Chapter 1

"You can tell people." came the sleepy mumble from under Mischa's arm. He was cuddled up with Dexter on the couch, the Drakeshire Game on their TV.

Mischa hadn't been really paying attention, too busy watching Baxter miss a goal. "Hm?"

Dexter had stiffened at the hum. "You can. Tell some people." The uptake in the rhythm of his breathing tore Mischa's face away from the screen.

"Tell people? Dexter, sweetheart, what are you talking about?" Mischa felt his own heart rate begin to pick up. He couldn't mean-? No. Surely not.

"I mean. It's a bit unfair. I'm sorry I didn't see it til now." Mischa tried to shift so that he could see Dexter's face but his face remained stubbornly pressed against his side.

"What unfair?" Mischa's brain was scrambling. Snippets of their big fight playing through his head. The words, screamed at each other. The first time he had heard Dexter raise his voice at him and mean it. Dexter leaving. Dexter coming back. It had been an emotional few weeks.

"I have people who know." Dexter spoke slowly. "About us." His fingers tickled as they grasped tighter at Mischa's waist but Mischa barely felt it. He barely breathed, afraid if he startled Dexter now, he'd never hear the end of this conversation.

"And I should tell people?" Mischa repeated the original sentence dumbly.

There was a wet, crackling breath at his side. A faint sense of moisture was beginning to soak through his t-shirt.

"I'm so sorry. I've been so selfish."

Mischa felt like he had stepped outside of his body for a moment. Like he was floating over their couch. What was going on?

"You deserve to have people know, too." Dexter continued, "People who know about us. On your side."

Mischa didn't know what to say. What he could say. But he had to say something.

"I do. I have you." His own voice sounded foreign to his own ears. So high, disbelieving.

He felt Dexter shake his head against his shoulder. "No, that's not the same. You deserve people too. Not just me."

"What?" Mischa knew how difficult it must be for Dexter to get out the words but he needed it.

"Do you not want to tell people?" Dexter finally raised his head and Mischa was greeted with the beautiful, tear-streaked face of the love of his life.Who was apparently a little bit aggravated with him right now.

"Dexter, I want to tell the entire world." Mischa wanted to take back the words as soon as he said them. It was too soon. Too quick and fresh after their argument.

But Dexter didn't shrink away this time. Instead, he nodded slowly, finally meeting Mischa's eyes. "Ok."

"Ok?"

A brilliant blush highlighted Dexter's freckles. "Ok. But, can you start small? Maybe tell a few people we know first. Before the world?"

Mischa gazed up at him in wonder. Distantly, he felt the tears leaking from his eyes drip down his throat to mix with the moisture of his shirt. "I can tell people?" He still had to ask, again. To make sure.

Dexter answering shaky grin was breathtaking. Mischa worked on remembering to breathe and function as a human being as Dexter settled back down against his side, tucking his face against his shoulder.

"I can tell people." Mischa repeated softly, feeling the words leave his lips.

Dexter huffed. "Did you not see that goal Baxter just made?"

God, Mischa loved him.

"Dexter, sweetheart, I don't care about the game right now."

"I'm telling Baxter you said that."

"Good. Then I can tell him about that one time last week where I didn't accidently hang up on him."

"What? No!!"

(Dallas Cole)

Mischa figured, if anyone deserved to know first, about him and Dexter, it was Dallas Cole. It was the proper, respectful thing to do. Honor your gay elders and all that jazz.

The problem was, Mischa couldn't just call him up and drop that information on him like that. There was too high a possibility it would come off as if he was actually thankful for Cole. Would show how much it really meant to him that he'd finally got his head out of his ass and kissed Noah on the ice. In front of the whole world. How he had changed the hockey world. That ran the risk of revealing how afraid he was of the truth. How Mischa may have never gotten to have this life with Dexter if it hadn't been for Cole.

Mischa would rather retire and become a hermit at the cottage than acknowledge Dallas Cole in that regard. (Hermit was a new word Elias had taught him last week - Mischa thought it described Dexter perfectly in the summer months. Dexter had not found that so funny.)

Still, the chance to tell Cole stood clear on the horizon. Their next home game was against Ironport. With the ThunderHawks playing better than ever, Mischa was itching for it. A chance to beat Cole again. To win in Silverpine for once.

Really the question remained if he should bring up Dexter before or after the game. Given that Cole was bound to be very boring and his more interesting other half was most likely too busy in grad school to make the trek out to Silverpine, Mischa heavily doubted he'd be seeing much of Cole after the game.

When he had lamented (whined) to Dexter, the love of his life had just looked at him confused. "You can just tell him? Didn't you talk to him after that cup kiss anyway? It'd hardly be a surprise?"

Mischa loved Dexter, dearly. He would cut off his left arm for Dexter. He would not "just tell Dallas Cole" for Dexter.

The next person he asked was Yuna. He loved Yuna Kingsley. He adored Yuna Kingsley. But Dexter was absolutely his mother's son. "Invite him out to lunch before the game!" She had suggested. "Tell him you have something you'd like to talk about!"

Mischa had been glad he had asked over text. He was sure the face he made at that hadn't been polite.

The problem of telling Dallas Cole haunted Mischa up to the start of the game. This was really becoming an issue. His number one thought during warmups should not be about another hockey player. Well, not one that wasn't wearing the number 24 across their back.

Thankfully, the thrill and speed of the game yanked Mischa back to reality and he threw himself into the familiar motions. Hockey, at this point in his life, was as easy as breathing. His arms and legs seemed at times to move faster than his head, moving for him to steal the puck away from the Barracudas.

Hockey made everything easier. On the ice, his life made sense. His brain seemed to calm down, the enormity of his thoughts from before slinking away with each push of his blades against the ice. He could just relax and play well.

Which is why when the chirp came to him as a half formed thought as he chased Cole down the rink, Mischa couldn't hold himself back.

"You know, I wonder if Noah would ever want to know what it like to be with real hockey player." He bit out as he slammed into Cole.

The dazed glare from Cole was gratifying. "Oh, are you offering yourself up, Dragunov?"

A breathless laugh followed Mischa across the rink as Cole skated past him. He had gotten so much better at chirping now that he was out. Mischa would have to compliment Noah next time. Such a good influence.

It wasn't until the second period that he got the chance again. This time, at center ice, leaning in close. "I'm not, what do you call it? Available?"

Cole snorted. "Some girl has finally tied down Mischa Dragunov? Yeah right."