Chapter Text
Sylvie Pike liked to think that after raising nine children, seven of whom were boys, made her an expert in both chaos and surprises.Very little surprised her anymore.She had survived science fair projects announced the night before they were due, complete with frantic poster board runs and baking soda volcanoes erupting on her kitchen counter. She had weathered viruses that swept through the house like biblical plagues, taking out child after child until she stood alone with a thermometer and a pot of soup. She had navigated one son announcing, quite calmly, that he was going to medical school, and another announcing, much less calmly, that he was not going to college to become a professional hockey player.
She had mediated fistfights, refereed theological debates, confiscated slingshots, and once found three of them attempting to “experiment” with hair dye in the garage.Nothing, she told herself, could rattle her.
“Hello…..hello?” Sylvie heard as she entered the den.
Liam, her five-year-old grandson was sitting in the middle of the den frowning at his Uncle Hayden’s phone. He very expertly hung up, and seemed to scroll through the countless apps for games to play.
“Who were you talking to?” Sylvie asked gently, putting down the plate of cookies she’d just baked. Liam’s younger brother was asleep upstairs, and their parents were about to welcome twins into the world. She rather thought Liam could do with a bit of one-on-one attention.
“Emily Elizabeth,”
“That didn’t sound like an Emily,” Sylvie told him.
“No uh,” Liam said with all of the sass a five-year-old wearing a bright yellow shirt with a duck on it could muster. He scrolled back and held up the call log where there was indeed an outgoing call to Emily Elizabeth. And….Emily Elizabeth had texted: r u trying to call me?
Sylvie would deny it later but her finger had touched the message drop down
before she could stop it. And the small, entirely undignified yelp that escaped her was not something she had produced since Declan had set a dish towel on fire in 2003. Well…because…the messages were explicit, and one included a picture of a man’s penis.
“What?”
“N-nothing….cookie Liam?” while her grandson was distracted, Sylvie grabbed the phone back glanced once more….yes indeed penis….and locked the phone.
Hayden wondered in a moment later, hair damp from the shower, and in search of his phone.
“Liam you can’t just take my phone,” Hayden said without any true malice. Uncle Hayden was the Uncle the children went to for extra sweets or piggyback rides or expensive things. He had not developed the ability to say no to any of them, “you okay Mom?”
“All good,”
Later on that night, Sylvie sat beside her husband on the sofa. Hayden had gone back to his apartment, and Liam had gone home with his parents and sister. A false alarm.
“I think Hayden is gay,” she announced just before the final categories for Jeopardy were on.
Joe did not look up immediately.He adjusted his glasses. Took a sip of tea. Considered the television like the answer might be hiding in a category about 19th century French poets.They had talked about it before.Quietly.In the kitchen.After New Year’s.After a certain head-butting incident that did not look strictly athletic.They had discussed probabilities. Statistics. The simple mathematical likelihood that with nine children, one might not be entirely straight.
Joe reached for the remote and lowered the volume a fraction, “So I think Misha’s gay,” he said, shrugging.
“He’s just European,” Sylvi said, trying to keep the topic on their youngest. She hadn’t meant to truly just announce that but she couldn’t keep it to herself anyway.
“We adopted him when he was six. He’s nearly thirty, dear. He’s been in Canada four times as long,” Joe shrugged again, “he wears tighter pants than Colleen does,”
“Let’s focus on one child at a time,” when you had nine, that was nearly impossible. It was a bit easier now that they were all adults but often times, their hearts were always being pulled in other directions. A residency in another province, a hockey play-off, or a sick grandchild in another province, “I accidentally looked at his messages,”
“Accidentally? You?” Joe said raising his eyebrows dramatically.He leaned forward slightly, interested now,v “How does one accidentally look at messages?”
“It popped up.”
“And you tapped it.”
“My finger slipped.”
“Did it?”
Sylvie narrowed her eyes, “You know how sensitive these phones are. Look does it matter how I looked? I can’t take back what I saw,”
“Are you going to-
“I saw a penis alright?!” Sylvie could feel herself blushing which was weird considering she had birthed six boys, changed six boys’ diapers, and had of course a husband who impregnated her eight times. It was still weird to think about how explicit it was.
“And you’re sure it wasn’t some kind of joke?” Joe tried taking it much better than she thought he would, “the locker room-
“The contact was saved as Emily Elizabeth,”
Joe rubbed his chin, “That’s not a very locker-room name,” he admitted.
“I mean he didn’t send it so I’m glad he at least seemed to listen to our talks about not sending explicit pictures online,”
“Syl…is that really what-
“Though I cannot imagine Shane Hollander being the type to send those kind of pictures!”
“Shane Hollander?”
“It all makes sense Joe. Shane is always with him. Shane has come to more family gatherings than Laurent has,”
“Laurent lives in Calgary,” Joe pointed out.
“Exactly.”
“That does not prove anything.”
“He’s very affectionate,” Sylvie continued. “The head-butting. The intense eye contact. The dramatic post-game embraces.”
“That is hockey.”
“I’m telling you. Mother’s intuition, it’s Shane,”
******************************************************************
“Do you have any advice on how to tell your parents?” Hayden felt as though he hadn’t had one sip of water in days. The crushed water bottle in his hand told another story. He’d guzzled it pacing as he tried to think of how to phrase that to Shane.
“You could have your dad come over by mistake and catch you and Marly making out on a dock,”
Hayden was waiting for the joke. Or to figure out how this was sarcasm. Of course it was literal. Because well Shane.
“Fuck man,”
Shane took a casual sip of his usual ginger ale. They were rooming together in Anaheim, “I don’t recommend it, but it does eliminate the awkward build-up.”
“How’d Yuna and David take it when they found it was Rozanov?”
Hayden liked Shane’s parents. His mom especially with how much she was into hockey. His parents were both fans of the MHL, and with six out of their seven sons taking up the sport, they knew far more than most people, and yet they didn’t have Yuna’s spirit. Or hatred of the Boston Raiders.
Shane stared at him for a moment, “I mean they were shocked. But they accepted it. And now sometimes I think Ilya might be my mom’s favorite son,”
Hayden patted him on the back, “he’s my grandma’s favorite grandchild, I feel your pain,”
“I thought I was your Grandma’s favorite,”
“Oh buddy you used to be,” Hayden shook his head, “you’re numero cuatro this week,” and at Shane’s baffled look, “Colleen just announced she’s having a baby so she’s number two and Declan’s wife just had twins, he’s number three, and of course Ilyusha is number one,”
“You Pikes reproduce like rabbits,” Shane muttered darkly.
“I think my Grandma likes the idea of one day everyone in Ottawa being of Pike blood,”
“You and Marly will have to get on it then,”
“Fuck you man,” Hayden flopped dramatically onto his bed, “I think my parents would be okay with it. They never expressed any kind of gay hate but it's not like we ever really talked about it,”
******************************************************************
Four Weeks Later
“He still hasn’t said anything,” Sylviw complained to her husband after their youngest child had driven back to the hotel he was staying at before his game later that night. The Montreal Metros were playing against Ottawa, which should be very easy for them, “we played that Lady Gaga song three times. Colleen said it was a gay anthem,”
Joe glared down at his wife, “dear…Hayden has never been great at picking up hints,”
Sylvie groaned. She had spent many hours on twitter, barely managing it, but somehow coming up with all of the tweets about Hayden and Shane. She had triumphantly showed her husband that she was not the only one who saw it. People called them Shayden. They made edits of their head bumps, of the selfies Hayden had shared on his Instagram, and some even drew pictures. She had even screenshotted a few that maybe they’d like once all was revealed. If Hayden Matthew Pike ever told her.
“They play in Montreal in two weeks,” Sylvie said mostly to herself, “what if we invite-
“No. No. Do not make this a ‘we’. I do not consent to this,” her husband said very firmly.
“We invite Shane and Hayden over. I make Hayden’s favorite meal….and bam,”
“And bam what? You force our child out of the closet with lasagna?” Joe’s dark eyebrows were up to his hairline, “Sylvie Pike I love you but you have all the subtly of a hand grenade,”
Sylvie tapped her fingers along the counter, “I just I don’t understand why he won’t tell us,”
““Gee, I wonder why?” he said dryly. “He’s possibly gay or bisexual or one of the other letters I am still learning, in a league that’s not very kind to people like him. I wonder why he might want to keep it quiet.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” Sylvie turned to him.
“I want him to be happy. He can tell us when he’s ready,”
Sylvie narrowed her eyes, “you don’t think I want that too?” she grabbed his hand, “we’ve always said that. All we wanted was nine healthy children,”
“I believe we actually said we wanted six healthy children,”
Sylvie let herself be pulled into him, “you are re-writing history,”
““My point,” he continued, “is that our expectations have adjusted before.”
Sylvie looked at him carefully.
“I don’t care if he is gay,” she said quietly. “Or bisexual. Or whatever word applies. I care that he doesn’t feel alone.”
Joe nodded,“I know.”
“I’m still making the lasagna,” and when she felt her husband squirm, “not to force him out just to get the conversation started. Maybe I'll look up more gay songs to play,"