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Scott Fucking Hunter, twenty years past retirement age and yet still somehow not sent to the glue factory, has brought his much younger boyfriend to this year's All-Star Game in Phoenix. The two of them are sitting by the pool laughing together. Disgusting.
"Problematic," Ilya says, savoring the word. He learned it from Svetlana. She uses it when she wants to intimidate weak men.
"Fuck, Rozanov, you can't say that," says one of Shane's irritating teammates. It is not clear why he is still sitting with them at the bar - everyone knows Shane and Ilya are friends now, there is no need to guard Shane's honor from the terrifying Russian monster who haunts all of Montreal's dreams.
"Not because he is gay." Ilya talks as if to a child. "Because Scott Hunter is seven million years old. It's not right. He should not be with someone so young."
Shane throws him a tiny, perfect smirk. "When Scott Hunter was his age, he wasn't even born."
"Exactly! You get it, Hollander," Ilya says, using the excuse to throw an arm around Shane's shoulders. "We must stage intervention. Cannot let nice young man be cradle-snatched."
"Where did you learn cradle-snatched?" Shane mutters, but he's standing as he says it, easily letting himself be pulled along.
"What can I say?" Ilya says. "Scott Hunter is good for my English. Problematic. Cradle-snatcher. Mummified corpse. I learn many words to understand him."
It is still a risk, approaching Scott Hunter like this. They are not out. They cannot be out. They cannot appear hostile to the gays but they cannot appear too friendly, either. But this is a matter of honor. Scott Hunter's much, much younger boyfriend must be warned.
Hunter and his boyfriend are sitting on the side of the pool, legs in the water, each holding a beer. They look like a tasteful gay picture postcard.
Ilya sits down beside them, pulling Shane down with him. They can all dangle their legs in the pool like children.
"Kip, yes?" Ilya says, holding out his hand to Kip Grady to shake. "I am Ilya. This is Shane. We are here for intervention."
To his credit, Grady doesn't hesitate to shake his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Ilya, Shane." Only a slight widening of his eyes hints at anything other than a nice young man meeting some of his boyfriend's colleagues at a work event, or so Ilya imagines.
"Is serious matter," Ilya says. Then, because he is not actually a monster, he winks at Grady, clear and friendly. "You seem like a nice man. Handsome. Smart. Not old enough to claim state pension. Is he blackmailing you? Just blink twice and we can get you out."
"The joke is that I'm old," Hunter says flatly.
"It's not a joke," Shane says. He dials his Good Earnest Canadian Boy up to 100. Ilya loves him so much. "We're worried for you. You could do so much better. He's a million years old."
Grady snorts. "He's not that old."
Hunter's face suggests he was expecting more of a protest. Good. He will be taken unprepared.
"He is that old," Ilya says. "You like hockey players?" He gestures expansively at the players around them. "We can get you hockey players."
There are a few eyes on them - some curious, some wary. Not everyone knows how to act around Gay Scott Hunter And His Gay Boyfriend, and not everyone trusts Ilya to know how to do so, either.
"Ones that don't remember the War of 1812," Shane adds.
Ilya can't help his snort of laughter. "Good one, Hollander," he says to cover the way his heart just swelled in his chest.
"What the fuck are you guys doing?" Hunter says. It's a very grandpa thing to say. "If you guys-" And then he stops, and very visibly reconsiders what he's going to say.
Ilya is 80% sure Scott Hunter knows. Maybe 85%. This right here is a dangerous game, but the reward is to sit side by side with Shane in public, and the risk is only risky if Hunter is much more of an asshole than his track record suggests.
"Ah, fuck it," Hunter says. He kicks his gnarled old-man feet in the water. "Have your fun."
"Thank you, Grandpa," Ilya says, meaning it more than he would like. Beside him, Shane has gone very still.
Grady looks between them all. Ilya does not want to think about what exactly Kip Grady knows or doesn't know.
"Is it, uh," Shane says. Stops. Starts again. "Do you like old guys? Is that it? We can get you old guys."
"Nice old guys," Ilya agrees. "Nice old guys with dicks that work and faces you don't itch to punch."
"I kind of like my old guy," Grady says. He nudges Hunter with his shoulder, the kind of thing boyfriends can do in public without anyone even noticing. "He's hot."
"Hot?" Ilya says. "No. I am hot. Hollander, he is maybe hot if you squint. Hunter, he is mummified. Like corpse you find in pyramid. Or bog."
"I'm like three years older than you," Hunter says to Grady.
"Three hundred," Shane mutters. It is so embarrasing how much Ilya likes him.
Ilya leans forward confidingly. "You should ask to see his papers. Birth certificate, social security. Harder to fake."
Grady turns to Hunter. "Is this elder abuse?"
"I don't even know why I bother," Hunter says, looking up to the heavens dramatically. "I need a swim."
"Very good for aging joints," Ilya says as if they don't all have the joints of seventy-year-olds. Well, not Hunter. He has the joints of a fossil.
"Fuck you," Hunter says cheerfully. "You coming, Kip?"
Grady drops a kiss on Hunter's lips, casual and happy. "Sounds good."
Well. That was fun. Ilya gives them a little wave. Shane, too Canadian to live, says, "Nice to meet you."
Hunter and his boyfriend put down their beers and slip gracefully into the pool. It is too crowded for them to swim properly, but they set off anyway, dodging players' children and the occasional exhuberant rookie. They look natural together. Happy.
"I don't think that worked," Ilya says mock-sadly.
"No. But we tried," Shane says. "Poor guy. Too blinded by love to see he's dating the oldest man alive."
Ilya laughs harder than the joke deserves. Scott Fucking Hunter may be older than the dinosaurs, but Ilya has to give him this: At least he's old enough to kiss his man in public.
"My room tonight?" he asks quietly.
"Yeah." Shane drains the last of his beer. "Or your room right now?"