Chapter Text
If someone had told Scott a year ago that his top five favorite people would include Ilya Rozanov, he would’ve laughed in their face. And if someone had told him that he would be regularly hanging out at The Kingfisher with Ilya Rozanov, he would’ve had a heart attack. Yet, here he is drinking beers with Ilya and fuck… having fun.
He glances up to see Ilya at the bar ordering another drink from Kyle while interrupting whatever conversation Carter and Eric were having.
Through his drunken haze, Scott makes a list of his favorite friends. Would Ilya actually be in the top five?
- Kip Grady (his fiancé, of course)
- Carter Vaughn (his best friend)
- Eric Bennet (his other best friend)
- Kyle Swift (by proxy, see above)
- Ilya Rozanov (because fuck, he has a little brother now. Or maybe son? He doesn’t know, sometimes it’s one, sometimes it’s the other. Whatever, they’re family. Kip, Kyle, and Shawn had said something about queer people just adopting other queer people? Scott doesn’t know, he just nods along and assumes they’re right about anything gay related.)
Yep, there he was. In spot number 5, only under Kyle because it felt rude not to pair him directly under Eric. Unless Eric and Kyle shared a spot because they were a couple. Which would bump Ilya up to number 4.
“Hunter,” Ilya’s voice cuts through his current ranking activity. He slides back into the booth carrying another glass of vodka. “You look like you are thinking too hard. Hah hard.”
Scott rolls his eyes, “You’re a child.”
“Mmmm no,” Ilya shakes his head. “You are just very old. What was it like to live during the Ice Age? Did you have a pet mammoth?” He laughs at his own chirp.
Scott finds it oddly endearing the way Ilya chooses which people to chirp. He would never chirp Kip because (as Ilya puts it) Kip is too good to be chirped at.
Kip was unfortunately working an event so he wasn’t there to witness any of the Admirals drunken states. But Ilya was taking a ton of pictures and video and live texting him, so it evened out a bit. Not that Kip could actually be on his phone, but it was the thought that counted.
Ilya laughs, downing another glass of vodka and clings to Scott like a koala. “I wish I could bring Jane here.”
“Why can’t you?” Scott asks and flags Kyle over motioning for water. Ilya is past the point of tipsy and firmly in the territory of very drunk. Which means that Scott is deciding to be slightly responsible by trying to sober up. Well, sober up enough that they don’t both need assistance in getting back up to Scott’s penthouse.
Ilya frowns a little, “Is not… he would not like this.”
“Oh, no?”
“Is not his type of place. Too…” Ilya waves a hand sadly, “...public.”
Scott hums in sympathy. Kip would relate more than he can. It still fills him with guilt sometimes, to think about all the times that he was too scared to go out in public with Kip. The times he’d run and leave Kip alone to deal with the aftermath. And he hates that Ilya is in that position.
“I’m sorry,” Scott ruffles Ilya’s hair, “That’s a rough spot to be in.”
Ilya sighs, “He does not like to be seen with me.”
Scott’s heart breaks a little more. “Well, maybe the two of you would like to join me and Kip for dinner sometime? Not in public, we can order in or cook at home.”
Ilya hums with a smile, “This would be nice. But I still don’t think he would like. Too many people will know.”
“How many people is too many?”
“Three.”
“Three!?”
“His parents, and his best friend.” Ilya relays mournfully.
That’s… not a lot. Even by Scott’s standards that wasn’t a lot. Before he’d come out, at least all of Kip’s friends and family knew about them.
Kyle comes by with water and coffee placing them in front of Scott.
“Thanks, Kyle.”
“Thank you, Kyle!” Ilya shouts a little louder than necessary. Kyle just nods and walks off to serve the other patrons.
“Ilya,” Scott asks as gently as possible, “Are you okay?”
“Hm?” Ilya looks up at Scott with a goofy grin, “Yes. I’m good! Very good!”
“Well, you’ve had nearly an entire bottle of vodka.”
“Yes, and?”
“It’s alot.”
“I am Russian. This is nothing.”
Scott barks a laugh, “You’re drunk, Rozanov. That’s not nothing!”
“Is nothing!” Ilya argues back and then mumbles softly, “I miss Jane.”
“I’m sure he misses you too.”
Ilya starts to doze on Scott's shoulder which means it’s time to go. “Ilya,” He nudges the Russian. “We’re going home now.”
“Okey,” he grumbles and snuggles further into Scott’s shoulder.
“No, that means get up now.”
Ilya grumbles and forces his eyes open and pulls away from Scott with a pout. He starts to lean to the other side but Scott catches him and guides him out of the booth. Ilya finishes his glass and hands it off to Kyle while Scott closes their tab and texts his fiancé.
Scott
Hey babe, we’re heading home now
Kip
Perfect timing!
I just got off, can I pick you up?
Scott
We’re at the Kingfisher
Kip
Lol, I know
Ilya keeps texting me
Be there in 15
Scott
Of course he is
Drive safe
See you soon!
Love you!
“Rozanov, come on.” Scott ends up slipping a hand around Ilya’s waist to steady him while they wait for Kip to swing by and pick them up.
“Oooo,” Ilya teases and pokes Scott’s side, “You’re touching another man!”
Scott holds back a groan, even when drunk Ilya manages to be painfully immature. “Please,” Scott groans, “You’re hardly another man. I have no interest in sleeping with you.”
“Mmm, good!” Ilya attempts to push back but only succeeds in crashing further into Scott. “We are not porn category.”
Scott snorts, “Dare I ask what porn category you’re talking about?”
“Incest!” Ilya exclaims proudly. It’s so loud that the unfortunate people passing by give them judging and uncomfortable looks. But deep down, there’s a swell of warmth in Scott’s heart. Whether or not Ilya would admit or realize it, he’d just acknowledged what he really thinks of Scott. And fuck, now his eyes have gone misty.
“Yeah,” Scott laughs, “because you’re my favorite little brother.”
Ilya smiles and drunkenly nuzzles against him like a damn puppy. “Better than Alexei.” He mumbles in Russian.
The car pulls up and Kip rolls down the window with a grin. “Going my way, handsome?”
Scott gives him an amused sigh, and pulls open the back door shoving Ilya inside before climbing into the passenger seat. “Hi baby,” He kisses Kip.
“Hi,” Kip beams back and starts driving them home, “Looks like you had a fun night.”
“Yes!” Ilya grins, leaning as far forward as his seatbelt allows. “Is very nice to be around more queer people.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Kip smiles peering into the rearview mirror to see Ilya more clearly, “There’s really something special about being surrounded by a community of safe people.”
Ilya sighs wistfully and leans back in his seat. “I will be like you one day.”
“You will, kid.” Scott does his best to sound encouraging. “You’ll get there, I promise.”
When they arrive home, Ilya is somehow more drunk than when they left. It takes all of Scott's self control not to dump Ilya on the floor the second the door is open. But he won’t, because he’s not a dick.
“Come on,” Scott groans and heft’s Ilya into his room. His room being the guest room that they ended up converting to Ilya’s room. He’d stayed with them for a couple weeks the previous year and those couple weeks were enough for Ilya to solidify himself as a part of their life.
Scott doesn’t think Ilya can manage a shower, that just seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. So he just removes Ilya’s shoes and lays him on the bed.
“Boo!” Ilya cries and struggles to take his shirt off. “My Jane says no outside clothes on the bed.”
Scott laughs, “Your Jane has you whipped.”
Ilya sags to the side and lets out a deep sigh, “You have no idea.” He sits back up and keeps trying to tug the shirt off.
“Need help with that?” Scott snorts.
Ilya responds by lifting his arms up and pouting. “Off.”
Scott can’t stop the laughs as he wanders over and helps Ilya tug his shirt off. He sucks in a sharp breath. Ilya’s skin is covered in ugly purple blotches and deep angry scratches along his back.
“Ilya,” Scott breathes, “Who did this to you.”
Ilya frowns and flops backwards onto the bed. “Mmmmm, can’t say.” He jumps upright. “Pants! No jeans on bed! It’s rules!” He fumbles with his belt. “Off! Off! Stupid buckle!” His eyes go up to Scott, watering.
“How the fuck is he doing that?” Scott wonders with growing concern.
“It’s not coming off,” Ilya whispers on the verge of tears. “He’s gonna get mad if I sleep in jeans.”
Alarms start to go off in Scott’s head. “Does he get mad often?” He asks, prying for a bit more information.
Ilya keeps tugging at his buckle, “Only if I do dumb stuff.”
“What constitutes dumb stuff?”
“What is that word? Con-stee-toot?”
“Uh, what makes it dumb?”
Ilya shrugs and doesn’t answer. He flops backwards on the bed again and tugs at his belt again. “Get off!”
Scott gives in, “If I help you take it off, can you promise not to say anything gross?”
Ilya nods and pulls his hands away.
“Fuck,” Scott mutters and reaches for Ilya’s belt.
Immediately, the younger man grins and says, “If you want to suck-”
“Rozanov!” Scott scolds, “Do you want to be out of the jeans or not?”
Ilya pouts and says silent while Scott undoes the buckle.
“Button please?” He pleads politely.
Scott lets out another sigh and undoes the button before stepping back. “Better?”
Ilya shimmies out of his pants and grins letting the pants just pool on the floor. “Shane would say ‘Tell Scott ‘thank you’ Ilya.’ So I say thank you, Hunter. You are nice for dinosaur.” He curls into the duvet.
The name does not go unnoticed, nor do the additional bruises decorating on Ilya’s legs. Scott decides to ask about the bruises first. “How did you get the bruises, Ilya?”
Ilya says something to the covers that he doesn’t quite catch.
“Hey,” Scott sits on the bed next to him and places a warm hand on his shoulder, “Can you roll over and talk to me, kid? Just for a little bit and then I’ll let you go to sleep.”
Ilya mumbles something and then he rolls over. “Okay.”
“Can you tell me about the bruises? With this many, you should’ve been playing tonight.”
“Had worse,” Ilya sleepily answers. “Fell off a ladder.”
Scott’s heart sinks to his stomach. “You fell off a ladder?”
“Mmhmm,” Ilya nods and yawns. “Shane was very mad at me for it.”
“Shane?” Scott pries, “Hollander?” He’s always suspected, but Ilya basically just confirmed it.
“Mmmm, yes,” Ilya whispers and then brings his finger to his lips, “Shhhh. Is secret. No one can know. Can I sleep now?”
Scott nods and gently rubs Ilya’s arm. “Yeah. You can sleep now.”
Ilya nods, rolls over, and starts snoring almost immediately.
Scott just sits there with his hand on Ilya’s shoulder. He doesn’t want to let go. How can he when this boy with such a tough exterior is hurting so much.
Fuck, it’s worse than he thought. And Ilya just openly admitted to Hollander abusing him. Who knew under that ‘golden boy’ facade, he was a monster? But then again, it made sense. When Hollander dropped gloves to fight him, it was over Ilya. Their rivalry too, it makes sense.
And Ilya… Ilya probably confessed his crush to Hollander and then the Canadian just took advantage of Ilya’s kindness and fears. Scott is going to kill him. He needs to make sure that Hollander stops hurting Ilya.
Scott stands and fixes the blanket, draping gently over Ilya’s damaged body. “I’ll help you, I promise.” He whispers to the sleeping boy and places a soft kiss into his hair. “You’re going to be okay.”