Chapter Text
They were doing their now traditional post-game meeting of the active queer NHL players (plus Kip, and Harris when he was on the road with the Centaurs) at the Kingfisher which Scott regularly regretted making a tradition. Perfectly proving that this regret was justified, Scott was just taking a sip of his beer when Ilya struck.
"You three must talk more about how good it is to get fucked."
Scott choked on his beer, and Kip leaned over and gave him a few pats to the back as he chuckled. Troy for his part seemed to be turning red, but had not been mid sip when Ilya decided to discuss anal. God, Rozanov was such an asshole.
Scott caught his breath, and croaked, "What?"
"Shane taught me very recently how good it is, it was quite life-changing when he-"
Shane cut in, looking red himself, "We are not talking about that here, Ilya!"
Ilya leaned his head onto Shane's shoulder, cooing, "Awww, but I am so proud of you, solnyshko! Your very first time you were so good I cry-"
"Ilya, this is not how you get me to do it again."
Ilya immediately closed his mouth, just to unfortunately open it again to return to his original topic.
"What I am saying is that you could be using this to shut up assholes on the ice! You all are missing perfect opportunity! We must fight back against homophobes, with fire!"
"Are you trying to say fight fire with fire?"
"Sure! Probably." Ilya took a long sip of his beer and regained his momentum.
"The point is your chirping is sad, and very boring. They try to make fun of us for getting dick, when we should be bragging about getting dick!"
Scott grimaced. "This is really your solution for fixing homophobia in the NHL?"
"Could be solution, or could just be fun! Could even be education! These sad men do not even know what their prostate is! They have not even met it!"
"You hadn't met yours until I introduced you recently." Shane, who had clearly had so many years of Rozanov exposure that he could just roll with this insane conversation, rolled his eyes and casually sipped at his ginger ale. Scott didn't know if he was horrified or jealous.
"Yes, and I am now convert! Speaking good word to others!" Ilya was clearly not letting this go, which was a surprise to no one.
Shane wrinkled his nose. "Ilya, last week you told the Alabama center, and this is a direct quote, 'You are Catholic, right? Getting dicked down feels very religious. I saw God last time Shane fucked me.'"
Kip was laughing so hard he was gasping for air at this point while Scott was regretting every choice that had led him to sitting at this bar with Rozanov. Well, not every choice.
Ilya smiled wistfully, "Ah, I was very proud of that one."
Shane also looked for a moment like he was regretting some choices, but the expression was ruined by the arm around Rozanov's waist and the fond look in his eyes as he looked at Ilya.
Ilya gave a quick peck to his husband's cheek and continued confidently just as Scott decided to brave taking another sip.
"My point is, I know you both do it-"
Scott choked on his beer again, that bastard was definitely doing this on purpose. "How do you know that!?"
Ilya waved a hand dismissively, "Is obvious!"
Shane looked resigned and unsurprised by Ilya's behavior, as did Troy to Scott's surprise. Scott looked over at Troy, and raised a desperate eyebrow at the other member of the table who had successfully hid being gay for a decade who was not named Hollander-Rozanov.
Troy shrugged back. "Unfortunately, he just kind of knows these things."
Ilya grinned, "Yes, yes, I am perceptive! I have gay radar."
Scott felt insane, and Kip was no help next to him as he was too busy giggling to say anything. "Gaydar does not make you able to tell if someone bottoms."
Ilya snorted and looked smug. "Maybe for you it does not."
Scott was feeling distinctly like the conversation had completely spun out of control.
Desperately, he turned to Troy again as Shane was clearly a lost cause since he had married this man and chosen not to divorce him every single day since. "You work with this everyday?"
Troy sighed, and took a long pull of his hard cider. "Unfortunately, he really does grow on you when you're trapped in close quarters with him."
"Like fungus!" Rozanov chirped.
"Ilya, no.”