Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Ottawa Centaurs Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Luca Haas, Zane Boodram, Wyatt Hayes, Nick Chouinard, Evan Dykstra, Young (Game Changers), LaPointe (Game Changers), Holmberg (Game Changers), Hayden Pike, Brandon Wiebe, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Team Ensemble (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, POV Shane Hollander, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Supportive Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers), Ottawa Centaurs Player Ilya Rozanov, Ottawa Centaurs Player Shane Hollander, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Being Assholes (Game Changers), Shane Hollander Being Shane MF Hollander, BAMF Shane Hollander, Protective Shane Hollander, Homophobia, Social Media, Twitter, Mixed Media, Shane Hollander Calls Ilya Rozanov "Baby", Let Shane Hollander Be Angry! Let Shane Hollander Fight!

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of look, you made me something vicious

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-24 Words: 10,099 Chapters: 1/1

don't blame me, love made me crazy

Summary

hollanov’s third 🧚 @hollanovoodoo
so….did anyone see the way shane had to be held back on the bench when ilya got hit…i don’t think i’ve ever seen him that mad….

wanda v @hellorhighwater
montreal’s really done it now i hope they’re scared for their lives

reagan 𓂀 @shilya_hollanov
his face when the refs called double minor….i fear we’re gonna see a shane hollander we’ve NEVER seen before in the last period

Or, Shane Hollander plays Montreal for the first time since becoming a Centaur. It goes about as well as he expects.

Notes

...so i'm back with another fuck montreal fic 😌 is anyone really surprised ?? parts of this were inspired by a comment i got from @aquamarine_virgo on the golden age of mosaic broken hearts, which is my other main fuck montreal fic (the first one in this series) !!

general disclaimer that i did not use ai for any part of this, all em dashes are my own because i love them thank you. also disclaimer that i don't really know hockey and all my knowledge comes from these books/show (seriously my google search history rn is just "hockey penalty" "highsticking vs slashing" "difference between game misconduct and major" etc etc) so keep that in mind for all of the hockey parts !! title from 'don't blame me' by taylor swift ofc obsessed with that song always

also, you can tap on the russian to see the translation, hope that makes it a little easier than having it in the end notes, and hope you enjoy <3

ESPN: Montreal vs. former captain Shane Hollander and Ottawa Centaurs; find out where to watch the heated game tomorrow night!

HockeyNewsCentral: Theriault Doubles Down on Decision to Let Hollander Walk, Says ‘We’re stronger than we’ve ever been’

PucksForGossip: Ottawa Centaurs Ilya Rozanov, Zane Boodram, and Luca Haas spotted at popular Russian bakery in Montreal evening before facing Voyageurs!

MontrealGazette: Shane Hollander’s Betrayal and What it Means for the Voyageurs Roster

“I have snacks!”

Ilya’s loud announcement fills up their shared hotel room as he walks in carrying two plastic bags in one hand, and Shane looks up from where he’s been reviewing tape of Montreal’s previous game on the bed. His glasses rest on the bridge of his nose, and he holds back a small smirk as he catches the way Ilya falters for a split-second when he notices.

It doesn’t last long, though, and soon Ilya’s standing next to Shane. Leaning down, he uses his free hand to cup Shane’s cheek before kissing him gently. Shane loses himself in it for a moment, because even after all these years, Ilya Rozanov still has the ability to make him lose all sense of time, place, and body. He’s not complaining, though.

Ilya pulls back—which Shane is a little disappointed by, he can admit—before his eyes light up as he remembers something and he shoves the plastic bags in Shane’s face.

“We found Russian bakery!” Ilya drops the bags in Shane’s lap. “Maybe bought more than we need.”

Shane laughs at the mock guilt in Ilya’s voice, rifling through the bags to see what Ilya had bought. If this had been a year ago, he probably wouldn’t have even touched any of it, but Shane is trying to be better. Trying to work through and process his difficult relationship with food and control and diet with a therapist and with himself. It’s not easy, and it hasn’t been a journey without faults, but he’s at least better about it than he had been before.

Now, Shane mostly refuses because they’ve already had dinner and he’d already brushed his teeth before Ilya had made his way back to the room. Besides, he knows that tomorrow, after their game, Ilya will most likely get him to taste everything, and Shane will let him feed him small samples of it all. Because Ilya loves seeing Shane try any kind of Russian food, and Shane loves Ilya. It’s as simple as that, sometimes.

Shane gets up to set all the food on the desk next to the TV in the front of the room and settles back in bed to keep studying the tape. Meanwhile, Ilya showers and finishes his night routine—a relatively simple one, at least when compared to Shane’s fifteen-step process—before finally sliding into bed next to him.

“Tape?” Ilya murmurs as Shane places his glasses on the nightstand, then sinks into Ilya’s side. His husband’s arm makes it way around his shoulders, and Shane hums affirmatively. “They are bad team now. Letting their best player go, so stupid.”

Shane lets a smile pull his lips up, even as he lightly smacks Ilya’s stomach with the back of his hand. “Their new center doesn’t have as much depth, but he’s…brash.”

“Brash?”

“Like really cocky, I guess,” Shane explains, and hears Ilya snort quietly. “Arrogant, too. And he wouldn’t stop chirping Scott during their last game, so I think there’s a reason he adjusted to the team so quickly.”

It still stings, thinking about his former team and the end. Thinking about the thousands of paper cuts he’d brushed away during all his years with them because he thought they were his friends, and he’d grown up ignoring all sorts of microagressions when it came to hockey players and locker rooms. Thinking about the fact that maybe they never really had been. Thinking about the way they turned on him so quickly, after. How they’d let him go, just as fast.

Eleven years of his blood, sweat, and tears, all gone in a blink of an eye. Three cups, all of a sudden irrelevant because he fell in love. A team he thought he would retire with, suddenly drawing lines and making him their number one enemy.

So, yeah. It still stings.

“Will beat their shitty, homophobic asses in their own arena, yes?” Ilya states more than asks. “Will show them the mistake they made.”

“Yeah, but they’re gonna be out for bl—”

“And we will be out for theirs,” Ilya cuts him off in a decisive tone, and looks down while using his hand on Shane’s jaw to tilt his head up. Their eyes meet, and it helps the thrum under his skin recede slightly, even more when Ilya lets his thumb graze his cheekbone back and forth. “Team is ready for long game. For…dirty one.”

And that just fucking sucks, because Shane doesn’t want it to be like this. Doesn’t want his team to be prepared for dirty hits and harder checks and nasty chirps, all because they’re going up against his former team. But somewhere in the back of his mind, Shane can acknowledge that he’s prepared for it, too. Knows that it’s the first time Montreal is playing Ottawa after he left—see: was forced to leave—and there is probably no way to avoid the shitshow this game is going to be.

There’s also a small part of him that still feels the visceral way that that team had cut him open so brutally and left him hollow and numb and so fucking afraid of opening himself back up to another team. The Centaurs are genuine and amiable in a way that leads to a team dynamic that Shane’s never been a part of before, but it hadn’t been easy to get to where he is today with them. And that tiny part of him, the one that Shane doesn’t like to acknowledge most of the time, wants to burn Montreal as viciously as they did to him.

Wants them to hurt, like he did, for years and years.

“I always—” Shane lets the iPad drop down into his lap in frustration with a huff. “I always just wanted to play hockey. Not…not whatever fucked up thing this is.”

Ilya grabs his tablet, twisting to place it on the nightstand on his side, before grabbing Shane with both arms and shuffling down the bed until they're both fully lying down. Shane rotates, letting his head rest in the crook of Ilya’s neck and presses his hand against his chest. He can feel the gentle thump of Ilya’s heart this way, and the rhythmic sound soothes him, like it always does.

“I know, любимыйlove,” Ilya says, slowly running a hand through Shane’s hair. “I know.”

shane's freckles ⋆˙⟡ @shanehollandersfreckles
first game against m*****l tomorrow….i’m Scared

ilya rozanov #1 defender @roza81
dw queen hollanovoodoo is real the cens got this in the bag 😙

zahara <3 @stillattheblackdog
also after young posted a story yesterday with ready for it, we got a little tayvoodoo on our side too

Joe P @joe_p83
I can’t wait to see Montreal destroy that team tomorrow, especially after a certain loser captain abandoned us

shane’s lawyer 🥊 @hollandefender
calling THEEE shane hollander a “loser captain” be so fucking fr i think you need to take a careful look at this: www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shane_Hollander/#Honors_and_achievements

janine ˖᯽ ݁˖ @babysaliar
blah blah blah mtl vs ott game tomorrow can we talk about how happy ilya looked in that russian bakery with bood and haasy 🥺🥺

luiza 𓆩♡𓆪ི @hollanitsover
m******l continuing to paint shane leaving their team as a “betrayal” when those homophobic racist shitheads basically forced him out is certainly a #choice

MLH Gossip @mlhgossipctr
Trouble in hockey paradise? Centaurs’ captain Ilya Rozanov seen out and about without fellow Centaur and husband, Shane Hollander. Read all the juicy details now!

“We ready, boys?”

Bood’s voice is nearly a yell in the locker room, and the rest of their team whoops and screams in response. Shane feels a small smile curl his lips when he sees the way Young and Bergy jump up and down to hype themselves and the team up. The rookies never fail to bring a smile to his face, honestly. He really hadn’t known it could feel like this, to have a team that doesn’t feel like just colleagues. But the Centaurs have enthusiastically enveloped him into their family and Shane will always appreciate that.

“That team out there fucked up,” Bood continues amidst the chaotic environment, “But fuck them, because now we got Shane motherfucking Hollander, don’t we?”

Laughs and cheers rise up, and Shane’s cheeks heat up at the attention and the call out. He feels hands grip his shoulders, and he barely has time to prepare himself before Ilya is lightly shaking him back and forth. Bood’s almost manic grin widens when he catches Shane’s eye, and it makes his smile widen in return.

“And so we’re gonna go out there, on their ice, with all their fans screaming at the top of their lungs, and we’re gonna murder them.” Bood’s pretty much yelling by the end, but it works. The atmosphere in the locker room is almost tangible, the tension of the game undercut by the energy of Bood’s speech.

And Shane doesn't think he’d been a bad captain by any means, but his locker room at Montreal had never felt like this before a game. He knows now that it hadn’t only been because of him, but, well. He never got the hang of doing speeches like this. Bood jokes a lot about handing the A off to him, but Shane truly thinks, if there can only be one, it should stay right where it is. Because the air in this locker room feels electric, laced with anticipation and grit and power.

“Mur-der them!” LaPointe emphasizes, tapping his stick on the ground with each syllable, and some of the other Cens join in with his chant. It’s loud enough that Shane is almost scared Montreal can hear it from their own locker room.

“Okay, okay,” Ilya cuts in, and the locker room settles quickly. The Russian’s speeches are almost always fun, usually filled with things that Harris absolutely cannot post on their socials, and so naturally, the team loves them. “Bood said everything important, yes?”

There’s a few seconds of loud shouting and roaring.

“This will be dirty game, we all know. Sorry, любимыйlove,” Ilya flashes an overexaggerated frown in Shane’s direction, who rolls his eyes. Their teammates chuckle lightly. “But also I am not sorry, I want Montreal crying, yes?” Ilya’s voice starts to rise as he continues, moving away from where he’s been standing next to Shane and walking around the locker room. “I want to see tears in eyes when they leave their ice. Blood is also okay!”

Shane starts to protest, but it gets drowned out by the wave of cheers from their team. And truthfully, that part of him that’s a little bit vengeful has been rearing its head since he got to the arena; the quiet rage that’s been boiling in the pit of Shane’s stomach since he left Montreal has been burning since Bood started talking. Shane tries not to be violent on the ice as much as he can, but only because he doesn’t necessarily like it. Not because he can’t. And Bood and Ilya’s speeches are taking him back to the rush of fury he’d felt in the aftermath of his last game with Montreal. All those years, all that hockey, all just brushed to the side like it didn’t fucking matter.

All because, at seventeen, Shane had fallen for a boy with the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. All because, at thirty-one, Shane loves a man with the most genuine heart he’s ever known.

So, maybe, he doesn’t need to put on his media-trained smile and his polite mask for once. Maybe he can go out there and play like he knows Montreal will. Maybe, he can show his former team and all of Montreal that he had been their star. That he’d taken a team on a years-long losing streak, and turned them into three-time champions.

And that now, as long as he’s playing, they’ll never win again.

“—is important game, and we will win,” Ilya is still declaring confidently as Shane tunes back in, the captain’s eyes flicking from player to player. “But I want Montreal crushed. We destroy them, okay?”

The chorus of whoops and loud cheers of agreement rises to an almost overwhelming volume, and Shane holds back a slight wince. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the pre-game magnetic atmosphere, but combined with his already frenetic emotions, the buzz sitting under his skin flares up.

But Ilya is Ilya, and he always seems to know everything about him, somehow. He draws the attention of the rest of their team as his eyes flicker away from Shane, gets them to quiet down as he starts the last part of his speech.

“They will say things,” Ilya states, his tone dropping into something more somber and deliberate. “So, I cannot promise I will not start fight.” His husband looks over at him, holds his gaze for a moment longer than he’d been doing with the rest of their team, before his lips curve up into a smug smirk. “But I can promise I will finish it.”

Shane can’t help the small laugh that escapes his throat at that, sees the way Hayes nudges Ilya’s shoulder purposefully, almost as if he’s saying a silent we have your back.

“We got your back,” Bood reiterates out loud, with some of their other teammates chiming in. “Now let’s go win this thing, yeah?”

The locker room has never been louder, Shane thinks.

The Hockey News ☑️ @TheHockeyNews
Puck drops for the highly awaited MTL vs OTT game in just under ten minutes 🏒 How is everyone feeling?

ilya’s russian accent @rozbyanyothername
like i shouldn't have had that last redbull 🙃

kajal ☾𖤓 @rozanovian
i don’t think i was this nervous for my WEDDING my wife is sitting next to me telling me i’m gonna pull all my hair out at this point 😭😭

gabrielle 💌 @nowiseedaylight
don’t worry babe i’ll still love you if you go bald 🤭

comeau’s gf @mtlwifey62
if #that team wins today they’re gonna be so insufferable omfg montreal pls you’re the only ones who can save us 🙏

kristen @bylerbaddie
assuming your definition of insufferable is “not being homophobic or a complete piece of shit”

shane hollander’s bodyguard @hollanguard
GUYS THINK ABOUT IT FIRST LINE ROZY BOOD BARRETT SECOND LINE HOLZY HAAS YOUNG AND HAYES IN GOAL LIKE???? montreal stands NO fucking chance okay we’re about to demolish them i would wish them luck but i actually want them sobbing by the time the game ends

georgie 🌼 @atthebeachwoodcafe
don’t worry guys the centaurs will win because they have the power of gay love and friendship on their side!!!!

pike’s bby 💗 @haydlove35
OH SHIT ITS STARTING FUCK ME

The second Shane watches Ilya bend down for the first face-off of the game and sees the puck drop, he instantly knows it’s going to be a rough game. Not that he’d really expected it to be anything else, but it really hits him when he sees the glares on nearly all of the Voyageurs’ faces. All pointed at his husband.

Something in his chest aches, a swell of unfiltered anger rolling through him. Anger at their blatant audacity to so ferociously hate Ilya simply because of the act that he puts on for the public. Simply because he’s the man that turned Shane into a “traitor.” And suddenly, Shane wishes he could redo that last moment of facing them in the locker room. Wishes he could go back and let this—this wrath spill out from his lungs, his heart, his throat, his lips. Wishes he could tell them exactly how long he’s been something with Ilya Rozanov.

Tell them that they’ve never known a version of him without Ilya.

Ilya wins the face-off, because Shane’s spent enough time reviewing games to know Rodier—Montreal’s new center—is mostly all bark and no bite. He sees that bark, though. Sees the rough checks against the boards, sees his lips moving whenever he gets close to Ilya. And although Ilya mostly manages to keep his reactions in check so far, he knows his husband’s tells like the back of his hand now. Can see the almost imperceptible twitch of his jaw and the way his grip on his hockey stick tightens just enough for his knuckles to pale.

But before Ilya—or any of his team, because he notices the way Bood and Barrett are also getting worked up—can do anything about it, the lines switch and Shane’s stepping onto the ice with Haas and Young.

And then all of a sudden, everything rushing through his mind falls away. It feels like the audio just—cut out, and he’s only left with the sound of his skates gliding against the ice and the puck sliding against it. He doesn’t hear the hundreds of fans in the stands that used to chant his name and wear his jersey booing and screaming that he’s a traitor. His attention simply narrows to the rink, to the puck, to the goal.

He’s good at this, always has been. It’s what makes him Shane Hollander, after all.

Shane makes his way down the ice, keeping the puck away from Wilson as he comes barrelling over. He weaves in and out, pushes forward past him and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the opening for Haas. Flicks his wrist, the motion muscle memory by now, after years and years of practice and drills and perfecting every millisecond of it.

Drapeau’s eyes are laser-focused on Haas once the puck hits his stick, and he leans to the left as Haas’s body shifts. But Shane’s worked on this move with Luca in practices, and he knows it almost as well as his own. Mostly because Shane does have his own version of it. It’s something Ilya—or rather, the entire team—loves teasing him about, because there are already too many jokes about Ilya adopting Luca. This, unfortunately, just adds fuel to the fire.

The puck flies into the top right corner of the net, and the noise of the loud buzzer suddenly makes everything rush back into Shane’s ears. Luca lifts his arm up in celebration, and Shane, Young, and Boyle all crash into him with excited yells and an enthusiastic hug before they skate over to the bench to high-five down the line. They’re on the board only five minutes into the game, and Shane’s played with Montreal long enough to know that that pricks at their confidence.

“Perfect assist, мой любимыйmy love,” Ilya rumbles quietly when Shane gets to him, and the tips of his ears heat up a little at the pet name. It’s still baffling to him sometimes, that he gets to have this. Gets to play hockey with his husband, and that they’re out, and that the world knows about them. That Ilya can call him my love in front of all of their teammates, and it’s completely okay. That they can claim each other like this out loud.

It gives Shane a kind of high he only usually feels after sinking a flawless goal.

It’s hard to let that good feeling last long, though, when Shane leans over for the next face-off. Rodier is across from him, a cruel set to his lips that immediately spells trouble and has Shane preemptively bracing for the impact of whatever shit is going to fall out of his mouth.

“The traitor himself, finally,” Rodier spits out, tone acerbic in a way that slithers coldly down Shane’s spine. “Left a good team just to fucking bounce on dick. Tell me, Hollander, Rozanov the only one that reaps the benefits or does the rest of your team get that privilege too?”

And Shane, well. He’s never been one to really get into the whole chirping thing with anyone but Ilya. That one time with Scott backfired spectacularly, and Shane usually likes letting his hockey do the talking, anyway. It’s enough to shut the other side up, most of the time. But he can’t help himself this time, gazing across the red line at the opposing center.

“Why?” Shane asks, voice low and almost airy, because he almost wants to laugh. This is the best Montreal could scramble up to replace him? He briefly wonders if the only requirement for Theriault had been ‘must be aggressively homophobic.’ “You sad it’s not you, Rodier?”

Rodier’s eyes flash with hatred as the words sink in, darkening as the referee moves closer with the puck in his hand. His mouth opens, but unfortunately, Shane will never get to hear whatever middle-school chirp he was going to say, because the puck is on the ice, and he slaps it towards Young.

It’s almost pitiful, how easy it is.

The rest of the period sees no goals for either side, despite the Centaurs’ best efforts. Not Montreal’s, because it’s kind of a little sad, the organizational mess they are now. Hayden and J.J. are subtly ignored more often than not when they’re on ice, and the rest of the team seems more focused on playing as physical of a game as they legally can. Illegally, too, based on the hit Ilya had taken in the last five minutes of the period. And the one Shane had taken in the last minute, so much that it takes him a few seconds to get up off the ice after getting the wind knocked out of him.

Neither of them are called by the referees, though, and it fully sinks in for Shane, the unmistakable bias of having to play this game in Montreal.

The period ends, and Shane glances up to see the satisfying 0 on Montreal’s side of the scoreboard. But there’s still two left, and he knows what it’s like to be in the Montreal locker room after a scoreless period. Knows that his former team is going to come charging out with renewed violence.

Ilya’s shoulder lightly bumps into his own—almost a silent kind of reassurance that Shane’s come to appreciate from his husband—as the team makes its way towards the locker room, and well. At least they’ll be ready for it.

ESPN ☑️ @espn
MTL v. OTT UPDATE: 1st period ends at 1-0 for the Centaurs, with rookie Haas getting the first goal of the game (Hollander, A)!

junebug ᢉ𐭩 @seasonofthestyx
oh the complete DISASTER that montreal is on the ice….what happened to being “stronger than ever”?? what happened to “we don’t need hollander”?? what happened to “he was only holding us back”???? 🤨

inez swift 𓏲ּ𝄢 @bettydeservesbetter
i fear it’s becoming more and more obvious that shane was the only thing holding that team together

₊°｡❆ noelle @closethebookbabe
is it just me or were both of the checks against ilya and shane at the end of first period lk illegal

Jim Smith @jsmith_123
This is hockey, not fucking cheerleading or some other pansy ass game. If they can’t take the hits like real men, they should do what they should’ve done years ago and retire.

francine ˖°📷 ༘ @tgifrancine
hey @jsmith_123 come talk to me when you have four stanley cups, rookie of the year, conn smythe, an olympic medal, hart memorial, and two golds plus two silvers from wjc

only here for jj 👰‍♀️ @boiziaumarryme
why are jj and hayden barely getting any passes 😕 i’m starting to think that all the rumors about montreal’s locker room were right ngl

MLH News ☑️ @PuckReportMLH
BREAKING: The Montreal Voyageurs, against past tradition but perhaps unsurprisingly, did NOT do a tribute for Shane Hollander despite this being their first game against the former captain post-trade.

ottawa’s #1 fan @censforlife
if rodier doesn’t shut the fuck up he’s gonna get bitch slapped by every single cens player (and i will be eating popcorn and enjoying every second)

ottawa’s #1 fan @censforlife
on second thought, @t_rodier_hockey keep yapping it’s been a while since i’ve had the chance to thirst over an ilya rozanov fight

Sportsnet ☑️ @Sportsnet
MTL captain Comeau, in post-period interview, attributes Montreal’s messy play so far to a “distracting” game, seemingly referencing Hollander and Rozanov on the other side.

mattie 🏹 @mattiethinks_18
rolled my eyes so hard it hurt if you can’t play hockey bc you’re “distracted” by two men on the other team WHO HAVEN’T EVEN DONE ANYTHING INSANE PDA WISE BTW then maybe just MAYBE you’re a bad hockey player

The second period is when everything goes to hell, relatively.

It’s already been a kind of hell, if you ask Shane, but he’d been right, when he’d guessed that Montreal would come out swinging for their lives.

His ribs ache, after a particularly brutal slam into the boards from Comeau. Uncalled by the ref, even though he’d snapped the puck out to Dykstra right before it. Almost no Centaur has gone unharmed; even Haas had been shoved by Gagnon and Shane had almost lost it when he’d seen the blood at the corner of the rookie’s mouth. He’d also seen the way Bood had to hold back Ilya on the bench.

But Ilya’s unanimously been the main target of their venom-lined aggression, and Shane loathes it. He’d come into this prepared to have Montreal’s focus after how everything went down—everyone had, truthfully—but they seem to want to take out his husband instead.

Ilya, for his part, hadn’t started any fights yet, but he knows that it’s only a matter of time with the way this is going. Miraculously, they almost make it to the end of the second period. Almost.

Shane hears Ilya call out to Barrett on the ice, set up for a shot on goal. Troy fakes right, throwing off Koch, before slapping the puck over to Ilya. It’s an impeccable pass, and Shane knows Ilya’s game well enough that he knows this is about to be a beautiful goal.

Or it would’ve been, if Rodier didn’t lift his stick as he approaches Ilya.

It feels like time slows down for a split second, and Shane sees the determination on the other center’s face. Sees the recklessness of someone trying to prove themselves to a team that’s starting to become known for their bigotry. Sees what’s about to happen only a millisecond before it actually does.

Rodier’s stick slashes against Ilya’s face, clipping his mouth enough to draw blood, and the arena explodes.

Shane stands up off the bench with a roar of indignation, his hands on the board as he tries to vault over. Wiebe and Haas are quick to react and hold him back, and Shane struggles against them, because he’s done.

He’s done catering to this fucking team who can’t seem to leave well enough alone. Done letting them walk all over him like he had for years when he shared a locker room with them. Done seeing them hurt his husband, just because he loves Shane.

“Hollander!” Wiebe barks in his ear as he tries to keep him from jumping onto the ice.

The scrum on ice is nothing but chaotic. Bood had immediately thrown his gloves down and gone at Rodier as soon as Ilya had been hit, and it hadn’t been long before players from both sides had rushed in to join.

Ilya seems to have shaken off the hit, because his gloves are also on the ice, and he’s in the middle of throwing a punch at Comeau. There’s still blood on his teeth and lips, a startling red painting his skin, and something in Shane’s stomach clenches at that sight.

But that’s besides the point, and even that doesn’t help dissipate his rage.

“Holzy,” Holmberg says from next to him, because Shane’s vision is still red-tinged. This ire is razor-sharp and all-consuming for the first time in his life. “Rozy’s good, okay? You gotta calm down. The team’s got him.”

By the time the refs manage to break up the fight, though, the damage had been done. Shane’s sure nearly every player on the ice is going to go home with at least one bruise or cut, if not multiple. Even Hayden hadn’t managed to avoid it, but he’d seen the way it happened. Seen how his friend had stepped in front of Rodier’s jab at Ilya. He feels a rush of immense gratitude for his friend, always present but it lingers heavily right now, knowing that despite his and Ilya’s constant bickering and pretending they’re not friends, he hadn’t hesitated in blocking another attack against him. From Hayden’s own team.

He makes a quick note in his mind to offer Hayden and Jackie a weekend of babysitting.

Now that the fight’s over, Shane drops back onto the bench, reels in his blatant desire to go out on the ice and fucking deck Rodier.

“If that’s not a major…” Shane mutters, a hint of warning lacing his tone despite him not finishing the sentence. Wiebe nods, the expression on his face betraying his irritation at the high-sticking from Montreal.

In an absolutely, unsurprising turn of events, the refs call a double minor penalty on Rodier. Shane is immediately pissed off again, but he can’t go out there and yell at the refs for being blind, as much as he wants to.

There’s only a few seconds left in the period, so he’s at least grateful that they’ll start off the last period with a nearly four-minute power play. But the score is still 1-0, neither team scoring in this period. Hayes has been an absolute powerhouse in goal, stopping every shot from the Montreal forwards. Unfortunately, so has Drapeau.

The locker room during intermission is fraught with tension.

“Ilya,” Shane starts when they’re both in front of their stalls, but his husband cuts him off.

“Is okay,” Ilya asserts, catching his eye with an insistent look. “I am okay.”

Shane grabs a small towel from his stall, gently wiping away the dried blood still on Ilya’s bottom lip that he’d missed. Ilya leans into his hand on his cheek for a few moments, and Shane’s heart skips a beat at the tenderness of it all. In the middle of a game, of all things.

God, he loves Ilya Rozanov. So fucking much.

When Shane finally lets his hands drop away from Ilya, a sigh punches out of his lungs. “That was a major, at the least. Should’ve been game misconduct.”

“Refs’ve been ignoring calls all night,” Troy cuts in before Ilya can say anything, voice bitter. “Since when has a high-stick to the face ever been a fucking minor?”

“At least it was a double?” LaPointe adds tentatively, but shakes his head before anyone can throw an are you serious expression at him. “Nevermind, fucking fuck the refs, man. Fuck Montreal, too.”

“Yes, fuck Montreal,” Ilya agrees resolutely, before his lips curve up. “But not in fun way, yes?”

A few chuckles break out, because Ilya’s good at this part. Knows how to be a captain so well, knows how to hold the tension, then mold it into something else during games like this.

Wiebe takes over, discussing things with individual players around the locker room. Shane tries to listen, does his best to nod along, but his neurons are firing at a rate he can’t keep up with at the moment. Even Ilya shifting slightly to cross his pinky with his own isn’t enough to soothe the maelstrom of emotions in his brain and chest, like it usually is.

“Okay?” Ilya quietly asks under his breath, and a low scoff leaves Shane’s throat.

“No.”

“I am okay, Shane, I promise. He did not even knock out tooth.”

Shane shakes his head a little with a huff, eyes dropping to his skates, tracing his laces with sharp precision to give his mind something to do, to focus on. “I know, I know, just—”

He almost doesn’t want to give his fury a voice, doesn’t want to speak it out loud into the locker room, because if there’s one thing that he’s always been known for in the hockey realm, it’s his diplomatic nature. His sportsmanship, his politeness, his golden boy persona.

But at the moment, Shane wants to burn it all down and stand in the ruins with his head held high as the world looks on.

“I’m mad,” he finally admits, keeping his voice low. “So fucking angry, Ilya.”

Ilya, to his benefit, doesn’t laugh or look surprised or dismiss it. Because Ilya Rozanov has always been the only one who knows every single part of him, knows the shades of good and the shades of gray that live in Shane. Because Shane’s never had to hide this, not from him.

“Okay.” His husband squeezes his pinky with his own lightly, waits for Shane to twist a little until their eyes meet. “You are allowed to be, I think.”

It’s simple, so simple, but the words lodge themselves into a space behind his ribs. Thrum like wings in his chest. Match the deafening pulse of his heartbeat in his ears.

He’s allowed to be.

What a liberating thought, he thinks, meeting Ilya’s gaze as the edge of Shane’s mouth curls upward.

zahara <3 @stillatheblackdog
DOUBLE MINOR?? FOR HIGHSTICKING TO THE FACE?? oh montreal refs i hope karma comes for your asses just as hard as shane and ilya will come for drapeau’s during the power play

Sportsnet ☑️ @Sportsnet
Checked in with Ottawa’s coach, Wiebe, after end of second period: “It’s just like with any game, the boys want to win. And I know they’re going to come back out here and give this everything they got.”

just another montreal girl @voyageursgirl
y’all know i’m the first one to defend montreal but i’m…Noticing some things. rodier should’ve been ejected bc that was 100% intentional

christie n @drapeausmyhusband
fuck off and go hop on ottawa’s dick like you so badly want to, the voyageurs don’t need fans like you

just another montreal girl @voyageursgirl
bitch if you can’t see that rodier hit rozanov’s face on purpose you need to go get your eyes checked

hollanov’s third 🧚 @hollanovoodoo
so….did anyone see the way shane had to be held back on the bench when ilya got hit…i don’t think i’ve ever seen him that mad….

wanda v @hellorhighwater
montreal’s really done it now i hope they’re scared for their lives

reagan 𓂀 @shilya_hollanov
his face when the refs called double minor….i fear we’re gonna see a shane hollander we’ve NEVER seen before in the last period

aliyah 🗡️ @notlucahaas
luca getting pushed from behind im about to fly to montreal just to cut a bitch 🔪

bbq sauce on my 🫢 @boodoutbaby
bood dropping his gloves the SECOND roz got hit THAT’S MY MAN YESSIR

andre @adelgado99
a completely scoreless period with the score still being 1-0, both sides aren’t playing to their full potential. hoping we see some better hockey in the next period

mads 🐳 @heartlikeahotel
well andre i’m assuming it’s hard to play to your “full potential” when the other side is playing the dirtiest hockey i’ve ever seen in my life 

Shane’s line is sent out to start off the last period, with Ilya joining in for the power play. He skates to the center, jaw set firmly. And in spite of the tumultuous second period, in spite of the temper he’d been trying to control, in spite of his small revelation at the end of intermission, he almost feels…calm.

Calm because they have the power play, and his husband is on his right, giving him a knowing nod. Calm because he trusts his team, trusts their choices and their plays. Calm because he knows this sport, inside and out.

Calm because at the end of the day, he’s still Shane fucking Hollander, and Rodier and the rest of the Voyageurs will never know what that feels like.

He bends down for the face-off against Comeau, tapping his stick down hard on the ice.

“You know, wish Rods hit Rozanov harder,” the other center breathes out, a twisted grin on his face. “Knocked out some teeth and fucked up that pretty boy smile.”

Shane lets the words roll off his back, not giving them the attention Comeau wants. Instead, he stays silent, ignoring Ilya’s searching look, too. Locks eyes with Comeau as he leans forward, and lets the tiniest cold smirk play at the corner of his lips.

Comeau, he notes with suppressed mirth, doesn’t seem to know what to do with this version of Shane, and he revels in it. Revels in being this—this concept that the Voyageurs can’t comprehend anymore, can’t reconcile with the one they know.

The puck drops, and Shane shoots it off towards Ilya in a blink of an eye, quicker than Comeau can even react. It’s exhilarating, the cold air on his face and the rush past his ears and the glide of his skates as they push their way towards the goal.

Shane’s always appreciated hockey, but ever since he’s gotten to be on the same team as Ilya, there’s a new thread of joy intertwined into it. One that comes from skating alongside his husband, reading each other’s minds. Being the only ones able to match each other, just like it’s been for years, even when they’d been rivals.

He fucking loves it.

Because it took some time after everything that happened, for Shane to remember that he likes hockey. Took a while for him to enjoy playing it again. But here, now, sliding past defenders and weaving around with his husband on the other end keeping up with him step for step, Shane is—he’s having fun.

Their power play advantage gives them the edge they’d been looking for, Shane sinking in a shot top-shelf. Ilya gets another one three minutes later, off an assist from Boyle. 

And just like that, they're up 3-0.

The lines switch, and Shane leaves the ice with a subtle grin.

But good things never last—at least when it comes to Montreal—and before he knows it, Rodier is gunning not just for Ilya, but Bood and Barrett, too. Laine and Roy aren’t much better, their tall, bulky frames knocking roughly into Centaurs left and right.

It all comes to a head when Ilya trips, or rather, is tripped by a hook around his calf by none other than Rodier.

Ilya goes down but gets back up immediately, because players trip all the time and it’s not all that uncommon. Something Shane wishes his old team had remembered, at the end of last season. What is uncommon, though, is the hooking, and for once, one of the refs actually calls the penalty in. Rodier goes to the sin bin, and Shane is vaulting over onto the ice for the power play again.

“Ты в порядкеYou good?” Shane checks in with Ilya when he’s close enough, his eyes flicking over his husband from head to toe, just to make sure.

“даYes,” Ilya responds softly, before switching back to English. “Hat trick would be fun, yes?”

Shane exhales a short laugh, before nodding.

“Me or you?”

There’s a wicked sort of smirk on Ilya’s face, one that sends a desperate rush of arousal down Shane’s spine, even under the current circumstances.

“почему не мы обаWhy not both of us?”

ESPN ☑️ @espn
MTS v. OTT UPDATE: Centaurs now up 3-0, with goals from Rozanov (Boyle, A) and Hollander (Rozanov, A)!

harris and troy’s love child @censadoptmepls
everyone cheer the ref finally called a penalty against montreal 🤓

luiza 𓆩♡𓆪ི @hollanitsover
guys….this might be the first time in his entire career that shane hollander has stepped on the ice looking like he knows that he is The Shane MF Hollander like?? HIS SMIRK AT COMEAU????? GETTING A GOAL IN UNDER 30 SECONDS?????

janine ˖᯽ ݁˖ @babysaliar
we’re witnessing a never before seen shane hollander character arc in real time with our own eyes!!! #blessed

andrea @friendstothis
no because seeing shane’s face before the puck drop, i’m both scared and weirdly turned on…?

world’s first hollanov stan @hollanovfounder8124
HOLLANOV POWER PLAY FUCK YEA

comeau’s gf @mtlwifey62
what a stupid call, rodier’s stick was nowhere near rozanov’s leg. guess the refs have joined the centaurs bandwagon

bri 👑 @pike_baby_98
hey girlie, those glasses you have on don’t seem to be enough for your blind ass, maybe go get thicker ones

Shane gets another goal on the power play, this time on a pass from Young. The stadium’s nearly shaking with the intensity of boos coming from the stands, but Shane doesn’t care. Not when they’re now up 4-0 and Hayes continues to block every Montreal shot.

Not when they’re celebrating Shane’s goal and he feels Ilya press a quick kiss to the side of his helmet, so reminiscent of a similar one from four years ago at All Stars. This time, however, Shane’s allowed to lean into it for a split-second longer than he should. He catches the smirk Chouinard aims at him, and barely resists flipping him off in the middle of a game.

The game descends into further chaos from there as the clock ticks down.

Montreal seems to have accepted that they’re not winning this one, but all that allows them to do is redirect their attention to chirping viciously, trying to goad the Centaurs into fights and penalties.

Shane manages to ignore it for the most part, knows that they’re using words because their hockey isn’t enough. Not enough to put them on the board, not enough to get them to the playoffs later in the season, not enough to get another cup without him. He’s skilled at that, letting insults enter through one ear and go right out the other. It’s how he’s survived this long in this environment, after all.

And then Rodier opens his fucking mouth again.

“Saw that kiss from your boy earlier,” he hisses at Shane before the face-off. “Makes me wonder what his family thinks of him, hm?” The center’s eyes glint with satisfaction when Shane tenses slightly, and he continues with his harsh words, knowing they’ll hit the mark. “What was his mom’s name again…Irina, right?”

“Shut th—”

“From that little PR foundation you have, yeah?” Rodier cuts him off, and Shane can see that this is not going to go anywhere good even as his blood starts boiling at hearing Ilya’s mom’s name. The Voyageur is desperate, searching for something, anything to throw Shane off his game. “Probably killed herself just to get away from him. Couldn’t stand that her son’s a f—”

Shane’s gloves are off before he even consciously realizes it. His fist hits Rodier’s jaw hard, hard enough to bruise his knuckles but he doesn’t fucking care.

Doesn’t care about anything but reaching out and twisting the other center’s jersey with one hand to yank him closer and slamming his fist into his nose, this time. The fight escalates, Rodier getting in a couple of jabs to Shane’s side and cheekbone. But Shane is stronger, and his vision is tinted red, and he hears Rodier’s words over and over in his mind.

He doesn’t feel the ache in his hands or the pain in his ribs or anything but the Voyageur’s face under his punches. It’s immensely gratifying.

“You say another word,” Shane spits out as he slams Rodier against the ice with his grip on his jersey, “One more word about either of them and I swear to fucking god, I’ll fucking ruin your life.”

Shane lifts him up by his jersey a few inches before pushing him back down. He jostles the other man a little, his voice laced with months, years of pent-up wrath. “You fucking hear me?” he nearly yells down at the Voyageur.

But Rodier is barely fighting back now, let alone saying anything back, and Shane feels arms weave around him, pulling him back. It takes a second for the voices around him to actually process in his brain.

“Holzy, fuck, c’mon,” Dykstra is almost shouting in his ear, tightening his grip to drag Shane away. Young and Haas each grab one of his arms, seemingly in precaution to make sure Shane doesn’t try going after Rodier again.

Shane’s breaths come out ragged, adrenaline thrumming under his skin. It takes another few, long moments for his senses to fully come back online. To feel the way he’s being held by three of his teammates, to see the refs and the other Voyageurs and a medic next to Rodier. To taste the blood against his tongue from the few hits Rodier got in. To hear the hush of the arena, Montreal and Ottawa fans alike, utterly stunned.

“Fuck,” Shane finally mumbles, and he hears a quiet snort from behind him. He doesn’t need to turn to know it came from Hayden.

“For what it’s worth,” Hayden whispers low enough to only be audible by him and the three Centaurs around him, “he fucking deserved it.”

Which Shane agrees with, wholeheartedly. It, however, doesn’t change the fact that Shane’s the one that started the fight. And that Rodier is barely able to stand up on his own. Doesn’t stop him from getting a game misconduct and being sent off the ice and to the locker room.

As he skates over to the bench, he finally sees Ilya.

His husband’s eyes are dark, pupils slightly blown out. There’s an expression on his face that Shane knows so intimately, one that does not belong there during a hockey game. And so, he needs to leave before he gets hard.

“Shane—”

“Get a hat trick for me, yeah?” Shane interrupts, reaching forward to graze his knuckles across Ilya’s cheekbone gently. It leaves behind a light trail of red on his skin, and by the small hitch in Ilya’s breath, he knows.

He lets his thumb linger on Ilya’s face for just another moment, before pulling away and heading to the locker room to watch the rest of this game.

Ilya scores two more goals before the period ends.

shane hollander’s bodyguard @hollanguard
WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

The Hockey News ☑️ @TheHockeyNews
BREAKING: Shane Hollander gets into vicious fight with Montreal’s Thomas Rodier in third period, ejected for game misconduct.

raya 💋 @hollanderstwin
SHANE HOLLANDER??? EJECTED FOR GAME MISCONDUCT??? AM I READING THIS RIGHT WHAT 😭

bree k. @itskentbaby
should’ve gotten a suspension tbh, hollander’s violence needs to be punished

inez swift 𓏲ּ𝄢 @bettydeservesbetter
@itskentbaby now i know a dallas kent stan isn’t coming in here and talking about punishment 🫩

Jim Smith @jsmith_123
If Hollander isn’t given a more severe punishment for what he did to Rodier, the MLH will have a lot of people to answer to

₊°｡❆ noelle @closethebookbabe
oh? aww jim what happened to taking hits like real men?? 

hollanov’s third 🧚 @hollanovoodoo
noo i’m not watching p*rn i swear….googles “shane hollander rodier fight” for the 100th time

stuck in a hazy 🧱 @brickwallhayes
i need more commotion for the fact that hayes got a shutout today WE LOVE YOU KING YOU DROPPED THIS 👑

kajal ☾𖤓 @rozanovian
shane fighting rodier…getting bloody knuckles from it…leaving a trail of blood on ilya’s cheek like it’s war paint…ilya getting visibly turned on…him getting a hat trick after shane told him to…

kajal ☾𖤓 @rozanovian
this might take me a good three business days to recover from

shane’s lawyer 🥊 @hollandefender
ilya rozanov getting horny watching shane hollander absolutely demolish a voyageur during a fight is the realest thing he’s ever done actually

vivian’s girlfriend @stylesforlove
the shock radiating from the voyageurs’ bench and the stands…..shane fucking hollander you will always be famous baby!!!! 🤭

ESPN ☑️ @espn
MTL v. OTT UPDATE: Final score 6-0, with 2 more goals from Rozanov (Bood & Chouinard, A)! Hollander ejected for game misconduct in third period.

HockeyNewsCentral ☑️ @HockeyNewsCentral
A brilliant shutout, an unexpected Hollander fight, and a Rozanov hat trick; watch all the highlights from tonight’s Montreal vs. Ottawa game now!

Shane gets about ten seconds to prepare himself before the locker room is overrun by the rest of the team, all of whom have their focus solely on one thing: him.

“Holzy, what the fuck,” Bood starts off, and Shane covers his face with his less-bruised hand. He doesn’t regret it, especially not after what Rodier had said, but he isn’t necessarily looking forward to the ribbing from his team and the spotlight from the media. “That was…”

“Sexy,” Ilya finishes, dropping down next to Shane on the bench. There’s still a little red on his face, and Shane’s cheeks flush when he remembers what he did before leaving the rink. What had he been thinking? He doesn’t get much time to spiral about it, though, because in the next second, Ilya’s capturing his lips with his own.

His brain’s a-mile-a-minute racing abruptly halts. Shane pushes into the kiss almost immediately, letting all his senses be overwhelmed by Ilya, Ilya, Ilya. The scent of him, the taste of him, the feeling of one of his hands gripping Shane’s jersey—

He only pulls away when he hears a throat clearing loudly, and he somehow blushes what he’s sure is an even deeper red than before when he comes back to himself and realizes their entire team is trying not to stare at them. Dykstra, evidently the one who made the sound, is wearing a teasing expression that does nothing to dispel his embarrassment.

“So you all angry and bloody is what gets Roz going, huh?” Dykstra asks innocently, and as the locker room fills with laughs and catcalls, Shane flips him off.

“Shane is sexy always,” Ilya chimes in, ignoring Shane’s smack to his bicep. “But was even more sexy because of fight. I am not wrong, no?”

The team pauses for a brief second, before there are slow nods and other various gestures of agreement.

“What?” Shane declares more than asks the room, eyes darting around from teammate to teammate. Hayes’s expression is tranquil, while the rookies’ faces burn a little red. Even Bood is nodding, and Shane is suddenly lost.

“Well,” Young begins, before cutting himself off and resolutely staring at his stall instead.

“It’s kind of a well-known fact that you’re hot, Holzy,” Chouinard picks up from where Young left off, and Shane feels his lips part in shock. The defender shrugs casually. “You fighting Rodier, I mean…”

“Very sexy,” Ilya concludes with a definitive nod. “My very sexy husband who is mine.”

It’s a statement and a warning—however unnecessary, because Ilya Rozanov is and will always be Shane’s person—in one, and the rest of the team breaks down into muffled snickers and snorts. Shane, however, is still a little stuck on the whole “the entire team thinks he’s hot” thing.

If he lets himself think a little deeper, he’s also a little stuck on the way the team hadn’t come in here with accusing looks and narrowed eyes. Or badly-disguised disgust for getting thrown out of the game. They’re teasing him, sure. But it’s lighthearted, in a way that Shane never had with the Voyageurs.

Not for the first time, the startling difference between his former and current teams is pushed to the forefront of his mind.

“Wait—”

“Hollander and Rozanov, they want you for press,” Wiebe peeks his head in and calls out before he can finish his question, and all of a sudden, Shane kind of wants to disappear and maybe just teleport home. He’d known it was coming, there had been absolutely no shot in hell the media wanted anyone but him tonight, but he’s still not all that ecstatic about it. He groans instead, since it’s all he really can do, unfortunately.

Ilya nudges him reassuringly as they make their way over to the press, each step sounding like a death rattle in Shane’s head.

“Will be okay,” his husband says, squeezing his hand three times before letting go. “You owe them nothing, yes?”

Shane nods once, taking a deep inhale before wiping all his emotions from his face.

Time to face the fucking circus.

ESPN ☑️ @espn
Hollander on fight with Rodier during tonight’s game: “He crossed a line I couldn’t ignore.”

zucker for you @comethrubaby
with the way rodier chirped scott last game and how he was very particularly going after ilya, troy, and shane tonight, there is no doubt in my mind that he absolutely deserved everything he got 🤷‍♀️

malia ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚ @oursecretmoments
ilya saying “my husband” every time he was asked something ILYA DOWN COSMICALLY LOVERBOY ROZANOV OH HOW I ADORE YOU

Joe P @joe_p83
Hollander’s blatant refusal to discuss the reasons for the fight and Rozanov’s truthfully disgusting behavior in the post-game interviews tonight should be grounds for suspension for both of them honestly

pretty isn’t pretty @itsbrutalouthere
“disgusting behavior” and it’s just a man loving his husband go fuck yourself joe

just another montreal girl @voyageursgirl
im a montreal fan (might be changing that after the clusterfuck of tn ngl) but it was obvious that rodier was saying some pretty despicable things on the ice today, don’t think hollander (and rozanov) did anything wrong for finally retaliating

harris and troy’s love child @censadoptmepls
“well i think the score speaks for itself” shane hollander! SHANE! HOLLANDER!! i love this journey for you sir

bbq sauce on my 🫢 @boodoutbaby
shane basically saying “montreal is a shitty team without me and fuck them with a sledgehammer” in less words 🙂‍↕️

MLH News ☑️ @PuckReportMLH
Rozanov ends post-game press with a bang, declaring “My husband, Shane Hollander, defended me in game. If you have problem with that, think about why you are miserable person, maybe.”

junebug ᢉ𐭩 @seasonofthestyx
PLSDFSD shane’s immediate “that’ll be all” into the mic and then dragging ilya away i just know he walks rozy like a dog

HockeyNewsCentral: Ottawa’s Merciless Victory Over Montreal and How Shane Hollander Was the Expected (and Unexpected) MVP

MontrealGazette: Negative Rumors About Voyageurs’ Locker Room and Team Dynamic Resurface After Crushing Defeat Against Centaurs

OttawaSun: Hometown Hero, Shane Hollander, and Centaurs Win Against Montreal in Devastating Shutout

PucksForGossip: Centaurs fans have unanimously given Captain Ilya Rozanov a new surprising nickname online: Loverboy!

“We will talk about it now?”

Ilya’s question is just above a whisper in their hotel room, but it almost feels like a siren to Shane, who had known Ilya would unfortunately bring this up at some point.

“About what?”

Shane is a terrible liar—mostly when it comes to Ilya, because he did manage to hide a relationship for ten years—and he really should stop thinking that he’ll ever be able to fool Ilya by playing dumb. His husband tilts his head towards him from where he’s sitting on the bed next to him, their shoulders pressed together, with a quirked brow and sardonic expression.

“M’sure you heard most of it,” Shane mumbles, keeping his gaze locked on the book in his hands instead of meeting Ilya’s gaze. Not that he’s really processing any of it, not with the way Ilya’s hand is on his thigh, squeezing gently.

“Shane.”

He sighs, twisting to put his book on the nightstand and taking his glasses off. He doesn’t really want to tell Ilya exactly what Rodier said to him to make him drop his gloves, not sure Ilya needs to know the cruelty of the words.

“He was saying stuff about you,” he reluctantly admits, but Ilya’s brow lifts even higher, somehow.

“Was saying stuff about me whole game,” Ilya points out, annoyingly.

“About you and…” Shane ventures a careful look over to his husband, moving his hand to grasp Ilya’s on his thigh, interlacing their fingers together and squeezing thrice before continuing. This is going to hit Ilya hard, but he realizes that hiding it would be worse. “Your mom.”

Ilya stills. “Oh.”

His voice is low and gaunt, and it pangs in Shane’s chest.

“M’not gonna repeat it, so please don’t ask me to,” he eventually says, and Ilya shakes his head, lips pressing together. He’s not going to, Shane knows. Knows that this had crossed every line possible for chirping, and it enrages Shane, that anyone would use this against Ilya. That it will probably keep happening, at least with Montreal.

Shane vows to protect Ilya from all of it, for the rest of his life.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, and he uses his grip on Ilya’s hand to pull him closer. They both readjust, until Shane slides down a little and Ilya’s half on top of him, one of his legs thrown over Shane’s thigh. His head rests a little above his heart, and Shane lets one of his hands drift up and down Ilya’s spine while he runs the other one through his hair delicately. “Wanna talk about it?”

Ilya hums when Shane lightly drags his nails against his scalp. “Not today, I think.”

“Okay,” Shane accepts easily, knowing they’ll talk about it eventually. Whether that’s tomorrow or after they get back home, where Ilya feels safer. Where he lets himself be more vulnerable, with things like this.

The silence stretches for long minutes, but it’s comfortable. Shane can never pick a favorite thing about their relationship or Ilya, because he loves every single one, but this is one he basks in often. The serenity of simply laying with Ilya, not needing to talk or perform or think. Just letting the warmth of his husband linger and lull him into safety, into rest, into sleep. Just feeling the presence of his favorite person in the world.

“We have problem, Hollander,” his husband voices after some indeterminable amount of time, and he sounds better, less haunted than before. There’s even a note of glee underlying his words, and Shane can tell that Ilya’s compartmentalized away what they’d been talking about but he lets it go, for now. He keeps playing with his hair, anyway, fingers twisting through the soft strands.

“Hm, what’s the problem?”

Ilya lifts his head, props his chin against Shane’s chest to look up at him with a devilish glint in his eyes. “You are too sexy when fighting. Whole internet has fallen in love with you.” He pouts, and Shane’s lips twitch. “They are forgetting you have husband already.”

Shane laughs, leaning his head back against the headboard even as Ilya pulls his hand up to trace over the freckles on his shoulder. His pout goes nowhere, though.

“Is true,” Ilya gripes, stretching out the last word in an exaggerated whine. “I have to make sure internet knows, I think.”

And isn’t that a dangerous statement.

“What did you do?” Shane’s tone is apprehensive, because he knows Ilya. For better or worse. (Better, no matter what happens or what they have to go through or any of the hundreds of obstacles in their way. Always, always better).

“I did not do anything.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“Ah,” Ilya relents with a smile, the wide one that is so, so rare. It tugs at Shane’s heartstrings, melts deep into his chest, and he inherently already knows that he’s not going to stop whatever Ilya has planned. Because they had spent over a decade hiding this, and Shane doesn’t really want to anymore. Doesn’t care if his former teammates see it, or random strangers that don’t even know a single fucking thing about him. It’s already out there now, so if Ilya wants to show the world that he loves Shane and that Shane loves him just as fiercely, why would he stop him? “Just little reminder, maybe.”

Shane is sure that that’s a severe understatement.

He ends up being right, of course.

Ilya Rozanov ☑️ @ilyarozanov81
[image attached: A zoomed-in picture of Ilya lying on top of Shane, head in the crook of his shoulder, and his lips pressed against the skin of his neck. Only half of Ilya’s face and the bottom part of Shane’s can be seen in the photo. His hand rests on top of Shane’s shirt—a black Centaurs one—with Shane’s hand on top, fingers intertwined. Both their wedding bands are visible.]

мой любимый, навсегдаmy love, forever ❤️

Shane Hollander ☑️ @shanehollanderofficial
я тебя люблюi love you ❤️