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The bar was crowded and packed with the Ottawa Centaurs, celebrating their victory in the first game of the season. Some loud song with heavy bass was playing in the background, and the amber lights dimly lit the room. The hockey game had been playing on the televisions at the bar, which drew a large crowd of people who didn't get tickets to see the game in person. The tickets had been sold out in record time, only shortly after the game was announced. It was a historical game: the first time Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov had played on the same team in the NHL.
"To Shane and Ilya!" Harris shouted, raising his glass in the air.
"To Centaurs!" Ilya toasted after him, drinking his entire glass.
The team finished their drinks and hung out around a few central tables, being heralded like heroes by bargoers. Boodram was talking animatedly about how he'd helped Shane score a goal to a girl listening with wide eyes. Everyone was happy, and Ilya was thankful there were no lost-looking rookies he'd have to include for once.
"Shane. We should play pool!" Ilya grinned at his husband, who looked nervously towards the pool table.
"Ilya, I don't know if that's a good idea. That guy looks pretty good."
Ilya turned his head to look. The guy was wearing a dark jacket and blue jeans, and he did indeed win, shooting the 8 ball successfully. He accepted a wad of cash from his opponent, who begrudgingly gave it up.
"Is challenge." Shane rolled his eyes, but Ilya continued. "But we are rich. Lots of money to play with. And I have never lost pool game."
"If it'll shut you up, fine." Shane tried hiding his smile, but failed. The two of them walked over to meet the guy, who was talking to two other men in the corner. One of them was wearing an old t-shirt, and the other was wearing a tan trenchcoat and making what Ilya would definitely call heart eyes at the pool guy.
"Hello!" Ilya introduced himself loudly. "I want to play against you."
The man looked shocked for a second, and then grinned. "Sure. How much do you wanna bet?"
Ilya thought for a moment. "One thousand."
The man who was wearing a t-shirt gasped. "Dean, don't—"
"Sam, it's fine. I'll beat him." The man—Dean, apparently—reached out to shake Ilya's hand and winked at the man wearing a trenchcoat.
The game began, and Ilya decided to chat with his opponent. "So, what do you do?"
"For work?"
"Yes, for work."
"Well, I used to travel around the states a lot. I'm retired now, though."
"Oh, really?" Ilya lined up to take another shot.
"Yep. We moved here because, well, we felt safer here."
"We?" Ilya inquired. He had a feeling he knew who Dean was talking about, but he wanted to be sure.
"Oh, me and Cas." He smiled, not even trying to hide it as he looked towards the man in the trenchcoat.
Ilya stood back and watched Dean shoot another ball into a pocket.
"What do you do for a living?" Dean asked.
"I play hockey for NHL with my husband, Shane Hollander." Ilya said proudly. Calling Shane his husband had taken some getting used to, but it was one of his favorite things to do. He subconsciously touched the ring that sat next to his mother's cross on his necklace and looked over towards Shane, who was talking with Cas.
"Oh. . . Oh my God, you're Ilya Rozanov, right?"
"Yes." He grinned.
"Holy shit, dude. That's crazy. Do you know Scott Hunter?"
Ilya rolled his eyes dramatically and groaned. "Ugh, yes. He is so old, I do not know how nursing home lets him play hockey."
Dean laughed. "Remember when he kissed that guy after winning the cup?"
"Yes," Ilya said softly. "Fuck!" He exclaimed as the ball stopped right in front of the pocket.
"Well," Dean said, getting ready to take his turn. "It was really brave. Made me tell Cas I liked him. We're getting married this winter." He grinned, and Ilya caught a glimpse of a shiny, silver ring around his ring finger.
"Congratulations!" Ilya said, smiling genuinely. He lowered his voice slightly, becoming more serious. "If Hunter had not done that, Shane and I would not be together, either." He looked over at Shane and Cas, who were both leaning against the wall, watching their husband and apparently fiance, while Sam accepted a drink from a pretty brunette girl who entwined their hands together.
"Ha! Pay up!" Dean shot the 8 ball into a pocket, and held his hand out to Ilya.
"Fuck you." Ilya grumbled, pulling out a wad of cash and counting it. He knew it wasn't smart to carry a bunch of money, but he didn't care. "Shane!" He shouted over. "Do you have two hundred dollars?"
Shane groaned and walked over to Ilya, handing him the money.
"Thank you, sweetheart." Ilya kissed him and handed the money to Dean, who slipped it in his pocket. He redirected his attention to Dean while holding Shane's hand. "Good game."
"Good game." Dean echoed.
"Do you want to exchange numbers?" Ilya asked him. "We could do a—fuck, Shane, what is word?"
"Double date?" Shane suggested.
"Yes, that."
"Sure, mine's—Oh, hey, sunshine." Cas walked up behind Dean and hugged him.
"I gave Shane my number." He kissed Dean's lips gently and rested his head on Dean's shoulder. "He suggested we do a double date."
"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Dean and Ilya traded phones to enter their numbers in.
As the night went on, the three couples found themselves in a circular booth, talking about hockey, love, and hunting, which was apparently something you could do for a living.