Chapter Eighteen
Mark Tungsten [off-screen]: Earlier this season, there was a lot of reporting on Islamophobia in fan spaces. Can you say anything about how that affected your game?
Denisov: [long pause] I don’t really like to make these interviews about me. Hockey is a team sport.
Mark Tungsten: You are the only currently active Muslim player in the league, though, correct?
Denisov: Yes, that’s true. But we all face intense scrutiny.
Just looking at what happened to Kilian [Howard], it’s clear that not all fans or—if you’ll excuse me—reporters view our private lives as private.
I try to keep my faith out of the public eye because I don’t enjoy being scrutinized for my personal life.
Mark Tungsten: Thank you for being so candid. Just one more question, and then I’ll let someone ask about the clinic the power play put on yesterday, if you don’t mind. You mentioned Kilian Howard’s recent coming out. Is his sexuality at odds with your religion?
Denisov: Not at all.
Top comments:
stickstickpuck: cry more on this one, bro. You get paid seven point five million a year to play hockey, that’s gonna garner you some public interest.
firecrackers_spark: Really glad to hear Denny supporting Howie right back after Howie stood up for him earlier this year! Worst team, best locker room.
(From pregame media with Damir Denisov, Chicago @ San Francisco, 12/31/2025)
Damir hadn’t packed a prayer mat.
Of course he hadn’t packed a prayer mat; he hadn’t been in the habit of praying regularly for the last twelve years or so. A week of occasionally reincorporating the practice into his life didn’t make up for the long period of negligence, and he also hadn’t had time to find a travel-sized mat.
Damir hadn’t shifted into suddenly strict adherence to salat.
He prayed once a day, usually in the morning, though rarely perfectly on time for Fajr at dawn.
He wasn’t about to start finding local mosques on the Fridays they spent on the road either.
To him, the letter of the law meant less than the spirit of incorporating belief into his life.
So, he slipped out of bed and showered, relishing the ache from being fucked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to repeat the experience often, but perhaps occasionally. As a reward, maybe, when Kilian had been very good.
When he was clean and dry, Damir took one of the fluffy, white unused towels off the rack, pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and returned to the main room.
He had his phone in one hand, toggling open the app to tell him what direction Mecca was, so he didn’t notice Kilian had woken up until a great, whooshing sigh of relief left him.
“I thought you left.”
Kilian was bleary-eyed, sitting up in the sheets with his hair a frizzy mess. Damir couldn’t help but smile at him.
“No, of course not. I was just going to…” Damir trailed off, looking down at the towel and the phone in his hands. “I was going to pray.”
“Oh. Um, do you want me to…go?”
“No, it’s fine.” Damir laid out the towel facing east. He wondered idly how far he’d have to travel before the app pointed him westward to pray to Mecca. Past the international date line perhaps? He put his phone on the table and got to his knees.
He regretted not telling Kilian to leave as he started, the singsong of the words slipping past his lips in time to his movements. He couldn’t lose himself in the repetition of it quite so well with the prickling awareness of Kilian’s eyes on the back of his neck.
Still, he forced himself through the whole of the prayer, breathing deeply though his own thoughts until he could crystallize the things he was thankful for: his own and his family’s health, the team’s current success, Kilian.
When he finished, he was smiling.
“That was really nice,” Kilian told him as he got to his feet and draped the towel over one of the chairs. “No clue what you said, but it sounded great.”
Damir sat at the end of the bed. “Allah is great, blessed is his name, and so on and so forth. Honestly, I don’t think about the words much anymore.”
“So you say the same thing every time?”
Under the covers, Damir found one of Kilian’s feet and rested his hand over the ankle joint. Such a simple joy, to have license to touch. Such a great joy all the same. “Yes, the words and the movements form a sort of ritual.”
“Cool.”
Kilian fell silent, looking at his hands folded in his lap.
Damir waited.
“I guess…” Kilian took a deep breath. “We need to talk about what this, us, means for you. For us.”
“Yes,” Damir agreed.
“We’ll have to keep it a secret.”
Damir frowned.
“So it’ll probably be better if I keep my distance in public.
I can start hanging out with the rookies more.
You could give an interview about…you know, me coming out, something where you can distance yourself publicly.
And you’ll have to go home in the summer to keep up appearances, and if we don’t make the playoffs, you could be gone a long time.
I don’t need exclusivity, I guess. You probably have someone in Russia—”
“I need exclusivity,” Damir broke in, indignant.
“Oh.”
“And I won’t be giving any interviews distancing myself either. Kilian, where is this coming from?”
Kilian pursed his lips. They were chapped. Damir ought to buy him some lip balm. Maybe some gloss while he was at it.
“Your religion, and Russia. I can’t…I don’t want to put you in danger. If that means we can’t be together in public, I can live with it.”
“I can’t.”
“But how…”
“I’ve been thinking about this,” Damir admitted.
“Ever since the article about you was released. You’re right about it not being a good idea to go back to Russia if the world knows we’re more than friends.
But my agent is looking into options for me.
I’m applying for a green card so I can stay year-round no matter what happens with my contract in two years. In five years, I could naturalize.”
“Oh, that’s what you meant about your agent. Fucking Ketchup, psyching me out.” After a moment, a look of shocked disgust crossed Kilian’s face. “Wait, you want to become an American?”
“My options are slightly limited.”
“I guess. But why?”
“Because—” Damir reached for Kilian’s hands. “—watching you, watching other men in the league being who they are openly, made me realize I can’t settle for less. It will be harder, certainly, and it will come with a cost, but I would regret it forever if I didn’t.”
Kilian ran his thumb along the joint of Damir’s. “That’s…big. For us. I don’t want you to regret choosing me if it means you lose so much.”
It was a lot to invest in a new relationship. Especially since neither of them were experienced when it came to romance.
Damir nodded slowly. “I understand your concerns. I think of it more as…I would do this someday anyway. I don’t want to be alone forever, and I don’t want to be with someone on Russia’s terms, or on the terms of many Muslims while we’re at it.
Wanting to be with you made me realize the truth of that.
I called my agent and started working on the green card before I knew you felt the same way. ”
An inelegant snort escaped from Kilian. “I can’t believe you didn’t realize how into you I am. I’ve begged for your cock on multiple occasions.”
“I thought you were just a needy slut.”
Kilian drew in a sharp breath. “Don’t turn me on right now. We’re having a serious conversation.”
“You started it.”
Kilian pinched the meaty part of Damir’s hand at the base of his thumb joint.
Damir pulled away. “Ow!”
“So what are the rules?” Kilian asked. “How do we play this?”
Damir sighed. “Until the green card is sorted, we should be discreet in public. We don’t have to pretend not to be friends or anything, but…well, you know what’s happening in American politics.”
Kilian grimaced. “Right. Okay, sounds doable. But what if being more open once you have the green card means you don’t get citizenship if things keep on getting worse in the States?”
Damir shrugged. “By the time I’m eligible, they’ll have elections again. Who knows what will happen then? If all else fails, I could try to get traded to Canada.”
“I don’t want to play on different teams.” A distinct whine entered Kilian’s voice. “Can’t you marry me to get Canadian citizenship?”
“Now who’s putting a lot on a new relationship?”
“Fine,” Kilian huffed. “Okay. So we play it cool for now, but we can still hang out in public. Awesome. You wanna come to the Sea Lions’ New Year’s party tomorrow with me, then?”
Damir blinked. Attending a party with Kilian’s former team did not sound like playing it cool and being circumspect. It sounded like being at a public event with every queer player in the league.
“I know, I know,” Kilian said hurriedly. “But Breezy said I should bring the whole team, so it would be for everyone. Do you think the Firecrackers would be down?”
“Oh. Yes, why not? I’m sure no one on the team has planned anything for New Year’s.
” Lissy definitely wanted there to be a team party of some sort, never mind they had all gone clubbing only last night.
But he wouldn’t have bothered arranging something in advance.
He relied on being a known athlete to get into every club he’d ever been to.
Kilian beamed. “Great! I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone. You’re going to love Breezy.”
Damir couldn’t help the doubt rising on his expression.
“Well, maybe not,” Kilian admitted. “But you’ll get along with Luca.”
“I get along with you.”
Kilian surged forward and kissed him, morning breath and all, and Damir sank into it for a long moment.
“What are you doing later today?” Damir asked when they pulled apart.
“Um, practice?”
“No, I mean…” Damir sighed. “Do you have plans with the Sea Lions tonight?”
“No.”
“Good. Let’s go out to eat.”
“Okay.” Kilian’s stomach growled “Speaking of…”
“You should get breakfast,” Damir told him.
“So should you.”
“I’ll be down soon. I need to make a phone call.”