Haas, very good.”
Luca's smile faltered slightly.
“It's just…” he hesitated, and then shook his head and stepped away from Ilya. “Actually, never mind, it’s nothing.”
“What, you don’t want my help?” asked Ilya, incredulous.
“I think you will make fun of me,” replied Luca, with a note of petulance. Shane shot a pointed look at Ilya, who had the decency to look chastised, and moved to perch on the arm of the loveseat where Troy and Harris sat.
“Okay, okay” he said apologetically. “I will shut up, I promise. Okay? All of us will shut up except for Shane.”
Shit. Shane recoiled internally. Thanks a lot, Ilya. He shot his husband a look which he hoped conveyed exactly that sentiment, and received one of Ilya’s obnoxiously flirty winks in return. What an asshole.
Luca looked at him expectantly. Shane schooled his features into what he hoped was a look of confidence and openness.
“Well,” he started unenthusiastically, “I'll help if I can. So… what’s the issue?”
“So, yeah, Jean and I have been talking, and he's nice. Funny, sweet, I like him. But I’m the first guy he’s ever been with. And,” he cleared his throat self consciously, “I haven't really, like, dated a lot either.”
“Young love,” mused Ilya, grinning until Troy elbowed him in the ribs.
“He’s coming over tonight,” blurted out Luca. “For the first time, and I’m kind of freaking out.”
Across the circle, Harris’s eyebrows raised but he remained silent.
“Okay… so, like…” Shane squirmed. “Freaking out about him… visiting your house?”
“God, no— Hollander, he wants me to fuck him.” Luca said impatiently. “That kind of first time.”
Harris’s eyebrows somehow shot up even higher. Troy stared intently into his cup, biting his lower lip hard enough Shane thought he might draw blood. Ilya had turned almost fully away from the circle, shaking with silent laughter. Luca stared intently at Shane, waiting for an answer.
Shane looked at his ginger ale, and then across the patio at the copious bottles of liquor Bood had placed on the bar. Ilya had mostly regained his composure, and he followed his gaze and understood immediately.
“This conversation requires alcohol,” he interjected, and strode over to the bar. He returned a few seconds later with a stack of red plastic cups and a nearly full bottle.
“Bood does not buy very good vodka, but it will have to do.” He poured a small amount in each of five cups and passed them out among the group. Luca looked at his cup, raised it absently towards Ilya, and downed it.
Shane didn’t drink frequently, and he almost never drank straight liquor. Nevertheless, he looked at the clear liquid swirling in the bottom of the cup, and without a second thought, brought the cup to his lips and swallowed the contents. The burn of alcohol in his nose and throat stung, and he coughed. Ilya smiled, a hint of fondness in the expression, and poured Shane a second shot.
“Okay,” began Shane, aware that Luca was still waiting for a reply. “Um. Okay. So… I guess, do you want to? Do that?”
Luca’s face suggested that he thought this was a stupid question, but he was polite enough not to say so, and simply responded, “well, yeah.”
“Okay, cool. Um, so, what… I mean, have you ever done that before?”
“No.” Luca said frankly. “I mean, not as a top, anyway.”
Shane emptied his cup for the second time. It burned less going down than the first one. He refused to look at the three dickheads sitting across from him who were barely attempting to hide their delight at his expense. Shane shifted uncomfortably.
“And, he hasn’t…?”
“No, not at all.”
“So, uh, what… part are you confused about?” Shane wanted to die. Maybe he had died, and was in hell right now. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than continuing to have this discussion right now. Luca’s face had gradually shifted over the last few minutes, and he now looked as if he deeply regretted choosing Shane for this conversation.
Harris took pity on both of them and came to the rescue.
“Look, Luca— correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing you aren’t asking about the, uh, logistics. You just want to make sure he has a good time?”
Luca turned towards him. His face cleared and he nodded, visibly relieved. “Yes, exactly.”
Oh, thought Shane. Yeah, that makes more sense.
“Okay, well, don’t overthink it,” said Harris. “Seriously. It's different for everyone, so just follow his lead, and pay attention to what he’s telling you.”
“Check in with him,” Troy chimed in. “At the beginning, but also like, keep checking in. And don't take it personally if he's not into it, or whatever. Oh, and definitely don't do that porn thing where you just start going like a jackhammer. Unless he, like, tells you he's into that, I guess.”
Luca looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Well, yeah— no offense guys, but isn’t this all kind of obvious?”
“It should be, yeah,” Troy muttered, his face darkening for a brief moment.
“Oh my god, and maybe you all should tell him next to make sure that they take their clothes off first,” groaned Ilya. “Just in case he doesn't know how sex works.”
Luca glanced at Ilya. “Yeah. I mean, obviously I’m going to make sure he’s, like, safe and comfortable,” he said, sounding annoyed. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“You like this guy, and you want him to have the best sex of his life so no one else ever compares to you, Mr. Sex God Luca Haas,” nodded Ilya with a grin. “And yet you ask these three idiots, when I am standing right here?”
Luca, apparently made brave by the several shots of vodka he’d consumed by this point, rolled his eyes.
“Fine, okay then, Roz. If you think you can do better, go ahead. Give me your best advice.”
Ilya poured another measure of vodka into his own cup, downed it, shrugged, and with an air of nonchalance, said “Is simple. Do what those guys said, obviously. Take your time at first, don’t rush it. Not just for his comfort, but because it will get him impatient, you know? Use your mouth. Make him needy. Don’t go too fast until you find the angle that makes him forget how to say words, and then you fuck him exactly like that until he cums hands-free. If you do that, he’ll be yours forever, trust me.”
“Oh fuck off!” Shane sputtered before he could think better of it.
“What? It worked on you!” Ilya made no attempt to hide the delight in his voice that Shane had taken the bait. Shane’s cheeks flushed, and emboldened by the liquor, he shot back,
“Alright, but Haasy should also make sure that he doesn't completely ignore his guy for six months afterwards. Because only a complete fucking asshole would do that.”
Harris winced. Ilya tilted his head in slight concession. “Yes, probably don’t do that. You have to be very good in bed to come back from something like that.”
“Damn, Hollander,” muttered Troy. “Six months of radio silence and you went back to him? Does his dick grant magic wishes or something?”
“Mm, in a sense, yes,” answered Ilya.
“Fuck off, I hate all of you so fucking much.” growled Shane.
Luca looked around the group like a man who was discovering in real time that his childhood heroes were all actually massive losers.
“You know what, Hollander? I think you were right. This was the wrong group of people to ask for advice.” He turned towards the house.
“Haas, wait,” Ilya stepped forward and raised his hands in a placating gesture. He threw an arm around Luca’s shoulders and adopted a more serious tone.
“I will be serious, okay?”
Luca sighed. “Fine. Two minutes, then I'm leaving.”
“It won't take long. You like this guy, yes?”
“Yeah, obviously,” Luca nodded.
“You like him a lot.” Ilya didn’t voice it as a question, but Luca nodded again. His expression softened.
“I do.”
“You want him to maybe be your boyfriend?”
Luca didn’t answer, but he smiled.
“And” continued Ilya, all traces of laughter gone from his voice, “you think maybe some day, you might love him?”
Luca’s face flushed to a deep pink and his gaze dropped to the floor. He shrugged, then quietly answered, “I don’t know. I think… it’s still so early, but… yeah, I think maybe I could.” A shy smile played at the corner of his lips.
Shane watched Ilya closely. The bravado and amusement was gone from his face. Instead, Shane saw a look that was normally reserved for him alone. Ilya’s face grew softer, his eyes more tender, and when he spoke, his voice was low, gentle, and reassuring. Shane’s irritation began to melt away; he reluctantly tried to hold onto it but knew it was a lost cause. It slipped through his fingers like water. Goddamn Ilya. The man could get away with just about anything, and he knew it.
Ilya went on.
“Okay, here is what you do. You think maybe there is a chance that one day you will look at him and love him, yes? Then tonight, you just treat him like you already do.”
“Who knows?” Ilya continued. “He may become your boyfriend. Someday, he may even be your husband, so you take care of him the way you would want your future husband to be taken care of. He’s trusting you with this, so show him he was right to trust you. That way you won’t have to worry about looking back ten years later and regretting all the things you could have done better.”
Oh.
“Damn, Roz,” murmured Troy softly. “That’s kind of fuckin romantic.”
Ilya chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”
Shane was aware of a small lump forming in his throat. Luca murmured something to Ilya, but Shane was no longer interested in anything besides Ilya. His gorgeous, perfect, devoted, amazing, asshole husband. Ilya grinned and gave Luca an encouraging clap on the shoulder, signaling a decisive end to the conversation before gently shoving him in the direction of the house. Shane was dimly aware of Harris and Barrett quietly retreating to some private corner of the backyard, hands entwined. He didn't care; he only had eyes for Ilya.
+++
At some point, someone had thankfully usurped control of the sound system from Dykstra and his awful music, and after an hour or so of upbeat party music provided by the younger members of the team, the mood had mellowed. Here and there, couples had started to break away from larger groups to dance, stroll through the garden, or cozy up together on some of Bood’s various pieces of comfortable outdoor furniture.
“You know I loved our first time together, right?” murmured Shane in Ilya’s ear as they swayed back and forth to a soft, crooning love song.
Ilya hummed. “Mm, yes. I know you enjoyed it. I always make sure you have a good time.”
“Then what did you mean earlier?”
Ilya met his gaze. “I meant everything else. Not the sex. I meant I wish I would have stayed. I wish I had changed the sheets for you. I wish I had spent all night holding you in my arms and kissing your freckles over and over. I wish I had forced myself to talk to you, really, about all the things that scared me about you and how much I wanted you anyway.”
Affection spread through Shane’s body. He pulled Ilya closer and nuzzled his cheek against Ilya’s neck.
“That’s really sweet, Ilya.”
“I mean it.”
Shane chuckled softly in spite of himself.
“Well, it’s probably a good thing you didn’t. I mean… I was like, three years away from even admitting I was gay. I think I would have run away from my own apartment.”
It was Ilya’s turn to laugh. He gently caressed the back of Shane’s neck with his thumb and pressed his lips against his temple. “Yes, maybe you're right.”
“Well,” mused Shane, “Maybe it would have sped up our timeline by a few years. Maybe we could have saved ourselves some heartache.”
Suddenly, Ilya pulled back and dramatically slapped a hand to his forehead. “I forgot to tell Luca- absolutely no tuna melts under any circumstances! It will only end in disaster!” he lamented.
“I wouldn't say disaster.”
“No? It was a good date then, with the tuna melts and panic attacks?”
Shane laughed, “I just mean, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Really?” Ilya looked at him skeptically.
“Okay,” admitted Shane with a laugh. “Fine, I'd be tempted to change a few things. Get us to figure our shit out a few years earlier. But… no. I love us. Our story. It’s not perfect but it’s ours. It got us here, didn't it?”
Ilya didn't answer. Instead, he gently took hold of Shane’s chin and pulled him in for a lingering kiss.
“Let's go home, дорогой. I want to show you exactly what I should have done that night in Montreal all those years ago.”