by purpleatheist
Rating: PG-13, but it's pretty tame
Summary: Dany's birthday. It's dumb, I'm sorry, but I wrote it anyway.
Notes: I'm sorry that I can't make Ilya's lack of english language skills more apparent. I'm not very good at writing bad grammar and spelling words the way they sound. It kind of grates on me. Comes from having obsessive grammar-parents, I think. By the way, should I post this to hockey-dreams, too? It seems like everyone there who is interested in slash is over here anyway...
Someone knocked on Dany Heatley's door at about 6:30 at night. He opened it to admit his best friend and lover. "Hey, Kovy. Where have you been all day? Haven't seen you since practice this morning."
"I have been busy," the Russian shrugged. "Come on. We are going somewhere."
"Why?"
He frowned. "You are 21 years old today, yes?"
"How did you know it was my birthday?" Dany asked, figuring he may as well go along and searching for his shoes.
"I looked on...uh, the computer thing."
"Website?"
"Yes. Website."
"Why did you look it up?"
"I thought it would be good that I know."
"You are weird, Kov."
"Yes? When is my birth-day?"
"April 15th," Dany said automatically.
Ilya raised his eyebrows. "See?"
"No," said Dany stubbornly, standing up. "Ok, I'm ready. Where are we going."
"To my house."
"Why, Ilya? You could've just said 'hey, Dany, happy birthday' this morning at practice and left it at that."
"But that is not what I am supposed to be doing, is it not? I thought that I should be...nice to you. To celebrate."
Dany grinned at him. "I really should regulate your TV watching. Even if it does help your English."
"Dany..."
The left wing sighed, then grabbed the front of Ilya's shirt and kissed him deeply. "I'm sorry. Thank you. I'm glad you knew and bothered to do anything about it."
The younger man brightened again and started for the door. Dany followed him. "So, uh, why are you taking me to your house?" Dany asked again.
"Because," Ilya answered.
"But what for?"
"I'm sorry, not understand."
"You so do."
"I am not sure what you are talking about."
"You bastard."
Ilya just smiled. "I know you like me, Dany."
"No I don't."
"Yes, you do."
"I don't."
Ilya smiled again, sweetly. "I love you, Dany."
Dany groaned and covered his face with his hands, much to his friend's amusement. "Dammit. I love you too."
The Russian just looked pleased, chuckling as he pulled up to his building.
When they entered Ilya's apartment, the right wing went straight into the kitchen, Dany following idly. He stopped short upon seeing the room. "You can cook, Kovy?"
"I learned when I was very young. I am good cook."
"You've never cooked before!"
Ilya shrugged. "I am not needing to. But I thought I could surprise you best like this. I am sorry my present is not better."
Still slightly dazed, Dany stepped across the room and slid his arms around Ilya's waist from behind. "It's great. Thank you."
Sighing, the Russian sank back into his friends embrace, and Dany kissed his neck gently. "How much time do we have before we eat?" Dany muttered.
"As long as-" Ilya gasped as Dany hit a particularly sensitive spot. "As long as we want. It can wait."
"Come on, then. I want you for my birthday, too."
Ilya smiled at him. "You get what you want on your birthday, I think," he replied, and their lips met eagerly.