Chapter Text
"Come on, this will be fun!"
Rose Landry said as she sat down on Shane's dining table with a notebook in her hands.
"Definitely will not be fun if we use my dining table as a desk." Said Shane, still making space for Rose to put her stuff down on the table.
"So you agree, it will be fun otherwise?" said Rose accompanied by a mischievous smile. Shane knew better than to fight her, so he sighed and sat down across his friend.
"We can try and see where it gets us I guess."
Rose clapped her hands happily and opened her notebook.
This all started the week before, when Rose was face-timing Shane about her co-star she had started seeing.
"He is not my usual type, but we get along very well." She said as she was doing her touch-ups before she had to get back on set.
"What is your usual type?" Asked Shane, not knowing this question could turn around and get back to him as quickly as it did.
"Someone down to Earth and aware of their privileges, I think. Someone that is kind but isn't boring, and genuine. Isn't afraid to be himself. Someone like you, kind of. I mean if you weren't gay."
"Jared isn't down to Earth?"
"Not exactly, I mean he isn't a bad person or anything, but he is a little arrogant."
Arrogant, Shane thought, he hated to admit it, but arrogant was his type. Well, considering he was a little obsessed with Ilya Rozanov. Maybe more than a little. His thoughts about the hot Russian hockey player got interrupted when he heard Rose say "We never talked about your type."
"I don't think I have one."
"Oh come on, everybody has a type."
"I don't think that's true."
Rose rolled her eyes. Shane found it amusing when she did that. He liked sassy people. Sassy and arrogant, what a great combo he thought.
"Think about the guys you've been with. What shared traits do they have?"
The guy, Shane thought. This was not going in a great direction. He did not want to keep thinking about Ilya.
"I don't know."
"I thought you would be into bears."
Shane was confused. Utterly confused.
"Bears?" He asked. Why on Earth would Rose think he would be into bears? Well, Ilya did have a bear tattoo on his chest, but no way Rose Landry knew about Ilya Rozanov's poorly designed and even more poorly executed bear tattoo.
"Like hairy, bigger guys?" Rose said like it was common sense.
Shane looked at her with big eyes, "That's an interesting nickname."
"Shane, don't tell me you've never heard of the term bear before." Rose said in a serious tone.
"Ok, I won't say that."
"Oh my god, we need an education session ASAP!"
"I don't think that's necessary."
"I have to go now, we are about to go back to filming, but I will be seeing you when I'm in Montreal next week. And we will be talking about this."
"Yes, go do your job. I'll see you next week."
When Shane hung up the phone, he did not think Rose would actually show up to his house with a notebook and a pen to take notes the next week. He definitely had not expected an actual educational seminar on gay guy terminology.
But here they were. On his dinner table. Using it as a desk.
"Okay, let's start with the basics. What do you know about the types of gay man?" asked Rose, holding her pen ready to take notes on things Shane wasn't exactly sure about.
"Types?" If this was a pop-quiz, it would be one of those where you learn new information about the topic just by reading the questions.
"Yes, types, categories. Whatever you want to call them." Rose waved her pen impatiently, "bears, twinks, otters, jocks..."
"Why are there so many animals?" Shane interrupted.
Rose blinked slowly. "That's not the takeaway here"
"I'm just saying," Shane muttered, "this sounds less like dating and more like a wildlife documentary."
Rose completely ignored him and scribbled something down anyway.
"So," she said, looking back up at him, "what is your type?'
Shane had no idea what any of those animals were supposed to be.
"I do not know what those mean, does my type have to be an animal?"
"Okay," Rose said "Crash course, a bear is usually a bigger, hairy guy. A twink is younger, thinner and usually not very hairy. An otter is like... the middle ground. Lean, but hairy."
Shane looked at Rose like she was speaking in another language.
"Why are they all about hairiness and body types?"
Rose shrugged, "These are just the basics."
"There is more?" Shane asked, feeling so alien.
She nodded, "Yes, for example, a jock is an athletic guy. You know, muscles. Broad shoulders. Sports. The whole deal."
Shane felt something inside his brain immediately fire up. He did know about muscles and broad shoulders. He couldn't wipe away that stupid crooked smile that kept showing up in his mind.
"Right." he said, clearing his throat.
"There's also daddies. They are older, dominant guys. Silver foxes are also older, but do not have to be dominant."
Ilya Rozanov was dominant. Shane liked it when he told him what to do, or how to do things. He liked someone taking control so he could just empty his mind and relax.
"Interesting." Shane said and took a long sip out of his water glass.
"So, what is your type?"
Shane's brain, unhelpfully, kept supplying a very clear image. Tall, muscular, curly blonde hair and a beautiful face. Sharp cheekbones, full pink lips and the kind of presence that filled a room. He took another sip. Rose watched him in silence. He set down his glass.
"I don't know," he said finally.
Rose made a skeptical noise and scribbled something down on her notebook again, "suspicious answer."
"I've just never thought about it like that." Shane said, not very truthfully but not a complete lie either.
"That's literally impossible."
"It's really not!" Shane said defensively.
"Okay, let's narrow it down. Big or small?"
His brain already had a clear preference.
"Bigger?" He admitted, "Muscular."
"That makes sense." Rose mumbled and wrote something down, probably "bigger" in her notebook.
"What do you mean? Why does that make sense?" Shane asked, almost defensively.
Rose didn't even look up, "I mean, you did say that you prefer being the-"
"Rose." Shane cut in quickly, his voice low as if there was anyone else but them in the whole house.
"-more receptive one" she finished.
Shane buried his head in his hands. He knew he would regret saying he preferred being "the hole" as soon as it came out of his lips.
"I cannot believe we are having this conversation at the dinner table."
Rose completely ignored him again, "hair or no hair?" she said looking at her notes.
Shane opened his mouth. And immediately thought of Ilya's stubble against his jaw, his muscular arms, his torso, his abdominal muscles, his happy trail... He shut his mouth again.
Rose's eyes lit up.
"Oh my god," she said smiling, "you do have a type."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
Shane dragged a hand down his face, "I don't know why you are turning this into an interrogation."
Rose tapped her notebook with the pen, "This is research."
"For what? Differences and similarities between animals and gay men?"
"For when you inevitably bring a boyfriend home and I need to say 'I knew it!'"
"That is not happening."
"Dark hair?"
Shane thought about Hayden, and immediately shut that thought down. He was not attracted to him at all. Although he was doubtful that his hair colour was the reason.
"Light hair?" Rose egged him on when he didn't break his silence.
Shane's flowing thoughts came to a very quick stop.
"Oh," Rose said softly, with a grin on her face, "this is going to be fun."
"No, we are not doing this." Shane said firmly.
"Why not?"
"Because it makes no sense. I do not have a specific type. There are plenty of attractive men out there, and they all look different."
"Yes, but which ones are you attracted to?"
Shane tried to think of someone other than Rozanov. Someone that did not look or act like him, but he still found attractive.
"Patrick Swayze is not bad looking," he said as if it was the first time someone made that observation.
"Patrick Swayze... How did you even think of him?" Rose asked, her eyes narrowing.
"My mom used to like him. She had a poster of him that my dad hated. I guess I've always had a crush on him, without noticing that it was a crush."
"Okay," Rose said in a content tone, "so your type is Patrick Swayze."
"I didn't say that."
"Let's do a deep dive on Patrick Swayze." Rose said and cracked her knuckles, "We got light hair, athletic, muscular, confident, got a star quality to him."
Shane felt a sudden sense of dread.
"You insisted that you did not have a type but you described the same guy twice." said Rose, looking up from her notebook.
"Maybe I do have a type then," said Shane dismissively.
"So you like Jocks. Athletes." Rose looked at him suspiciously.
"What is so weird about that?" asked Shane.
"Nothing." Rose answered and started writing down in her notebook again.
"What are you even writing?" Shane tried to look at her notebook. Rose pulled it closer to her chest.
"Confidential information."
"You can't keep information about my type, from me"
"Is he cocky?"
Shane's brain short circuited.
"Who are you talking about? Why would you assume that?"
Rose grinned.
"Light haired, muscular and athletic, confident, cocky."
"That describes a lot of men on this planet."
"Okay," Rose said, clearly enjoying herself, "let's refine the profile."
"There is no profile."
"Tall?"
Shane hesitated.
"That is a yes." Rose jotted stuff down on her notebook again.
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
"This conversation has gone wildly off track."
Rose ignored him once more.
"Taller than you?"
Shane stared at the ceiling. Rose leaned forward eagerly.
"Shane."
"What."
"You are thinking about someone specific."
"I am thinking about Patrick Swayze."
Rose burst out laughing.
"You are so not thinking about Patrick Swayze"
"Yes I am."
"Shane, Patrick Swayze has been dead for over a decade."
"That's not relevant."
Rose chuckled again.
"Okay, fine. Patrick Swayze."
Shane nodded firmly. Rose watched him for a moment. She tilted her head slightly.
"Does Patrick Swayze play hockey?"
Shane nearly choked.
"What? No. I mean, I don't know. Maybe he did. I'm sure you can get this information from the internet."
Rose hummed thoughtfully.
"Interesting reaction."
"I reacted normally."
"Not really."
"I'm ending this conversation." Shane said and stood up from the dinner table.
Rose leaned back on her chair, looking pleased with herself.
"You didn't deny it."
"Deny what?"
"That he plays hockey, you just panicked."
"I don't know why you are still asking me about Patrick Swayze's hobbies."
"Right, Patrick Swayze, known for his love for hockey." She wrote down more things on her notebook again.
Shane walked to the kitchen and got some more water for both of them.
"You are the one who brought hockey up." He said as he put a full water glass in front of her.
"Yes, but you are the one who panicked when I brought hockey up."
"I did not panic."
Rose analyzed the page in front of her, god knows what clownery she had written down, and then flipped to a new page and started writing down again.
"What are you even writing down?"
Rose did not answer.
“Oh my god.” she said.
“What now?” Shane asked, feeling very uneasy.
“You did not choose Patrick Swayze randomly.” She said, completely delighted, “you just thought ‘What’s the safest example of a man who looks like the guy I’m thinking about.’”
Shane crossed his arms.
“That’s a wild assumption.”
Rose finally flipped the notebook around and slid it across the table toward him. It read "PATRICK SWAYZE BUT WORSE" in large letters. Underneath it was a neat list:
Light hair
Tall
Athletic
Muscular
Cocky
Charming
Plays hockey
Rose tapped her pen to the top of the page.
“You know the funniest part?”
Shane did not want to look at the notebook again.
“I’m sure you are about to tell me.”
“You complain about someone who fits this description a lot.”
Shane paused.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Mhm.”
“This list describes half of the league. Doesn’t mean I am into all of them.”
“Sure, but you don’t rant about half the league over dinner.”
“I don’t rant.”
Rose raised an eyebrow.
“Two weeks ago you spent over fifteen minutes on face-time explaining why this one specific guy is the most annoying and irritating human being alive.”
“That was a normal conversation.” Shane insisted.
“You called him,” she checked her notebook, "unbearably smug.”
“He is. Why do you have that in your notebook?”
“Through research.”
“This is not research.”
“You also said his grin is 'infuriating'."
“It is.”
“And that he thinks he is hilarious.”
“He does.”
“And that he is ‘insufferably cocky.’”
Shane crossed his arms. “All accurate statements.”
Rose hummed, “interesting.”
“What is?”
“Well, earlier you described the kind of guy you find attractive as tall, athletic, light haired, confident, and a little cocky.”
Shane immediately frowned. “That is not what I said.”
“That is exactly what you said.”
“It was hypothetical.”
Rose tilted her head.
“Mhm. Hypothetical Patrick Swayze.”
“Yes.”
Rose studied him for a moment.
“Does Patrick Swayze also have an annoyingly smug grin?”
Shane sighed loudly.
“Rose.”
“I’m just asking.”
“You’re not just asking.”
Rose grinned.
“You complain about this guy a lot.”
“Because he’s annoying.”
“You remember very specific details about how annoying he is.”
“That’s because he keeps proving my point.”
Rose scribbled something else down.
Shane narrowed his eyes. “What did you just write?”
Rose angled the notebook away again.
“Nothing important.”
“Rose.”
She ignored him.
“You also said he’s ridiculously competitive,” she added.
“He is.”
“And that he acts like everything is a challenge.”
Shane rubbed the back of his neck.
“Because he does.”
Rose looked up again.
“You also said he gets this look on his face when he’s about to do something stupid.”
Shane blinked.
“That’s not-”
“And,” Rose continued, “you demonstrated the look.”
Shane stared at her.
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I don’t understand why you’re analyzing a conversation where I was complaining about someone.”
Rose leaned back in her chair again, watching him with obvious amusement.
“Because,” she said, “you just spent twenty minutes describing the kind of man you’re attracted to…”
Shane froze slightly.
“…and the other week you spent another twenty minutes describing someone you supposedly cannot stand.”
Silence from Shane continued.
“Also, Patrick Swayze looks like this guy like, a ridiculous amount.”
“That proves nothing.”
Rose shrugged.
“Maybe.”
She tapped the notebook once more.
“But it is very funny that both descriptions involve a tall, light haired, annoyingly confident athlete.”
Shane opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Rose’s grin slowly widened.
“Oh, Shane.”
“I do not like that tone.”
Rose slowly pushed the notebook across the table toward him again.
PATRICK SWAYZE BUT WORSE
Under it she wrote another line.
Annoys Shane personally
Shane groaned.
“This is ridiculous.”
“You know what I find the funniest part?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“You tried so hard not to say his name from the moment I asked you what your type is.”
“Rose.”
“You absolutely have a type.” She said cheerfully, closing the notebook.
Shane glared at her.
Rose stood up, still smiling.
“And I cannot wait to meet the hockey legend Ilya Rozanov."