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"Mister Hunter."
"Shut up and focus on the game Rozanov."
"Or should I call you Capitaine Hunter?"
Scott didn't dignify that with a response. He'd long since learned giving Rozanov any sort of reaction only made his chirps worse, instead he kept his head lowered and waited for the puck to drop.
"You are still behind Hunter, will need lots of goals to catch up to us. I am thinking of where to take team later to celebrate our win, you know somewhere? The boys enjoy a drink after winning and as Captain-"
Scott zoned out of the one sided conversation the Russian was trying to bait him with, he was more focused on what he was going to send Hollander later, an apology and explanation of sorts for his comment on the ice. He knew he shouldn't have said it as soon as the words left his mouth, Shane's face froze and fear bloomed in his eyes right in front of him; but before he could say anything to correct it the younger man had already gone into defence mode, hurling any insult that came to mind and getting dragged off the ice by their respective teammates.
When he got home after the game (that they ended up losing anyway) Kip asked him what he'd said that made Hollander get so worked up to actually start a fight, and since Scott would rather cut off his foot than lie to his boyfriend he told him everything. Needless to say he had some serious making up to do to Kip as well.
"The Kingfisher, you have heard of it?"
Scott snapped his head up to look at Rozanov for the first time tonight and quickly realised why he'd been avoiding doing so. He looked like a barely contained animal, more so than usual, a fire burning behind his eyes that made it difficult for Scott to hold his gaze.
"What?" He was breathless, skin a clammy mess as Rozanov brushed the sweat from his top lip, a cruel smirk appearing behind his glove.
"Or I might head out for breakfast in the morning, I see this place on Google, Straw and Berry. Is nice?"
Hunter couldn't answer, he imagined this is how Shane felt the other night. Floor dropping out from beneath you as the very real possibility someone knew about a part of yourself you thought was locked away was brutally shoved in your face.
"Hollander is in town for team get together tomorrow night and he has boring smoothie before workout. They have very popular one he would like, 'Blue Moon Over Brooklyn'. You tried it Hunter?"
"Rozanov." Scott couldn't stop the plea in his voice.
"I think you have. I think you tried something else from smoothie shop that you like even more."
The puck dropped and Scott's stomach dropped with it. His knees barely supported him as he spun just in time to see Ilya smash the puck into their goal, the Boston fans in the crowd lighting up to a deafening level. The boys in black were jumping on their Captain, unable to believe the success they were having against the Admirals but Hunter could only see the cruel smirk that never left the Raider's face.
Ilya caught sight of the Admirals' Captain still standing in the same spot he left him in and sent him a mocking smile that was all teeth.
Dlya tebya, Sheyn. For you, Shane.
The final buzzer sounded and each Captain was standing on their respective sides, Ilya giving his team their individual I love you's while Scott could barely mumble a good game to his boys.
The hadn't scored for the rest of the match.
"Hey Hunter!" Rozanov called as Scott made to step off the ice after his team. He forced himself to glance at the Russian who was skating over to him.
Ilya slapped him on the shoulder the wrong side of too hard, it looked like a conciliatory pat on the back to the crowd and the commentators but Scott knew better. "3144."
"Get the fuck off me Rozanov." Anger was easier to focus on than the way his hands shook and sweat pooled beneath his uniform. Scott tried to shake him off but the Russian retained a tight grip on his shoulder.
"My hotel room. 8 o'clock, don't be late."
He didn't give the Admirals' Captain a chance to rebuff, just slapped him once more on the back to revel in the rage building on the man's face and skated back to follow his own players to their locker room.
.
At 7:59pm Scott knocked the door. He'd showered and changed, done some shitty media interviews and sent Kip another apology text and explained why he was going to be late home tonight. Just as he was checking his phone for a reply the door swung open and Rozanov gestured him inside with a toss of his head.
The lock had barely clicked into place when Scott whirled around and began his, frankly embarrassing, imploring speech he'd made up on his way over.
"Look Rozanov I know I've clearly pissed you off and I scared Hollander the other night but you can't do anything to Kip, okay? He's got nothing to do with this and he's honestly more pissed at me than you are so don't say anything that would hurt him. Please."
"So he has a name." Ilya pushed himself off the wall he was leant against and rounded Hunter, a sick satisfaction running through him as he saw Scott follow him to the other side of the kitchen island, tracking every move he made.
"I know I need to talk to Shane and I will, I was just figuring out what to say, what I could possibly say to make this better. I would never out a player and I know you know I would never do that considering my...situation-"
"You seem to think you know a lot Hunter-"
"But, I also know that's how it sounded on the night. To Shane."
Ilya's face didn't change. The blank expression he wore remained like a brick wall as he listened to Scott make his case. Of course he knew Hunter wasn't like the Dallas Kent's of hockey and Ilya's little comment the night before had made Shane's chirp the straw that broke the camel's back.
But Scott didn't know that Shane had declined three of Ilya's calls because he was too paralysed from a panic attack that he couldn't reach for his phone, he didn't know that when Shane eventually uncurled his hands from fists and answered Ilya he couldn't speak for the first 20 minutes of their call because he was too focused on the way his nails had dug into his palms until they'd bled. He didn't know that Ilya had flown from Boston to Montreal at 1 o'clock in the morning because he was so scared Shane would do something drastic if he was left alone.
So yes, he might've known Scott meant no harm. But that doesn't excuse how threatened he made Shane feel or the three attempts at ending their arrangement Ilya had to talk him down from.
Eventually, once he'd left Hunter to stew for long enough, he shrugged.
"I might know this. I might know that your situation makes you think you couldn't ever be threat to Shane. I know that you are all bark no bite Hunter. But Hollander doesn't. He thinks you will out him to entire hockey world and ruin his career because of fucking chirp about you being old man."
"Ilya, I wouldn't-"
"I know, I just said this, your hearing is getting worse too?"
Scott dropped his head and tried to keep his breathing steady. The anger he so desperately tried to hold onto withered into a guilty rock that sunk to the bottom of his stomach.
"Talk to Hollander. Fix this, sooner rather than later." Ilya told him in no uncertain terms.
Okay, he could do that. He knew he could do that. But he just had to make sure-
"You're not gonna tell anyone about..."
"Oh my god Hunter you are so annoying. No, I will not tell anyone about you and Kip, I am not asshole like you."
"I'm sorry, Ilya. I swear I'll make this right."
"No, don't apologise to me Hunter, is not me you threatened. Which is a good thing, for your sake."
Scott nodded and bolstered himself to leave. He knew what he had to do; ask if Shane would meet him (or at the very least call him), explain what was going through his head and his own situation and round it out with an apology. He should probably buy Kip some flowers or something too.
"See you around Rozanov."
Ilya, who had opened a KitKat and was demolishing it finger by finger, followed him to the door, in case it wasn't clear his time was up. "I hope not."
Scott couldn't help but shake his head, still acting like an asshole, and opened the door to leave.
Straight into Shane Hollander.
Shane, who had obviously not been expecting to see anyone come out of Rozanov's room, much less the Admirals' Captain, stuttered for a minute before stepping to the side allowing Scott to pass him.
"Uh, Shane look, I'm sorry for the other night. It was a shitty move and I shouldn't have said it." Not exactly what he had mind but he was thinking on his toes so it was better than nothing.
"It's cool, I shouldn't have chirped." Both men ignored the Boston Captain rolling his eyes in the doorway.
"No no, its part of the game. You played well, you deserved the win."
"Well you were great too-"
"Okey, goodbye Hunter! Kiss Kip goodnight from me and get out of my hotel now."
Ilya unceremoniously pushed Scott further out the door and took a fistful of Shane's hoodie to pull him into his room, cursing his 'stupid Canadian politeness' as the door slammed shut once again and the sound of a lock clicking echoed in the hallway.
One apology down, one to go.
.
Scott drove Kip to work the next day; after an evening of grovelling and telling Kip all about his meet with Rozanov they seemed to have settled back into their happy place. Since it was early there were no customers and Kip was the only worker in Straw+Berry for a good hour, Scott leant over the counter and gave his boyfriend a long, wet goodbye kiss, promising to text him through the day and come and see him in a few hours to get his smoothie.
The bell above the door sounded separating the men, Kip straightening into work mode (which Scott found distressingly hot) while Scott got himself together to head to practice.
"Hi, how can I help you?" Kip greeted brightly, far too brightly for 7 in the morning.
"Good morning, we would like smoothie please. A disgustingly healthy one that makes you feel miserable just looking at it."
Scott's body went cold.
"Shut up," a soft smack sounded in the open space, "I'll have the blue moon over Brooklyn please."
"With extra banana Hollander." That voice whispered.
"With an extra banana please."
"Great choice, coming right up!"
Scott turned to see it was true, Ilya and Shane were both here (one looking decidedly more pleased with himself than the other) and they were ordering a smoothie. Scott's smoothie, exactly how he liked it.
"Shane."
"Scott."
"Rozanov."
"Hunter."
"What are you doing here?"
"Is a smoothie bar, yes? We came to get smoothie for Hollander before going to hotel gym."
"And the hotel didn't have anything agreeable to you?"
"I didn't actually ask to get one, Rozanov pulled me out of bed 10 minutes ago and said we had to come to 'the best smoothie shop in New York.'"
"Curtesy of Scott Hunter." Ilya finished. Shane at least had the wherewithal to look bashful now that he realised why Ilya had woken him up this morning with a blowjob and then practically dragged him out of the hotel while he was still trying to tie his shoe.
"I thought you were supposed to hate each other, why are you out getting smoothies together?"
"We're working on our public appearance, just cause we can't-" Shane cut a glance over to Kip who was pretending he couldn't hear over the blender- "we can't be us, doesn't mean we can't be friends."
Scott smiled softly at Hollander, he was happy they were trying to be something more true to themselves, even if it meant getting up at 7 o'clock for a smoothie they didn't need. His smile swiftly dropped when Ilya leant behind Shane to prop his elbows on the counter.
"So, you must be Kip."
"Uh yeah," he chuckled, "and you're Ilya Rozanov."
"Da, and this is Shane Hollander." Ilya reached over to wrap an arm round the Canadian's shoulders, much to his chagrin.
"Ilya." He muttered in admonishment.
"I-I know who you are too, you're a great player."
"Oh, thanks."
It was disgusting how lovingly Ilya roamed his eyes over the boy, hip checking him when he could tell the attention was making him uncomfortable.
"Don't you have practice Hunter?"
"Yes, I do."
Ilya made an exaggeration of looking at his watch then back at Shane with a raised eyebrow. "He will be late."
"No I won't, I'm going now. Just like you two should be."
"Boooo, you are such a killjoy Hunter. Maybe we want to stay and hang out with Kip?"
"Maybe you should get your ass to the gym." Scott suggested in a not-so-suggesting tone of voice. At this point Shane's smoothie was finished and he'd paid, and since Ilya had promised another round in bed before they had to separate for their days ahead he figured he'd take pity on Scott.
"Come on Roz, we need to get going anyway. Bye Kip, it was nice to meet you."
"You too!"
"Bye Kip, if you want better than dinosaur Hunter DM me, I will find nice husband for you."
"Goodbye Ilya."
"Seriously is no problem, I know one already available, he is called Sasha-"
"Rozanov, move!"
Who was Ilya to deny his Shane anything he wanted?
"Goodbye Hunter, next time we play make sure to show up yes? Is more fun if you're there!"
"Go fuck yourself Rozanov!"
Shane had luckily managed to push Ilya out the door, unfortunately he didn't swipe that stupid smug grin off the Russian's face but you can't have everything. A short laugh made Scott look over in betrayal.
"What? They're nice, and seeing you get so worked up is kind of a turn on." Kip shrugged nonchalantly, the blush crawling over his cheeks giving away that he was in fact not feeling nonchalant.
"Oh really?" Scott dropped his voice into what Kip affectionately called his 'Captain voice.'
"Yeah, something to think about until later."
"You coming over later?"
"If that's okay? Dad said he was going out with some friends so we rescheduled for tomorrow night instead so if you wanted to-"
"Absolutely."
"Yeah?" Kip smiled.
"Yeah. I'll pick you up after work, then you can show me just how much you enjoyed seeing me worked up."
"Get out of here Captain Hunter, you've got practice to get to."
"Yes Coach Grady."
Kip shook his head and waved his boyfriend away, allowing him one last kiss before he left. He could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket with an Instagram notification. Once he saw who it was from, he couldn't help but laugh.
From: Rozanov81
This is picture of Sasha, he is bit of an asshole but not bad at sex, will make sure you cum more than once and not fall asleep straight after or need dropping at old people's home. If you are interested tell me, I will give him your number, he is in New York at the moment.
From: ShaneHollander24
Please ignore Rozanov, I tried to stop him from sending you a message but he tripped me over and stole my phone. Tell Scott I'm sorry, I tried.