home - hollanov - @hollanovmicrofic - word count: 350 - click here for my hollanov microfic archive on ao3 - takes place shortly before TLG
Ilya had done a lot of interviews in his life.
He'd been asked a lot of questions–some stupid, some prying, many repetitive, and many that he'd asked people to repeat.
But as he sat in a squishy armchair in Harris's office, he honestly thought that he'd never enjoyed an interview more.
Maybe some of the interviews he'd done with Shane. But he wasn't about to admit that.
They were laughing together about the team's abysmal choices in vodka, about Dykstra's terrible taste in music, about how Coach Weibe was terrible at giving directions when they took the team bus anywhere–and Ilya felt relaxed. Happy.
Then, Harris said cheerfully, "Okay, Ilya. Now we're going to do something a little silly, but the fans always love it. I'm gonna say a word, and you have to say the first thing that comes to mind when you hear it, alright? No thinking, just go."
He grinned. "And if my responses are not appropriate for...young, impressionable audience?"
Harris chuckled. "That's why we're not live."
Ilya smirked. Of course Harris didn't trust him to do any of the Centaurs' livestreams. "Okay,” he agreed.
"Winning," Ilya replied quickly, grinning at the camera. "Always."
Harris laughed. "Alright. Goal."
"Rozanov," Ilya shot back, still beaming.
The other man chuckled again. "Okay. Gym."
"Water bottle," Ilya replied before thinking better of it, his mind instantly going back to a moment ten years ago in a dingy hotel gym with two stationary bikes and two nervous teenagers.
But the answer was acceptable and innocent enough, so Harris moved on.
It took Ilya about two seconds after he spoke to realize what he'd said and freeze, eyes widening as he stared, terrified, at Harris.
But the man just looked at him, understanding and kindness in his eyes. "....you...want me to delete that part, buddy?" he asked carefully, reaching to press a hand to Ilya's slightly-trembling knee before leaning back again.
Ilya inhaled, chewing on the inside of his cheek, before nodding sharply. "Uh, yes. Maybe. I think would be best."
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