rules - hollanov - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 462 - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3
“Here you go, solnyshko.”
Shane takes the pin Ilya hands him without much thought, his brain whirling a little as he looks around the room. He’s trying not to feel like a total imposter in this setting, but it’s massively difficult.
It’s just–he’s gay, right? But he’s not practiced at being gay.
Yeah, he’s got physical practice. Lots of that. But socially?
The only time he spends around other gay people who aren’t hockey players is at the Kingfisher. He only knows what Stonewall is because Scott and Kip explained it to him one evening recently, and terms like ‘top’ and ‘bottom’ still make him wince when said in a public setting. So as he looks down to the pin Ilya handed him, he can’t help but furrow his brow.
“‘He/him/his,’” he reads, looking over to his husband in confusion.
“Is pronouns, Shane,” Ilya explains patiently, fixing the same pin to his chest and leading Shane to their trivia team’s table.
“Pronouns,” he repeats, casting a glance around to see that most of the bar’s patrons have similar pins. The vast majority wear ones that say ‘she/her/hers’ and ‘he/him/his’ but a lot wear one that says ‘they/them/theirs’ and many have pins that have a combination of these words. A few even have pins that say things like ‘xe/xir/xym’ or ‘ask me!’
And he feels completely lost.
“Is like…how you call a person,” Ilya specifies, pouring both of them a beer from the pitcher on the table. “Look.” He gestures to where Scott is standing nearby wearing a ‘he/him/his’ pin. “Is Scott Hunter. He is old, like a dinosaur.”
Shane snorts as Scott turns, flipping Ilya a finger.
“And here,” Ilya continues, pointing to a person standing next to Scott who is wearing a ‘they/them/theirs’ pin. “This is Hunter’s friend, Ash. They have shit taste in friends.”
Ash and Shane both laugh loudly while Scott rolls his eyes and shoves lightly at Ilya. “Watch it, Rozanov, I’ll kick you off this team.”
“Of course, Captain Grandpa, I would not dare,” Ilya smirks.
But Shane just shakes his head, a little overwhelmed by this new set of social rules he’s never heard of. “How’d you learn all this?” he hisses at his husband, trying to focus on the announcer, who has called the trivia competition to order.
“I want to make sure when I insult people, I insult correctly,” Ilya whispers back, grinning.
But before Shane can reply, the first question is asked.
“Question one! Who was the winner of season 8 of Drag Race?”
Excitedly, Ilya leans in to their team, beaming. “Bob! Bob the Drag Queen!”
And Shane sighs, shaking his head. Fuck, he needs to study.
