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“You’re not going back to Russia?”
“Well, eventually I am.” The smug tone of voice Evgeny used to answer Ovi’s question directly contrasted the completely dead-pan serious expression on his face. His lips only quirked up the slightest as he continued, “Just think I’m gonna go to Vegas first,” he explained to the other Russian at their last team breakfast. He shrugged, then shovelling eggs into his mouth, ”Just wanna blow off some steam before I head back home. Have some fun, you know? I think Mojo said he might tag along.”
Upon hearing his name amidst the Russian conversation, Mojo looked up raising an eyebrow at Evgeny in question, who just waved a hand, “Talking of plans for off-season. Vegas, you know?” He answered in English.
Mojo’s face smoothed in recognition and he nodded his agreement, “Oh yeah. Gonna be lots of fun, I think?”
At the table beside Mojo, Nicky glanced between the Russian and the Swede, an unreadable expression on his face, even as Ovi nodded, solemn, hands pressed gingerly together in front of his face.
“Okay. Is decided then,” The captain responded seriously in a way that had Evgeny feeling nervous for reasons he couldn’t quite place.
He was almost afraid to ask, “What decided?” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Ovi.
In turn, Ovi’s face simply brightened, splitting into a wide grin that seemed to take up over half of his face. “Team trip to Vegas!” he announced loudly enough for the rest of the room to hear and look up at him, some in confusion or, in Latts and Whip’s case, excitement.
Evgeny put his head in his hands and sighed.
--
‘Team trip’ ended up meaning only those who didn’t already have plans with family for the off-season or just didn’t want to spend an extended amount of time in the middle of a desert during the summer.
Which is how Evgeny ends up spending the first night of what was supposed to be his summer adventure with his best friend, squashed into a giant booth between Oshie and Carly, listening to Ovi and Nicky debate over how much supervision Burky will actually need while in Vegas, and whether or not Latts and Willy actually count, or if that just means they’ll need an extra chaperone. Based on what little Evgeny is paying attention to it seems the debate is going in favor of the latter.
Evgeny glares down into his beer like this situation is the drink’s fault and not his overbearing captain’s. He hears a snicker on the other side of the table and looks to see Mojo laughing behind his hand. The sight is enough to calm him down at least a little. He’s still here spending his vacation with his best friend, tag-alongs or not.
“What’s funny?” He asks the Swede, letting himself relax into the leather of the booth a bit more.
Mojo raises a brow at him, “Trying to figure what the beer did to offend you so much.”
Evgeny snorts and takes a large gulp of his beer, “Maybe offended me by not being vodka.” He licks the foam from his top lip and shrugs.
“Why not just order vodka then?”
Evgeny gives Mojo a quizzical look, “Ovi already order bottle for table? You not hear him order? He very loud.”
A slight pink hue colors Mojo’s cheeks and he looks a little sheepish, “Oh. No. Was distracted I guess.”
The answer makes Evgeny laugh and he nods, “Yeah. Lot of noise in here. Hard to understand.”
“Noise, yeah,” Mojo agrees quietly, just as Evgeny hears Ovi exclaim loudly. He looks to see that their waitress has arrived carrying the bottle of vodka that Ovi ordered along with a stack of shot glasses, one for each person at the table.
“Oh sweet angel!” Evgeny shouts, grinning in her direction as she places the bottle on the table. She giggles softly as she leaves, and before Evgeny can even grab himself a shot glass Ovi is turning to him, leaning in way too far across the table as if he’s worried someone might overhear him, despite speaking Russian.
”Is she your type? Do you like her? Do you want me to get her number for you?”
Evgeny makes a face at the onslaught of sudden question, eyebrows pulling together and nose wrinkling, ”What? No. Or maybe? I don’t know. I barely saw her, I was just happy about the Vodka. What’s your problem? Also I can get my own phone numbers.”
Instead of actually responding Ovi simply nods and sits back, slinging his arm back around Nicky’s shoulders like nothing happened. Evgeny makes another face at him before pouring himself a shot. He downs the shot then elbows Carly, interrupting the conversation he was having with Oshie.
“Switch with me. Tired of you talk around me,” he instructs and Carly obliges without complaint, allowing Evgeny to relax. Now properly across the table from Mojo, he pours a shot and slides it across the table to him.
Mojo picks the shot up, “What did Ovi want?” he asks before knocking it back. Evgeny rolls his eyes.
“He ask if I think waitress is hot, want her number.” He notices as he answers Mojo’s question that Nicky scowls and turns quickly to look at Ovi, but doesn’t pay it any mind.
“Oh,” Mojo says quietly, “Do you?” he asks, looking genuinely curious.
Evgeny starts pouring himself another shot, only to have Ovi reach down the table to snag the bottle from him before he can, so he takes another sip of his beer instead before answering with a shrug, “Dunno, man. Barely saw her. Why you wanna know?”
There’s a relaxed sort of way that Mojo responds that Evgeny can only describe as relief, but it makes no sense to him. “Maybe I try to help Ovi wingman?” The suggestion doesn’t quite match Mojo’s tight tone of voice, and the suggestion bothers Evgeny anyway so he wrinkles his nose and snatches the bottle of vodka from Carly, and spills the shot the defenseman was in the middle of pouring.
He blatantly ignores Carly’s shouts of protest as he fills his and Mojo’s shot glasses, then slides the bottle down the table into Whip’s waiting hand. He shakes his head then, in a belated response to what Mojo said, “Don’t need wingman. Don’t want wingman,” he raises his shot glass toward Mojo and waits until the Swede does the same, “Here to have fun with best friend.”
They clink glasses, down their shots and Evgeny grins. Mojo looks pleased and it makes Evgeny feel like his insides are made of warm amber. Or maybe that’s just the vodka. He decides he’ll need another shot, or seven, to decide.
--
Vegas is hot in the summer. Well, Vegas is hot most of the year but it’s especially hot in the summer, and Evgeny knows this. He knew that before he decided to come to Vegas for a vacation, but something about the reality of the sun beating down making it a sweltering 40 degrees is so different in theory versus in reality.
Evgeny is lounging poolside, which is mostly what he’s done his first few days here, contemplating if the heat of the desert is really worth the debauchery and freedom of the city of sin, when he’s suddenly in the shade. He peeks an eye open from under his sunglasses and there’s Ovi, standing far too close to his chair, leaning slightly over him and grinning. Evgeny sighs and closes his eyes again.
“It’s hard to get a tan when you’re blocking the sun, you know.”
Apparently satisfied that he’s gotten Evgeny’s attention, Ovi doesn’t respond to his complaint and simply moves on to the reason that he’s interrupted Evgeny’s sunbathing, “I heard about this club that we have to check out. I hear it’s where all the local Russians go, you know?”
Rubbing his temples with a hand Evgeny sits up and sighs again, eyes still closed. “Personally, I have a hard time believing any respectable Russian would stay in this heat long enough to be considered ‘local’.” He drops his hand and looks up at his captain. “You’re not gonna leave me alone until I agree, are you?”
Ovi just grins wider, if that’s possible, and says, “Meet you at your room at nine,” and walks away leaving Evgeny alone once again with his thoughts of how fucking hot it is outside.
After another ten minutes or so of sunbathing Evgeny decides the sun has won and he ventures into the pool to cool off. The water is blindingly cold compared to the scorching desert heat but once he adjusts to the temperature of it, it feels amazing. He dips under the surface, enjoying the way the water muffles the sounds of everything around him, seeming to quiet his mind as well; something he didn’t realize he needed. He does a lazy lap around the pool before he pulls himself out of the water and immediately feels the sun’s oppression back on him, but he just grabs his towel and heads back inside.
He’s scrubbing at his hair with the towel and trying to get his keycard to go into the slot to get into his room when the door beside his opens up and Mojo steps out of his own room. He’s dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a pale blue polo and the thought crosses Evgeny’s mind that he looks good, if a bit like a nerd.
“Kuzy!” Mojo seems pleasantly surprised to see him, and Evgeny raises a brow at him, “Was going to get some dinner, you wanna tag along?”
Evgeny glances from the damp towel in his hand down to his still slightly dripping swim shorts and back up to Mojo, a half teasing smirk on his lips, “We going somewhere real casual?”
Mojo snorts and smacks Evgeny on the shoulder, which stings lightly in a way that suggests that he may have gotten a sunburn, “Go change, jackass. I’ll wait here.”
Evgeny snickers as he finally gets his key card in the slot and pushes his way into his room. He towels off as much as he can and shoves himself into a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that he knows he’s probably gonna regret as soon as he steps foot back outside, but that’s a problem for future Evgeny. When he walks back out into the hallway he finds Mojo isn’t waiting for him alone.
Carly’s got an arm slug around Mojo’s shoulders and Evgeny seems to have interrupted Oshie mid sentence. Mojo, for his credit, only looks mildly put upon. It’s all very Swedish of him.
“Kuzy!” Carly’s arm leaves Mojo’s shoulders only to wrap itself around Evgeny in a crushing side hug. “Mojo says you guys were talking about dinner plans? So where are we going?”
Evgeny sighs and looks to Mojo, who simply shrugs.
“Ooh!” Oshie’s face lights up and he practically bounces on the balls of his feet, “Let’s get In-N-Out! There’s one literally down the road, we wouldn’t even need to get a car!”
Evgeny turns his attention to Oshie, as if attempting to glare a hole through his forehead with his eyes alone, “You been outside today, Osh? Too hot. We getting a car.”
A laugh bursts from Oshie at that as if there was something hilarious about temperatures a good 20 degrees above what he considered comfortable.
“It’s Vegas, babe. What were you expecting? A frigid Moscow winter?”
“I’m from Chelyabinsk.”
--
Of course, they end up walking. Evgeny gets out-voted, thanks to Carly always being on Oshie’s side, and Mojo (the little traitor) not having an opinion one way or the other. It’s a short walk, just as Oshie promised it would be, but that doesn’t change the fact that Evgeny hates each and every second he spends outside wearing jeans. (Curse you, past Evgeny.)
When they step through the door of the In-N-Out the stiff, artificial cool of the burger joint’s air conditioning is so welcome that Evgeny almost sighs in relief. Almost. Instead he closes his eyes for half a second and enjoys the break from the heat, then makes his way to the ordering counter with the other boys.
In all honesty Evgeny isn’t quite sure what he ordered, but when they get their food it all looks absolutely revoltingly delicious. Carly and Oshie settle into the same side of the booth, of course, entirely too close to one another to truly be comfortable for eating; but they both seem content so Evgeny slides into the other side of the booth next to Mojo and digs into his burger.
It’s strangely quiet, save for the sounds of eating. Evgeny finds himself feeling awkward in a way he doesn’t usually feel around his teammates. He chews a bite from his over-large burger and glances over at Mojo, who seems to be eating the world’s messiest burger in the most neat and delicate way possible. The sight makes Evgeny snort, which in turn makes him choke on his burger.
Mojo turns to him with his mouth full of food and a concerned look on his face. Evgeny waves him off and takes a large gulp of his Coke to clear his throat
“You good, Kuzy?” Oshie asks around his own mouthful. Evgeny notices that the burger in front of him is in fact being held by Carly, while Oshie’s own burger sits on the tray in front of him. And there are people on the team who seriously don’t think those two are dating? Evgeny rolls his eyes, then clears his throat and nods.
“Yeah, yeah,” he reaches over to Mojo’s tray to steal a couple of fries, “All fine. Just breathe wrong, you know?”
“Hey!” Mojo protests as Evgeny munches on his stolen fries, his health apparently forgotten in the face of thievery, “Those are mine! If you wanted fries, should have ordered them!”
Evgeny shrugs and grins, “Didn’t know I wanted them until now.” He steals a few more off Mojo’s tray before the Swede scoots a few inches over and pulls the tray away while glaring at Evgeny, who just laughs at the ridiculous display. And suddenly the feeling of discomfort is gone, replaced by a familiar sense of ease, and it just feels like every other time he’s been out with his teammates - his friends - and he feels warm in a good way, not in a raging desert heat way.
During the walk back Carly and Oshie take the lead, Carly wrapping an arm around Oshie’s shoulders and leaning in close to talk to him. Mojo hangs back a few feet with Evgeny as they walk. He nudges the Swede’s shoulder and gestures to the two men ahead of them.
“You really think they not together?” he arches an eyebrow at Mojo, as if daring him to argue with the clear truth.
Mojo just shakes his head. “What you mean? Because Carly has an arm around Oshie? That’s just how he is. He friendly, you know?
“Yeah,” Evgeny snorts, “Always extra friendly with Osh though. You see the way they share dinner today? Carly feeding him by hand.”
Mojo shakes his head, but seems to have no response, and they walk in silence for a moment or two. They’re almost back to the hotel when Evgeny speaks up again, “Hey you have plan tonight?”
Mojo looks at him with a raised eyebrow in a way that Evgeny knows means he’s open to ideas, so he presses on.
“Ovi dragging me to club tonight. He say it not Russian club, but it club where Russian go.” He shrugs lightly, “Think maybe you come? Ovi probably be too busy party to stay with me anyway.”
Mojo seems to mull it over for a moment or two, but as they step through the lobby doors of the hotel, he gives a shrug of his own and nods, “Yeah. Why not?”
Evgeny grins broadly and when they step into the elevator, claps Mojo on the back, “Ovi say we leaving at nine, so be ready!”
As soon as Evgeny is back in his hotel room he makes a bee-line for the shower, stripping his clothes off as he goes. He didn’t shower after being in the pool and he still feels stiff from the chlorine, not to mention disgustingly sweaty walk to and from dinner. He glances at the clock and sees it’s just after 6:30. There’s plenty of time to shower and take a quick nap before whatever shenanigans Ovi has planned for the night.
--
When 9:00 rolls around Evgeny rolls himself out of bed, only briefly pausing in front of a mirror to see how mussed his hair looks. When he deems it worthy of a faux-Russian Vegas club, he grabs his wallet off the nightstands and heads to the hall to meet Ovi and Mojo.
Only it’s not just Ovi and Mojo. There are two extra Swedes, and Evgeny gives a half wave to Nicky before glancing somewhat nervously at Burkie and his large Canadian counterparts. Tom and Latts, for their part, seem heavily engaged in an extremely heated debate about something that Evgeny has never heard of in his life, so nothing out of the ordinary. Nicky, on the other hand, looks entirely too tense for someone who’s about to go to a club - not completely out of the ordinary for the man, but something about his demeanor reads to Evgeny as especially put off.
“Didn’t realize we have whole party,” Evgeny mumbles to announce his presence to Ovi, who simply grins his wild grin in response.
“Whip hear me talk of take you out so of course he come and of course he bring Burkie and Latts! And Backy come to supervise.”
“I’m not doing babysitting duty the whole night, Sasha.” Ah. That explains the expression.
Of course, Ovi blatantly ignores Nicky’s grumpy statement and barrels on like he does with everything. “You ready Kuz? Look like you just fall out of bed?”
“I did. Lets go.” Evgeny shoulders his way past Ovi over to Mojo, who looks uncertain about this whole endeavor now that there are more than twice as many people as he’d thought were coming along.
Ovi claps his hands once loudly in agreement, “Yes! We go now!” then heads down the hall toward the elevators.
“Hey,” Evgeny nudges Mojo lightly with his elbow as they walk, “Don’t have to come if too many people,” he says, just low enough for the Swede to hear.
Mojo nods in agreement, but looks up at Evgeny softly, “I know. I want to come. This is our best friend vacation after all, right?”
That makes Evgeny grin almost wide enough to give Ovi a run for his money, and he throws an arm around Mojo’s shoulders, “We gonna have good time! You see! I make sure!”
--
The club is dimly lit and loud, a mixture of bass-heavy electronic music and general club noises pervading the air. Ovi makes a beeline for the bar, dragging Nicky along with him. Tom, Latts, and Burkie follow after, hot on their tail. Evgeny turns to Mojo and raises an eyebrow despite not knowing whether Mojo can even see his expression in the low lighting.
“Dance or drinks first?” he asks his friend, raising his voice to be heard over the booming music.
Mojo thinks it over for a second, glancing over at the trio of idiots following their captain and alternate, and then decides, “Drinks.”
Evgeny smiles and nods, then takes a hold of Mojo’s wrist to pull him along to the bar with the rest of their friends. He was thinking they’d order and then either find a table or just brave the crowd with their drinks in hand, but to his surprise, two empty seats are waiting for them at the bar and so he follows Mojo’s lead and takes one of the bar stools for himself.
It’s no surprise that the bar is busy, and the bartender doesn’t notice them immediately, so Evgeny leans in towards Mojo to make sure the Swede can hear him, “Just tell me if get too much okay? We here for fun. You not have fun we leave, okay?”
The smile that Mojo gives him in return is so gentle and appreciative that, for just a moment, it’s like the cacophony of the club fades and the air is just a degree or two warmer and Evgeny loses his breath. It returns to him only when Mojo breaks eye contact, looking just behind Evgeny’s shoulder.
“What can I get for you two?”
Evgeny is startled out of the moment by a Russian accented bartender and the atmosphere of the club comes back to him all at once.
“Soda?” Evgeny asks in Russian, thrown just enough to not think about it.
“What kind?” The bartender asks in turn.
“Oh. Um. Something lemon-lime. Sprite or whatever is fine.”
It isn’t until the bartender responds with, “And for your friend?” that Evgeny really realizes he’s been speaking Russian, and therefore Mojo has no idea what he’s been saying. He turns to give the other an apologetic smile, but to his slight surprise the Swede is just watching him with a sort of fondness that makes Evgeny feel embarrassed in a different way. One he doesn’t know how to aim.
“Sorry Mojo. What you want to drink?”
Mojo cocks his head to the side in thought, “Can you ask him what they have on tap?” He says it only loud enough for Evgeny, and not the bartender, to hear.
“You know he greet us in English. Could ask yourself?”
“Yeah,” Mojo agrees with a soft nod and a curl to the corner of his lips, “But I like to hear you speak Russian.”
That simple statement makes Evgeny’s face heat up in a way that makes him glad the club is so dark, so no one can see how red he his now. “Oh. Um. Okay.” He turns back to the bartender and tries to swallow to clear his throat, “My friend wants to know what you have on tap?”
The bartender rattles off a list of beers, some of which he recognizes the names of, others he assumes are local or something. Mojo seems to understand beer names at least, he shoots back his order just fine, and the bartender heads off to fetch the drinks.
Mojo stands and rolls his shoulders like he’s been sitting for an hour instead of less than ten minutes, “Gonna go find the bathroom. Be right back.” He says to Evgeny, and pats his shoulder lightly as he passes, leaving his skin feeling warm where his hand was.
Evgeny shakes his head to try and clear it, despite the fact that he’s not even drunk. And also not planning on drinking tonight.
Just as his and Mojo’s drinks are set down, a woman sits down in the seat that Mojo had just vacated. Evgeny is about to open his mouth to tell her that the seat is taken when she turns to him with a smile that can only be described as salacious. Even in the dim light, he can see her lips are painted with bright red lipstick and her eyes heavy with makeup.
“Hi,” she greets in Russian. It seems Ovi was right about this being the club for Russians to go to. She’s pretty, Evgeny can see that - he’s not blind. And the fact that she’s Russian is actually incredibly attractive to him while he’s stuck in this American desert. But she’s also clearly interested in something that, right now, Evgeny is not.
“”Hello,” he responds, polite but curt, “I’m sorry but someone is sitting there.”
The woman frowns - pouts, really - and puts and elbow up on the bar, pushing her chest out in a way that emphasizes how tight and low cut her dress is. She really is gorgeous, but Evgeny just isn’t interested. He’s here to hang out with Mojo.
“Oh. Your friend said you weren’t here with anyone, and that you were available.”
Evgeny narrows his eyes, “My friend?”
The woman points past him and Evgeny turns to see Ovi grin and raise his glass at Evgeny, who only scowls in response. Of course Ovi is behind this. He sighs then turns back to the woman. “I’m sorry. There’s been a misunderstanding. You are very pretty and I’m sure very interesting, but I’m not looking for anything, and my friend is sticking his giant, broken nose where it doesn’t belong.” He doesn’t mean to be short with her, it’s not her fault that Ovi can’t mind his business. He cracks his Sprite and drinks far too much of it in one go. The carbonation burns his throat.
“Hey Kuzy. You okay? Look like you swallow a lemon.” Of course now would be when Mojo gets back from the bathroom.
Evgeny sighs again, “I’m fine, just- need to have word with Ovi,” he takes another far too large drink of his soda and then stands, “You have my seat,” then he turns again to the woman, “I’m sorry, again, for the trouble my friend caused,” then he turns to Mojo again, expression softening, “I’ll meet you out on the dance floor, okay?”
Mojo looks a little confused and doesn’t sit, but he nods, eyes following after Evgeny as he heads in Ovi’s direction.
“Kuzy!” Ovi yells when Evgeny gets close enough, “She’s pretty, no? And Russian! Told you this would be a good Russian club! Did you get her number?” He waggles his eyebrows at his teammate. Evgeny only frowns.
“I thought I told you I didn’t want you help picking up.”
Ovi’s grin falters at that, “What’s wrong? Is she not your type? I thought she was nice looking and had a good sense of humor!”
“I’m sure she was lovely!” Evgeny is trying not to shout. Ovi means well. He knows Ovi means well, but sometimes the man can be so dense, “It’s not her. I’m just not interested in picking up girls okay! That’s not what I’m here for.” Some other offseason, sure. He’d love to spend the summer having Ovi be his wingman, help him get a couple girls numbers or something. But that’s not what this vacation was supposed to be, and it’s not like he’s going to be in Vegas with Mojo all offseason. Soon he’s going back to Russian and Mojo’s going back to Sweden. He just wants to spend some time with his best friend without worrying about anything.
Something like recognition slowly spreads across Ovi’s face and he nods slowly, seriously, “Oh. Okay, I get you. Sorry man I just thought- I mean I assume- Never mind. Don’t worry about it. No more trying to set you up with girls, no problem.” He nods again, like that’s it, but he seems serious enough that Evgeny thinks it might actually be it, that he might be free of Ovi trying to wingman him.
“Good. Thanks Ovi. I appreciate it man, but- yeah.” They stand without talking for a second, only the heavy thrum of the techno music around them. “Well. I’m gonna go dance now.”
Ovi nods, still seemingly thinking and slightly distracted, so Evgeny just slips away into the throng of sweaty people on the dance floor. He can feel the music in his chest almost more than he can hear it in his ears, which in his mind is perfect for just dancing in a thick crowd. Evgeny would never claim to be a good dancer, but he definitely knows how to have a fun time. It’s one of his main priorities at all times. So he loses himself to the music, most of which is in English, despite the definite heavy percentage of Russian patrons, and the music that isn’t in English is definitely not in Russian. He’s not sure actually what language it’s in, but it all has a good beat and is more than easy to dance to.
He isn’t sure how long he’s been out on the floor when he feels the press of a body behind him. They’re about as tall as him, and based on the feel of the chest pressed against his back, probably a man. He feels a hand on his hip, but it’s not bothering him. What else are you supposed to do at a club, if not dance a little too close to strangers. It isn’t until he feels the breath on his ear and the man dancing behind him get even closer that Evgeny starts to feel a little uncomfortable.
He tells himself he just needs some air to breathe, so he pulls away just enough to turn around and see the man he’s been dancing with. He’s good looking, dark hair and dark eyes, sharp jawline and clearly muscular in a way that’s strictly from working out in a gym; just for looks, not like the strength of professional athletes that Evgeny is used to.
The man smiles and moves a hand up to Evgeny’s waist, “Your friend was right. You are cute.”
Of course he’s Russian too. Evgeny narrows his eyes slightly though at the mention of ‘his friend’, immediately scanning the crowd. He spots Ovi leaning against the bar, Nicky by his side, having clearly giving up on babysitting duty at this point. The captain is laughing at something Nicky’s said when his eyes meet Evgeny’s, and his enormous grin lessens for a moment. Then he raises his eyebrows in question, still smiling, like he’s looking for approval, but sure he’s done something good.
Evgeny is about to storm away from the man and give Ovi an earful when he spots something out of the corner of his eye. Down at the other end of the bar, Mojo is still sitting in the seat that Evgeny vacated earlier, only now he’s surrounded by the idiot trio. Tom is gesturing almost wildly with his huge hands while Latts and Burkie nod along seriously and Mojo is staring widely at nothing in particular, clutching his glass of beer with a death grip and looking majorly overwhelmed.
That’s Evgeny’s cue.
He turns back to the man he’d been dancing with and smiles apologetically. “Look. You’re gorgeous, and Russian, and those are two great things to be, but I’m sorry I’ve got to go,” and then he shoulders past the man and through the crowd without even looking back, his eyes solely trained on Mojo.
He could give Ovi an earful later.
“So Jungkook - Kookie - he’s the maknae,” Tom is saying as Evgeny nears them, “That means he’s the youngest in the group.”
“But he’s also really strong!” Latts cuts in, words slurring slightly and Evgeny has to wonder how much he’s had to drink. How much they’ve all all had drink, based on Burkie’s slight swaying and the way Tom’s eyes can’t quite seem to focus on Mojo’s face.
“Yeah!” Tom agrees, “He’s probably-”
“Hate to interrupt,” Evgeny lies, elbowing his way beside Tom, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Mojo so relieved. Hell, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone so relieved. Tom looks a little off balance, both physically and mentally, so Evgeny decides to play things up a bit just to fuck with them. “You three,” he can see the idiot trio straighten, “Ovi’s looking for you. Go.”
They don’t ask questions, just look a little confused, but between the three of them they manage to lean on each other enough to head off to look for Ovi - who is not looking for them and probably does not want to babysit them, especially now that they’re all drunk - but it’s what he deserves.
Evgeny turns to Mojo then, “Hey. Look like want to leave?”
Mojo seems hesitant to answer, and that’s the only confirmation Evgeny needs. He digs his wallet out of his back pocket and slaps some cash on the bar, then links his arm with Mojo’s and pulls him off the bar stool, “Let’s go back to hotel. I get Uber.”
Once again, all Mojo has to do is smile softly and nod just a little to convey his feelings on the matter.
The ride back to the motel is relatively quiet. Evgeny texts Ovi to let him know that the two of them left. Then he text Nicky the same thing for good measure. As he’s hitting send on his text to Nicky he feels Mojo’s head rest on his shoulder, and he glances down at the Swede. Mojo isn’t asleep - his eyes aren’t even closed, but based on how heavy lidded they are and how he’d swayed slightly on their way out of the club Evgeny guesses that he had a few more drinks after Evgeny left the bar, so he just lets Mojo rest his head.
When they get back to the hotel and make their way to their rooms, Mojo is quiet still. It isn’t until Evgeny is swiping his keycard that Mojo speaks up.
“Hey. Thanks for- You know, with the kids. It was- Thank you,” his voice is quiet and soft and Evgeny chalks it up to Mojo being tired and a little drunk.
“No problem man. Told you, here for fun.” He grins at Mojo, whose eyes crinkle at the edges with his smile.
Evgeny goes opens his door, but doesn’t step inside. He looks at Mojo and it seems like there’s something else he wants to say, like he’s chewing on his words, but when the Swede speaks up again he just says, “Goodnight, Kuzy,” Then steps into his own rooms and closes the door, leaving Evgeny alone in the hall.
There’s silence as he stands there for a moment, the air feeling thick and him feeling warm, until his phone rings and breaks him out of the moment. He looks at the caller ID. It’s Ovi.
He answers with a sigh, “I sent you a text to tell you we left.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. So did Backy. That’s not why I’m calling.” He can hear the sounds of the club in the background, but not as loud as they should be. Ovi must have gone to the bathroom hall to make the call.
“Then what is it?” He feels bad for being irritated when he hasn’t had the chance yet to tell Ovi why he’s upset with him, but he can’t help it. He steps into his room.
“What happened with the guy you were dancing with?”
Ovi can be hard to read over the phone when Evgeny can’t see his facial expressions, which is why he had planned to have this conversation the next morning - in person - but he supposed if Ovi was bringing it up now then he might as well tell him now, “Nothing. Ovi, nothing happened with the guy I was dancing with. And it’s not because he wasn’t good looking. It’s because I’m not interested.”
“But you said you didn’t want to pick up women so I thought-”
“I don’t want to pick up at all!” Evgeny signs again, squeezing his eyes closed and rubbing at his temples, “Men, women, they’re both fine but I didn’t come to Vegas to hook up with anyone. Do you understand that? I just wanted to spend some time offseason with Mojo, you know? Hang out with him.”
There’s silence on the other end for long enough that for a moment Evgeny is worried that Ovi hung up, or worse, that he upset Ovi. That’s hard to do to the Russian Machine. Finally, Ovi speaks.
“Okay Kuzy. Sorry man, I guess I just had the wrong idea about what you wanted from Vegas.” He sounds sincere, but not upset so Kuzy breathes his relief and appreciation.
“It’s not that I’m not grateful that you want to help me hook up, you know? Just not this summer, man.”
“Yeah yeah, I got you man. No worries. See you two tomorrow at breakfast?”
“Yeah. Sounds good. Tell Nicky sorry for bailing and leaving you guys with the kids.”
Ovi laughs on the other end, “Ah, you and Mojo he’ll forgive. Now whether or not he’ll forgive me for even letting those idiots come along in the first place? We’ll see.”
“He has too. Can’t have mom and dad fighting.”
Ovi laughs again, “We’ll see. See you tomorrow, Kuz.”
Evgeny hangs up and looks at his phone for a moment. Something about the tone of Ovi’s voice during the last half of their call confuses him. There was such a note of understanding and sincerity that’s rare from the goofball captain. Evgeny doesn’t know what to make of it or do about it though, so he just decides to go to bed.
He doesn’t sleep well.
--
The next morning when they all manage to get up to eat together, it’s closer to lunch than breakfast. Osh informs them it’s called ‘brunch’ and Evgeny thinks that sounds like a stupid made up word.
The idiot trio are late, and Evgeny assumes it’s because they’re all hung over. Until the three of them show up, looking panicked and stressed.
“Papa, we need help,” Tom declares before he’s even sat down all the way. There’s something suspicious about the way he’s got his hands in his lap below the table. Evgeny notices Latts and Burkie are also hiding their hands, and he narrows his eyes.
Nicky doesn’t even address Tom, just turns directly to Ovi, “Alex, your son needs help.”
Ovi makes a noise of protest around the half of a bagel in his mouth, “Why I help? He ask you!”
“Because,” Nicky responds calmly, “You’re the one who decided it was fine to let them stay at the club after we left, so whatever trouble they got into is your problem.”
“Papa please,” Latts practically interrupts, begging, “Or Mama, whatever we just don’t know what to do.”
Ovi sighs and turns to the three boys, “You get arrested?”
“No.”
“Kill someone?”
“What? Mama, No!”
“Then what so urgent I can’t finish bagel first?”
The three boys all exchange nervous looks before Tom nods, and then they all place a hand on the table. Their left hands, each of which is sporting a simple gold band on the ring finger. All three of them.
At this, Nicky narrows his eyes, “What did you do?”
“We got married!” Burkied wails, finally speaking up.
“Yes I see. But to whom?”
“Well, um-” Tom starts, scratching at the back of his head sheepishly.
“That’s the thing, Papa,” Latts says softly.
“We don’t know which two of us marry each other!” Burkies cries, head flopping down on the table with a loud thud.
Silence, and then: chaos. Everyone at the table loses their shit.
Everyone, Evgeny notices, except Mojo, who is smiling lightly at the kids antics but seems somewhat subdued, even for him. Probably just didn’t sleep well, Evgeny tells himself. He lets it got, but decides to keep an eye on Mojo for the rest of Lunch.
After they all finish eating, Ovi pulls Evgeny to the side to speak privately.
“Hey Kuz,” He’s smiling, as usual, but his voice is softer, lower than it should be, “Just wanted to say sorry again.”
Evgeny waves him off, “It’s good man. Just a misunderstanding. It’s fine dude.”
“Yeah yeah, but also I have something else to apologize for.”
Evgeny raises a brow, “What? What did you do?”
Ovi’s grin remains but his eyes squint in a way that could almost be a wince and his words tumble out all at once, faster than usual, “Can you go on this blind date I set up tonight?”
Evgeny doesn’t speak for a moment, just lets Ovi’s words sink in. When they finally do, “Ovi what the fuck? Why the fuck are you asking to set me up on a blind date when I just told you last night that’s not what I’m interested in this summer?”
“I know I know-” Ovi is already speaking over him before he can finish, holding his hands up in a placating manner, “I know just hear me out. I know this isn’t what you’re looking for, but I seriously think this person is perfect for you to date.”
Evgeny just glares at him, unamused and verging on pissed off.
“If you don’t believe me, ask Backy. Even he thinks you too are the perfect match.”
Now that’s something that catches Evgeny’s attention. Nicky isn’t usually one to get involved in Ovi’s shenanigans. He’s still dubious, but raises an eyebrow, “Is this someone you met at the club last night?”
“They were at the club last night, yes”
“Are they Russian”
“No.”
No? Now that’s a surprise. Evgeny narrows his eyes, considering, “You promise Nicky agrees?” Ovi gives possibly one of the most enthusiastic nods Evgeny has ever seen. Alright, “Okay. Fine. But I have to take a nap now because dealing with you is exhausting. You’re my dear friend and I love you but also I fucking hate you. Text me when and where the date is.”
Ovi gives a whoop of triumph but Evgeny is already walking away, planning to sleep off the headache he can feel forming.
--
Evgeny looks down at his phone to double check the name of the restaurant that he’s standing in front of. It’s nice, like really nice. He’s a professional hockey player so it’s not like he can’t afford it, but he has to wonder at the person he’s meeting that they wouldn’t be intimidated by a place like this. He’s just glad he also thought to ask Ovi about how nice he should dress. He would hate to have shown up to this place in jeans and a polo.
Taking in a deep breath and slowly letting out, he opens the door to the restaurant while telling himself that even if he’s not looking for a date he can still have a nice dinner and be polite to whoever Ovi set him up with. The fact that Nicky was in on this makes him feel better about the situation and more nervous at the same time. On the one hand, Nicky tended to be a little more level headed about things in general, so there’s no way he’s going to get to his table and meet some vapid, no personality pretty boy or something, and that’s comforting. But on the other hand, if even Nicky thinks they’d be a good match there might actually be a chance for a real connection with whoever this is, and does Evgeny really want to pass that up just because he’s not looking right now?
He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and gives Nicky’s name for the reservation and forces himself to breathe like normal as he’s led to the table, completely unsure of what to expect.
What he isn’t anticipating is for Marcus Johansson to be sitting there.
“Mojo?” he asks, now not sure that he’s been brought to the right table. He turns to the hostess before she can walk away, “This is the reserved table for Backstrom, right?”
Before the hostess can even speak, Mojo answers, “Nicky told me to use his name too. But what are you doing here?”
The hostess looks between to two of them, then apparently decides she’s better off at her post and leaves the two of them to it. So Evgeny sits.
“I uh. Ovi tell me to come here for blind date?” He crinkles his forehead, “What you doing here?”
“Nicky told me same thing,” Mojo says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, clearly just as confused as Evgeny.
Then, something clicks. The phrasing Ovi used when Evgeny asked if the blind date was someone from the club. That little weasel. Of course he couldn’t just let Evgeny and Mojo enjoy some time together of their own volition, it had to be his idea. But that still begs the question of why Nicky had gotten involved.
Whatever. Evgeny’s starved, so he just shakes his head, “Guess it just Ovi being Ovi,” And he opens up the menu to look over his options. Mojo is suspiciously quiet.
They order, they get their drinks, they get their food, they start to eat, and the whole time, something feels off. It feels tense in a way Evgeny just can’t name, and Mojo is too quiet. Sure, he’s not the most talkative guy, but it feels like pulling teeth for Evgeny to get more than one word at a time out of him.
Finally, when he’s nearly done eating -much faster than he usually would be, with the lack of talking and all- he decides enough is enough.
“Mojo.”
The Swede looks up from his chicken salad, seeming slightly startled by the volume of Evgeny’s voice, eyes just a little wider than usual.
“Mojo,” Evgeny repeats, “What’s wrong?”
Mojo furrows his eyebrows like he doesn’t understand, and Evgeny sighs loudly and almost drops his fork onto his plate, “No, Something wrong, Mojo. You quiet since club. More quiet than usual. I’m worried. You sad? You not having good vacation?” Evgeny’s voice softens toward the end. The only thing he wanted from this trip in the first place was to have a good time with Mojo. To have fun with Mojo, his best friend. The thought that the Swede might not be having fun or might not want to be here with him anymore- it tears at him, makes his chest ache. Just the thought of it so much, he almost has to clutch at his chest right there at the table.
Mojo is looking down at his plate now and Evgeny starts to really panic, thinking that he’s dragged his best friend along on the worst vacation ever. Or maybe he just was even less okay with the club than he’d let on. Fuck, Evgeny had barely even spent any time with Mojo there, just left him alone at the bar, and then with the kids - love them, but they could be a lot to handle. First when Ovi tried to set him up with that girl, then that guy on the dance floor! Why couldn’t Ovi have just seen that he just wanted to spend time with Mojo, that all he wanted to do was be here with him. Why didn’t Ovi know that-
Oh.
Oh.
Ovi did know. It took him a bit, but he figured it out before Evgeny did. That’s why he set him up on this blind date. Ovi figured it out first. That Evgeny is in love with Mojo.
Evgeny’s eyes widen, and he realizes that Mojo has looked up from his plate and has opened his mouth to answer the question that he forgot he even asked, but he doesn’t let him even get a word out.
“- I love you,” he blurts it out all at once, like now that he knows it he just can’t keep inside, not for a second.
Mojo blinks, eyes wide and stunned into silence once again.
“What.” he finally says.
“I love you,” Evgeny repeats, slower this time, nodding as he says it, realizing just how right it feels, how true it is. Mojo is his best friend, yes, and he always will be, but he also loves him. He loves him so much.
“You. You love me.” Mojo recites, slowly, not like a question, just like he’s trying out the words.
Evgeny nods again, “Sorry I- I mean. I only just realize, I think. It okay if you don’t feel same. I just think I need-”
He’s interrupted by Mojo’s loud laughter, so genuine, yet full of exasperation that at first Evgeny is afraid maybe he just ruined their friendship. But then Mojo speaks.
“Oh, Kuzy. Oh Evgeny Kuznetsov you gorgeous idiot,” he chuckles again, like an inside joke, “I’ve been in love with you for years.”
“You- you what?”
Mojo just nods, still laughing softly, “I have to send Nicke chocolates for this. Or something. Conniving bastard, setting this up and getting Ovi in on it. And I had no idea.” It seems like he’s mostly muttering to himself, and that makes Evgeny burst out in his own peals of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.
“Years?” he asks.
Mojo nods again, “Probably since we met.”
“Wow,” Evgeny giggles, “I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah,” Mojo agrees as his laughter dies, his face and voice so full of love and fondness as he says it that Evgeny feels his heart swell, and he finally has a name for the warmth he’s been feeling. It’s love.
It wasn’t the vodka, that first night here in Vegas.
That dinner is the best one Evgeny ever has.