Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

Gen, M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais & Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais/Original Male Character(s)

Characters:

Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Good Friend Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Bad Friend Hayden Pike, POV Outsider, POV Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, excessive use of the word "fuck", shameless abuse of italics, Relationship Reveal, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Racism, Angst with a Happy Ending, i personally think the angst is light but tagging just to be sure

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of The Queer Hockey Agenda

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-30 Completed: 2026-05-04 Words: 17,639 Chapters: 9/9

The Many Plans of J.J. Boiziau

Summary

“Okay, look. I promise I won’t interfere in any way, but he really wants to meet you. Come to the party, chat a bit, and maybe you’ll hit it off.” J.J. shrugged. “Why not?”

The sound of the glass slamming down on the nightstand startled J.J., but it didn’t even make Hayden twitch in his sleep. Neither did Shane’s next outburst.

“Maybe because I have a fucking boyfriend!”

J.J. just wanted the best for his Capitaine. He’d thought that meant helping him find a man to be in a happy and fulfilling relationship with. His plans, however, abruptly changed when he found out about Shane’s secret long-term boyfriend – and about who that boyfriend actually was.

Notes

This fic will likely contain a mix of show and book canons.

Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

J.J. watched the way his Capitaine interacted with Rozanov during their game against the Centaurs. His crush was visible from fucking space. Poor guy. J.J. was, possibly for the first time, grateful that most of their teammates had their heads too far up their own asses with their macho-ultra-heterosexual bullshit to know what to look for, even though they all knew their Capitaine was gay. They genuinely seemed blinder than the refs. J.J. was like 90% straight himself, but he was secure enough in his sexuality that it didn’t turn him into a complete fucking idiot.

He really wanted to help Shane get over it. He’d find him a nice man in Montréal. Someone athletic, but also kinda nerdy, would be perfect for him. It would be… true love at first sight, happily ever after, all that. And Shane could finally stop crushing on a straight guy. He’d just have to say yes to getting a few drinks, then J.J. would make sure that everything else fell into place. After all, the last time he’d said yes to J.J.’s plans, he’d ended up dating Rose Landry, which, yeah, fine, hadn’t worked out for now-obvious reasons, but they were still friends, so it had to count for something in his favour. He’d run his idea by Hayden first, to get a second opinion.

Okay, so that was a firm no on David-the-personal-trainer. To be fair, the thought of Shane’s dad hadn’t even crossed his mind. J.J. wouldn’t want to date a woman with the same name as his own mother either.

He really was going to back off and never try setting Shane up on a date again, but then December came, and with it, an invitation to Olivier’s New Year’s Eve party. Oli was one of the many acquaintances J.J. wasn’t completely sure how he’d met, and a really cool dude. He did all sorts of shit like rock climbing and skiing, and had a lot of opinions about smart-people movies. He’d also once confessed to having a huge celebrity crush on Shane. Perfect fucking match. Hayden thought so, too.

J.J. knew that Shane would be spending his Christmas break in Ottawa with his parents, like usual, and that he probably didn’t have any plans for New Year’s. He’d plant the seed early, make it seem like more of a chill get-together than matchmaking, then remind him of the party again when they were back for their last games of December. Perfect fucking plan. Too bad that Shane saw right through it as soon as he opened the invitation to him.

It was their last game before Christmas, they were all the way in Columbus, and Hayden had managed to convince their Capitaine to come out with the team for a drink or two. Or, well, more precisely, to vaguely socialize with the increasingly drunker men while he only drank water, because Shane’s diet had somehow gotten even more insane since the start of the season.

J.J. had waited until they put a stumbling Hayden to bed before he brought up the party. He should’ve really paid more attention to how on edge Shane already looked from the club, but in his defence, he was also quite tipsy. He lounged on the free bed, careful to keep his shoes off it. The room was dim, lit up only by the light streaming in through the open bathroom door. He hoped he wouldn’t accidentally fall asleep on Shane’s bed.

“Sooo, Capitaine. What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?”

“Why?” Shane called out from the bathroom. J.J. couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine, clear as day, the suspicious narrowing of his eyes, just by the tone of his voice.

J.J. forged ahead in rapid French. “A buddy of mine, Olivier, invited me to his get-together. Chill vibes, good music, good food – he’s into the same healthy stuff that you eat, but his actually tastes great. And he told me to bring anyone else I want.”

“And does your buddy just happen to be gay and single?” he asked, sounding even more suspicious. Borderline pissed-off, J.J. would have said if he had been paying more attention.

“Yes, exactly. He’s actually so cool, Capitaine. And he has the biggest crush on you.”

Shane came back into the room, a glass of water for their passed-out friend in hand. J.J. glanced at him, only to see that he was holding himself very, very tense.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop trying to set me up with random men?”

“Okay, look. I promise I won’t interfere in any way, but he really wants to meet you. Come to the party, chat a bit, and maybe you’ll hit it off.” J.J. shrugged. “Why not?”

The sound of the glass slamming down on the nightstand startled J.J., but it didn’t even make Hayden twitch in his sleep. Neither did Shane’s next outburst.

“Maybe because I have a fucking boyfriend!”

The only sound that could be heard after that was Hayden’s obnoxious snoring. Then a soft “fuck” from Shane, as he collapsed heavily on the edge of Hayden’s bed.

J.J. sat up to face him fully, suddenly way more alert. All traces of alcohol evaporated from his bloodstream in an instant.

Shane let out a louder, more frustrated “Fuck!” muffled slightly by his hands. He was shaking.

“Hey. Capitaine. Shane. It’s okay.” J.J. switched back to English.

He looked like he was having a panic attack, and J.J. had no idea what to do. He didn’t want to touch him, in case that made it worse. Cold water was supposed to help in these sorts of situations, right? He eyed the glass Shane had slammed down. A bit had sloshed out, pooling on the dark wood, but it was still mostly full. He thrust it in front of Shane.

“Here, drink this. You’re gonna feel better. I promise, everything is okay.”

J.J. waited patiently as Shane drank it all in a few gulps, set it down – more gently this time – and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. When he opened them, they were shiny and red-rimmed, but no tears were falling, and Shane had stopped shaking.

He didn’t meet J.J.’s searching gaze, instead mumbling down towards his wringing hands.

“It’s supposed to be a secret.”

Making Shane possibly panic again was the last thing he wanted, but J.J. was curious. Sue him.

“How many people know?”

Shane glanced up briefly, like some skittish animal ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

“Excluding me and him, and now with you, nine. Thirteen, if you count Hayden’s kids.”

J.J. was, admittedly, hurt that Shane hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about his man. They were supposed to be friends – best friends, even, for fuck’s sake. But his mind snagged on a detail before the hurt could take too-deep roots.

“Wait a sec. Hayden knows?”

Shane scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah, I mean… We haven’t actually planned to tell anyone. He’s from a country where it would be dangerous for him to be out, and he’s in Canada on a work visa. Everyone who knows about us just sort of figured it out themselves.” Shane paused and let out a half-amused snort. “Or walked in on us making out. Sorry, J.J., I promise it wasn’t about you.”

Shit. When he put it like that, it sounded sad as fuck that his friend couldn’t show off his relationship like any straight guy could.

“Merde, Capitaine, non. Hayden knows. Hayden.”

“Yes…?” Bless him, he sounded so confused by J.J.’s mounting anger.

“Hayden Pike, who was actively helping me find men for you so you’d get over your crush on Rozanov, knows that you have a boyfriend.”

“Wha– who– how–” Shane spluttered. “I don’t have a crush on Rozanov,” he insisted. His cheeks were visibly red, even in the dim light of the room. 

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t realized that. Whoops. Or maybe the boyfriend also knew and was fine with it. Were role-playing sex games something that gay guys also did? Nope, nevermind, not going there. He decided then and there to never bring it up again.

“Why the fuck would he do that?” he sounded somewhere between wounded and furious, even to his own ears.

The man in question was still snoring, blissfully oblivious to the conversation happening right next to him. J.J. wanted nothing more than to shake him awake and shout at him.

“Hayden… doesn’t really like him. He thinks that I could do better.”

J.J. scoffed. “Still a shitty thing to do. To both of us.”

Shane didn’t say anything in reply, just looked down at his fingers, which were busy ripping up his cuticles. He seemed really fucking sad. And lonely. J.J. wanted to cheer him up. He reached over to squeeze his shoulder and stood up.

“Come on. Frappé went off with a girl and won’t be back tonight. I want to order room service and hear more about your man.” If there was one sure thing about Antoine Frappier, J.J.’s defenceman linemate, and also his roommate on most roadies, it was that he didn’t give a shit about curfew.

His weak protests about the late hour thankfully didn’t stop Shane from following J.J. to his room and telling him, in a mix of English and French, about the guy who was, apparently, the love of his life. He never said his name, but he was practically glowing while talking about him. J.J. couldn’t for the life of him figure out how Hayden didn’t like his boyfriend when he made Shane this visibly happy. It was as if all the stress he was carrying around all the time fell away. He sat relaxed, his smile was big and real, he fucking… looked like a normal 29-year-old who was in love, instead of his usual hockey-robot self. And his boyfriend wasn’t even there. J.J. hoped that he’d get the chance to see them together one day.

He let Shane go back to his room when they both started yawning up a storm, and resolved to figure out what Hayden fucking Pike’s fucking deal was.

The next day on the plane back to Montréal, J.J. idly made a mental list of all the things he’d learned about his Capitaine’s secret boyfriend. It was, in all honesty, a jumbled mess that looked something like this:

• his home country has some pretty shitty anti-gay laws, so it could be really bad for his visa if he gets outed, but he wants to get Canadian citizenship (are they getting married??);
• he loves dogs, flashy cars, and McDonald’s;
• he travels a lot for work, but lives in Ottawa (close, but still long-distance. maybe he’ll move to Montréal in the future? or maybe Shane will move back home to Ottawa after he retires (there’s no way Shane will move to the Centaurs, even though he and Rozanov did play really well together at that All-Stars Game in 2017));
• they’re stupidly competitive at any game against each other, which got UNO banned in the Hollander household (how???);
• he’s very good with kids (Shane is also very good with the Pike kids. are they going to adopt?);
• Shane’s parents love him and consider him a second son (aww);
• he pretends to be jealous of Rose Landry, but they’re actually friends (wow, imagine being casually friends with your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend, who also happens to be a movie star);
• they spend their summers together at Shane’s cottage;
• the first time they went there, he got scared of the loons (lol);
• the Pike kids officiated a wedding for them in their living room (awww, so they are probably getting married for-real in the future. maybe J.J. will be the best man. wait, do gay weddings have best men?);
• he does puzzles with Shane’s dad;
• they’ve known each other since before Shane was in the NHL, but only got together officially after Scott Hunter came out and gave them hope ( :((( );
• they went on a double date with Ryan Price and his musician boyfriend after Price saw them making out during camp (what music does he listen to? Shane doesn’t know, because he barely knows the difference between genres);
• he’s trying to quit smoking for Shane (good);
• Hayden doesn’t like him, but Jackie and the kids adore him (???????????).

The last point still confused J.J.. The guy sounded great, from everything Shane had said. And even if he’d thought that his friend would ever stay in a years-long secret relationship that was bad for him, he trusted the judgement of Jackie Pike and Yuna Hollander. Well, Jackie’s maybe a little bit less now, considering that her husband was apparently an asshole about his best friend’s relationship, but still.

He thought about writing this all down on paper when he got home, but changed his mind pretty quickly. He didn’t want to act like a conspiracy nut about it.

Frappé’s bewildered scoff from the seat next to him woke him up from his light doze. J.J. shot him a questioning look, and got a phone screen shoved in his face as an answer. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, and when they did, he saw the Centaurs’ “Happy Holidays” post, Rozanov front and centre, grinning wide in a Santa hat and a snowman sweater, holding an adorable puppy with a festive bandana around its neck. It was definitely cuter than whatever the Voyageurs were going to put out.

“The charity with Hollander, the children’s hospital visits, and now this? I get that Rozanov’s trying to wash his image for whatever fucking reason, but who the fuck is he kidding?”

It was the weirdest lightbulb moment in J.J.’s entire life. He made some vague noises in Frappé’s direction and moved as if to go back to his nap, but inside he was reeling.

He’d seen the videos of Rozanov at the children’s hospital, and he remembered him at camp. He was very good with kids. From the photo, it seemed like he loved dogs. He used to be famous for his collection of flashy sports cars, but he’d sold most of them when he’d moved to Ottawa, and put the money into the Irina Foundation. He was from Russia, and while J.J. wasn’t an expert on foreign politics, even he remembered all the press about the safety of queer athletes before the Sochi Olympics. He’d first played against Shane in 2008, well before the beginning of their NHL careers. Hayden didn’t like him.

There was no way that he was actually… But it was the only conclusion that made sense, wasn’t it?

More and more puzzle pieces started slotting into place. Rozanov’s loon tattoo, which he’d gotten the summer he signed with the Centaurs – he’d said that it was for Canada, but Shane’s boyfriend had been scared of the loon calls the first night they’d spent at his cottage together. Was that tattoo secretly for Shane?

Fuck, of course Shane had said that he didn’t have a crush on Rozanov. He was in love with him. They were in a relationship. Had been for several years.

What the actual fuck?

J.J. abruptly remembered “Boston Lily”, the girl Hayden had told him about, whom Shane had been texting and going out to see whenever they’d played in Boston for years, until one season he just stopped. Lily. Ilya. If they’d been together officially since a little after Hunter had kissed his boyfriend on the ice, how long had they been together unofficially?

Had Shane left Rozanov for Rose Landry?

Was Rozanov gay? What about all those women, then? Sure, Shane had dated a few before he’d accepted his sexuality, but nobody could fake it that much.

Wait. Bisexual. J.J. had quite a few gay friends who were more in touch with the community than Shane, and he’d heard that word before. Rozanov was probably bisexual. He felt like an idiot, a little bit. He could’ve sworn that he was just European.

He wanted to have a very loud and public freak-out about this huge fucking thing he’d just figured out, but he had enough brains to keep it in. He was on a plane, surrounded by teammates, some of them already not that cool with their Capitaine being gay. He didn’t want to make it even worse. Tabarnak, no wonder they kept it a secret.

Was the rivalry even real? Did one ever let the other win?

Shane and his boyfriend – who was Ilya fucking Rozanov – had somehow gotten fucking UNO banned from the Hollander household by being too competitive about it. Okay, so the competitiveness was most likely very real on the ice as well.

Had Rozanov moved to Ottawa of all places, to the worst team in the League, to be closer to Shane?

If either of them had been a woman, this all would’ve sounded more like the plot of some star-crossed lovers’ tragic romance movie that Kelsey, one of J.J.’s ex-girlfriends, would’ve definitely made him watch.

J.J. needed to calm the fuck down before he blurted out something he’d regret. He knew how hot-headed he tended to be.

He’d wait until they were off the plane, get Shane alone, and then tell him what he knew – or at least what he thought he knew. He was very glad that he’d taken an Uber to the airport before their roadie, and that Shane always came with his own car. That gave him the perfect opportunity to ask for a ride.

Plan formed, J.J. fell into a fitful sleep until touchdown.

Chapter End Notes

This is my only finished chapter in this AU so far, but I do have some vague plans regarding where I want to take it. Tags might be updated in the future when I come back to write more for this fic, but the Good Friend J.J. and Bad Friend Hayden will stay in place. It is my firmly held belief that J.J. would've reacted way better if he'd known a few things about the Hollanov relationship before finding out about the Ilya Rozanov part, and also had some time to think about it. And that Hayden Pike is, canonically, a Bad Friend.

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

I got so many wonderful comments on the first chapter, that I started writing the second one as soon as I woke up. Love y'all and hope you enjoy!

Shane seemed anxious to get off the plane and to his car as fast as possible, but J.J.’s longer strides helped him catch up easily. He swung a companionable arm around his shoulders, acting cool as a cucumber.

“Capitaine, traffic is so shit right now, it will take ages until a car gets here. I will be an old, old man, and then I won’t be able to play hockey anymore. Could you give me a ride, please?”

This was, perhaps, the worst excuse J.J. had ever used in his life. There was a line of taxis just outside the airport, like always. Thankfully, Shane didn’t mention it, probably too preoccupied with whatever was on his mind. Like packing and heading straight to Ottawa. To his secret boyfriend, who was, more likely than not, Ilya fucking Rozanov. Fucking hell.

“Hayden lives closer to you, can’t you ask him?” Okay, rude, but fair.

“Nah, you know that his car is always filled with junk left behind by the kids. Or maybe it’s him, and he’s just using the mini-Pikes as an excuse.” J.J. had a plan, and he wouldn’t let anything get between him and its execution.

“Okay, fine,” Shane acquiesced and led the way to where he’d parked.

Once on the road, they began some mindless chatter about the upcoming holidays. Allegedly. It was clear that neither of them was paying any attention to it. The vibes were so fucking awkward that J.J. couldn’t take it anymore. He dropped the bomb while they were waiting at a red light.

“Is your secret boyfriend Ilya Rozanov?” There. Simple. A question with a yes or no answer.

It made Shane freeze in place for so long that the light turned green and the cars behind them started honking. At least that made him snap out of it, somewhat. He drove, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were turning white.

“Maybe we should go to yours. To talk. I can Uber home after,” J.J. suggested, making sure to keep his voice as calm and kind as possible.

Shane just nodded mutely and kept driving. The car was completely silent. J.J. contemplated turning the radio on, but thought better of it.

They reached Shane’s place in what felt like an eternity and mere seconds at the same time. The keys shook slightly in Shane’s hand as he unlocked the front door. He took off his shoes and hung up his jacket as if in a trance, and J.J. followed suit. Shane went over to the fridge, leaving J.J. in the entryway. Thanks to the open-plan layout, he could see that he stared into it for way too long before finally speaking.

“I have, uh, coke, water, and ginger ale. Which one do you want?”

“Coke’s fine, thanks.”

He made himself comfortable on the couch, not wanting to hover. Shane came over with two cans – coke for J.J., ginger ale for himself – and two coasters. He set everything down on the coffee table with jerky, mechanical movements. His face was ashen, and his eyes vacant. J.J. really wanted to reassure him that everything was fine.

He patted the couch next to himself. “Come on, sit.”

Shane sat down, but didn’t look at J.J. as he said a simple “Yes.” He cleared his throat and continued, still somewhat stilted. “Yes, Ilya Rozanov is my boyfriend.”

Fuck. He felt even crazier hearing it out loud than when he was churning out half-asleep theories in the privacy of his own mind. But it did make some sort of fucked-up sense. Shane Hollander lived and breathed hockey. Who else would be good enough for him to date, if not the other best player in the League?

“Okay.”

Those two syllables finally made his friend come fully back to himself and whip his head towards J.J..

“Okay? You’re not mad?”

“Mon ami… I am still processing, but…” he trailed off, taking a sip of his coke. He switched to French. “A lot of things suddenly make a lot more sense. And I’ve never met the version of Rozanov who is the boyfriend from last night’s stories, but if he really is like that with you, then no, I’m not mad. The only thing I wanted with all those men I tried to set you up with was for you to be happy. And I saw yesterday that Roz makes you very happy.”

Shane blinked at him. “Thank you. I, uh, wasn’t expecting that.”

“So I guess Hayden wasn’t thrilled for you?” he asked as Shane took a drink from his own can. It made him cough.

“Ah, no. You could say that he wasn’t.”

Well, too bad for him. J.J. wanted to hear everything about how these two had managed to get past their rivalry and fall in love. He’d heard a part of it the night before, but now he had more context.

“Start from the beginning. It was 2008, and Canada was playing against Russia in the WJC finals. Hollander vs. Rozanov. What happened next?”

That got an amused snort and a head shake out of his friend. “I’d like to talk to Ilya before I tell you more, if that’s okay. As I said, it’s kinda supposed to be a secret.”

“That must be tough for him.”

“I mean, yeah. It’s pretty tough for both of us.”

“Yeah, but like, for him a little bit more, y’know?”

“Huh?”

“Well, he can’t talk about his relationship with the people he spends most of his time with. Okay, your parents also live in Ottawa, but they’re your parents. You said last night that his childhood best friend knows, but she lives in a different country. You had Hayden, even though he sucks. And now you have me. I’m sure Roz would like the same.”

Shane suddenly sat up straight, as if an electric current had just shot through him. He stared ahead with wide eyes.

“Capitaine…?” J.J. didn’t understand his reaction. This surely wasn’t news to him. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m a bad boyfriend,” he said in a rush.

“What? Capitaine, non. Why would you say that?”

“It’s a long story, but, uh, Ilya did come out to one of his teammates as bisexual. And I think I reacted badly. He said something about only me being allowed to tell my friends about us, and I didn’t get it at the time. I mean, Svetlana knows, and Ilya isn’t, like, best friends with any of the guys on his team.” He was getting more agitated with every word coming out of his mouth. “And now you also know.” He waved a hand in J.J.’s direction and slumped back into the couch.

“Do you think that maybe he’s not that close to the Cens because he’s hiding this huge secret? Wyatt told me at camp that he also missed most of the teambonding stuff.”

“Fuuuck.” Shane scrubbed his hands down his face. “Of course he misses most of it. He comes to see me whenever I’m in Montréal and he doesn’t have a game or practice. I’ve been holding him back from making friends.”

Yeah, that sounded like a shitty situation, but he was sure that it didn’t make Shane an actually bad boyfriend. It was obvious to anyone with eyes to see that he cared a lot about Roz.

“What would happen if he came out to more people? You told me about his visa, but those guys aren’t the type to gossip about personal shit like this.” Unlike some other teams, J.J. didn’t add. Shane had told the Voyageurs that he was gay in the confidentiality of the locker room. It hadn’t taken long for rumours to reach everyone in the League.

J.J. wished that his friend could snap at all the pieces of shit on their team, at least once. Shane sometimes got a look in his eyes that told him he probably felt the same way, too. But he was forced to be the Asian-Canadian Golden Boy of hockey. And since coming out to them as gay, he’d also had to just grin and bear it if he didn’t want to risk getting called a cocksucker to his face. There was enough of that going on behind his back. At least J.J.’s own position as a tall, Black defenceman meant that he could show his anger. Sometimes. Only if he could laugh it off afterwards. Being a minority in a sport this white fucking sucked.

“I don’t know… They could put two and two together and find out about us. You worked it out with only like half the information.”

“Would that be so bad?”

That seemed to stun Shane.

“What? Of course it’d be bad. The rivalry…”

“Pah!” J.J. waved him off. “Just tell them about all the board games your parents banned. I’m sure UNO isn’t the only one, with the way you two are.”

The comment brought a tentative smile to Shane’s lips. “Yeah, my mom has a whole list. But she is just as bad.”

“So…”

“So?”

“The Cens are great guys, and Roz is scarily good at reading people. I know that’s why all of his chirps land just the way he wants them. If he trusts someone with his secret, I think you can also trust them.”

Shane mulled it over, with the same expression he had on when analyzing game tape. He nodded to himself, apparently having reached a conclusion.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

J.J. slapped his thigh. “Of course I am!”

He went to take another sip of his drink, but noticed that the can was empty. Shane wordlessly got up and brought him a new one. It probably meant that he still wanted him around after their conversation, instead of wishing he’d fuck off – J.J. was glad. As he wiped off the condensation with his thumb, another thought crossed his mind.

“I’ve never seen you drink coke. Are these for Roz?” He remembered that one All-Stars when he drank it like water.

“Um, yeah.”

“Cute.” He gestured with his still-unopened can. “See? You can’t be a bad boyfriend if you stock up on things you don’t even drink, just for him.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, but sure, thanks.”

J.J. hummed and finally cracked the can open to take a long swig. He didn’t know how to tactfully word the next thing he wanted to say, so he just went ahead and said it.

“Now, what are we gonna do about the Hayden situation?”

Shane let out a long sigh. “There’s nothing to do. He just wants to be a good friend.”

“Non, Capitaine. I want to be a good friend. You and Roz had your wedding in his living room, and he still acts like that? He isn’t even trying to be a good friend to you.”

“It’s not that serious. Him and Ilya just like to antagonize each other,” he protested.

“It is that serious. Chirping is one thing, but this? He’s known for years how in love you are with Roz. Don’t tell me that he isn’t at least part of the reason why you were so afraid of me knowing.”

Shane didn’t reply, but J.J. saw him blink tears back rapidly. Once again, he seemed very sad and lonely. He could do nothing but bring him in for a tight hug.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do about it, then?” Shane asked once they broke apart.

“I could talk to him,” he suggested.

“Fuck, no.” He paused for a second. “Yes. I don’t know.” He let out a puff of air. “After the holidays, maybe.”

“Okay, Capitaine. After the holidays,” he agreed. “By the way, when are you leaving for Ottawa?”

Shane looked down at his watch. “Oh, shit. In like half an hour.”

J.J. drained the rest of his coke. “Then I’ll get out of your hair and let you pack. Merry Christmas, and enjoy your time with your man!”

He laughed – short, but bright and real. “Thanks, J.J.. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

In his Uber back home, J.J. made a new plan: get Hayden Pike’s head out of his own ass. And if that didn’t work? Friendship breakup it was.

Chapter End Notes

Chapter 3 will also be posted later today, but Chapter 4 might take a little bit longer. I'm planning to make it a very canon-divergent rewrite of the Plane Incident(TM), but since it's from J.J.'s POV, a lot of the Hollanov stuff will be happening off-screen. I'm toying with the idea of a companion piece from Shane's and/or Ilya's POV, but my writing process is purely vibes-based, so idk if/when that will happen. I'm leaving the door open to any other fic writers who might feel inspired.

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

On their first day back after the short Christmas break, J.J. and Shane’s cars pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the Voyageur’s practice rink at the exact same time. It was completely deserted, except for the two of them. J.J.’s breath fogged the air in front of him as he jumped out and waved excitedly at Shane. He was practically vibrating out of his skin, eager to hear everything about his holiday. Okay, maybe not everything. Mostly just the boyfriend-Ilya-Rozanov parts of it.

Shane stepped out at a more leisurely pace. J.J. instantly spotted that there was something different about him. He seemed less tightly-wound than he’d been all season. Happier. Lighter, somehow.

J.J. started a barrage of questions in French as soon as they were close enough not to have to shout.

Shane raised his hands. “Whoa, slow down.”

“Come on, Capitaine. I’m dying here,” J.J. whined. “You have to tell me everything about your Christmas with your boyfriend.” He said the last word in a sing-song voice.

Shane giggled. Honest-to-God, hand-on-his-heart, the noise J.J. heard coming from Shane fucking Hollander was a giggle.

“There’s not much to tell. We went to my parents’, exchanged our own presents at home, had a serious conversation, then went to Bood’s Boxing Day party.” His tone was casual, but he couldn’t fool J.J..

“Not much, he says. Since when is going to a party with your hockey-rival’s-slash-boyfriend’s team not much? I need more details. Is Bood’s BBQ as good as Wyatt says it is? Do they know about you two?”

There was an amused twinkle in Shane’s eyes.

“We went there just as friends, y’know? But the guys were honestly great, and Ilya trusts them, so yeah, we told some of them. About us, I mean.”

J.J. was genuinely speechless for a moment. Going from that panic attack just a few days before to willingly and openly talking about his relationship was a big step for Shane. Fuck that – it was an enormous fucking leap.

“Wow, that’s awesome. I’m really happy for you.” J.J. gripped his shoulders and shook him lightly.

Shane looked to the ground, blushing, probably not just from the cold. “I wanted to thank you, actually. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it without your help. That talk really meant a lot to me.”

J.J. felt himself get choked up. “Merde, it’s too early in the morning to be this emotional, Capitaine.” He cleared his throat. “Does Wyatt know?”

“Umm, yeah. Why?”

J.J. grinned. He loved that guy. “I want to gossip about your love life with someone who won’t be an ass about it, obviously.”

“Fuck off,” Shane said, giving him a shove, but J.J. could see that he was smiling. He still made himself stumble sideways dramatically. He also complained about his Capitaine trying to kill him all the way to the locker room, just for the extra effect.

Hayden was the last one to arrive, saying hurried “Hi”s to everyone as J.J. was already lacing up his skates. He was glad that this left them no time to just sit around and chat. He wasn’t sure he could quite look him in the eyes without visibly fighting off the urge to give him a piece of his mind, and he didn’t want to do that with the entire team around.

Practice was good, but J.J.’s luck for the day ran out right as they were done showering. Hayden signalled him to stay behind for a bit. Great. He waved to their already-departing teammates with forced cheerfulness and sat down to change at a snail’s pace while they waited for everyone else to leave.

“Sorry we didn’t have the chance to catch up after the club. What a wild night, huh?” Hayden began, seemingly unaware of J.J.’s mood. “How was Christmas?”

“Good. The usual. Yours?” Wow, way to be eloquent and friendly, J.J.. At least Hayden never had any trouble running his mouth to fill the silence.

“Oh, the kids were terrors. Jade got a drum kit from Ro– uh, a relative, and she’s been holding ‘concerts’ twice a day since,” he said with air-quotes. What the hell was that? Had he just almost said Rozanov? How careless could a man be? “Ruby does the karaoke parts, but she can’t sing to save her life. And Amber just left her new toys everywhere, man. At least Arthur is a quiet kid, even though he still cries a lot.”

“Mhm, sounds like you and Jackie had your hands full.” Mostly Jackie, probably.

“Yeah. I love my family, but I can’t lie, I’m glad to be back on the ice.” His gaze turned wistful for a moment, then pinned J.J. with a hard look. “You remembered to invite Shane to that guy’s party, right?”

J.J. felt his brain stutter, because, like, what the fuck? Firstly, “that guy”. Did he even remember anything about Oli, or did he just want Shane and Roz to break up? Secondly, even if he didn’t know that J.J. knew, Hayden Pike still knew that Shane was in a serious relationship.

And, well, J.J. really couldn’t help himself once his brain came back online. He exploded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Pike?”

At his confused expression, J.J. let out a string of French curse words, too fast for Pike to understand.

“No, seriously. What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you, J.J.? What brought this on?”

“Maybe the fact that we both know that Shane’s in a relationship and you’re still trying to set him up with someone else?” If he’d been a cartoon character, J.J. was sure that there’d be smoke coming out of his ears already.

“He told you? When?” Pike somehow had the guts to sound more surprised than guilty.

J.J. waved him off. “You wouldn’t remember. You were too busy being passed out drunk and snoring.”

“And you’re okay with it?” he asked, incredulous.

It took a bit of effort to lower his voice, but J.J. couldn’t be sure that there wasn’t anyone out in the hallways who could overhear them. “Why wouldn’t I be? Shane is an adult. He can date Roz if he wants to.”

“Roz? Since when do you call him Roz? We both know what he’s like.” Pike’s voice was still too loud for comfort.

“Since I found out that he’s in a relationship with our best friend!” J.J. whisper-shouted. “Tabarnak, yes, he’s an asshole on the ice. Almost everyone is an asshole on the ice. I have no idea what he’s like at home, except for what Shane told me.” He pointed an accusatory finger at Pike. “But you’ve seen them being all couple-y. You know that he makes Shane happy.”

“Yeah, he’s been to my house, and he still chirps me all the time. He’s a huge asshole, even off the ice, and Shane can do much better than that.”

“Mon Dieu, tu parles comme un enfant,” J.J. muttered to himself. Pike did sound more like a petulant child in that moment, and less like the fully-grown man with four kids of his own that he allegedly was. “Don’t tell me that you, a hockey player, can’t take some fucking chirping. For fuck’s sake, Pike, you just basically told me that he bought Christmas presents for your kids. Would an actual asshole do that?”

He didn’t have an answer to that. J.J. left him alone in the locker room with his mouth opening and closing like that of a particularly stupid fish. He made sure to slam the door on the way out.

Back in his car, with music blaring as loud as his speakers could take it, J.J. decided that from then on, he was going to sit next to Shane on all the team buses and planes. Pike was a shit friend and didn’t deserve that place. Shane also didn’t deserve to be subjected to his evidently low opinions of his boyfriend. And he wouldn’t let Pike try to bully his way into sharing a hotel room with Shane, either. The least he could do was let him have his own room, so he could call Roz at night, considering how much time they had to spend apart. He knew that Pike used to sometimes kick him out for an hour when he wanted to FaceTime Jackie, and he was pretty sure that he never thought to afford Shane the same courtesy.

Other than that, he was honestly looking forward to Oli’s New Year’s Eve party, even without Shane there. He really was a cool guy.

Chapter End Notes

This is for all my fellow "Pike is not only a bad friend, but also a bad husband and parent" truthers out there. Also, ngl, Olivier No-Last-Name was only supposed to exist for the purpose of J.J.'s last failed attempt to set Shane up with someone, but I'm kinda starting to ship him with J.J.. Might even bring him back later on.

Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

Did I say that Chapter 4 might take a little bit longer? Whoops, I lied. I love writing this fic, and the ideas are just flowing from my brain to the google docs.

J.J. hadn’t anticipated that sitting next to Shane on the bus would mean this – scrambling to hide his phone after shouting an involuntary “Merde!” at the unexpected headline. He’d thought that he could cheer himself up with some light scrolling after their loss against Washington. He’d been hoping for some cute animal videos. What he got instead was news that the Centaurs’ plane had to make an emergency landing.

The scrambling only resulted in him dropping his phone, face up, Twitter still open. He wasn’t fast enough to kick it under the seat before Shane reached to pick it up, and saw the moment the words on the screen registered in his friend’s mind. All colour drained from his face, his hand went lax, and the phone fell into J.J.’s lap.

Shane turned back to his own phone, and J.J. caught a glimpse of his Instagram DMs.

“Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it.”

Fuck. Were those Ilya Rozanov’s last words?

He opened the link to the news article. No injuries reported. Plane landed safely. Phew.

“What’s up?” Frappé asked from across the aisle.

He repeated what he’d just read, loud enough for everyone on the bus who didn’t have their headphones on to hear. He was looking at Shane out of the corner of his eye while he emphasized that everyone was fine. Shane didn’t relax even a fraction, and his thumbs were flying over his keyboard. J.J. could only imagine what dark thoughts of alternate outcomes were currently filling his head.

The conversation about the incident picked up and then died out quickly around them, everyone more preoccupied with their own shit. It wouldn’t have been the same if something worse had actually happened. J.J. didn’t think that there were strong enough forces in the Universe to hold Shane together if Roz had been injured or, God forbid, died. He watched him clutch his phone to his chest and turn his head to face the window. His lower lip was trembling in the faint reflection.

J.J. laid a hand on his knee in a futile attempt to comfort him. He was going to make sure that Shane got to his hotel room in one piece, so he could at least fall apart with Roz on the other end of a call.

After dropping Shane – and his own things – off, he set out to find something warm to bring his friend. It was too late for coffee, so tea would have to do. They did, technically, have electric kettles and complimentary teabags in all the rooms, but J.J. didn’t trust those. Starbucks had tea, right? His musings were interrupted by a vibration in his pocket.

It was Oli – chatting with him had become an increasingly frequent occurrence in the last week. He’d heard the news about the plane and wanted to know how J.J. was doing, considering he also flew so often, but didn’t want to bother him with a call in case he was with the team, even though he knew that J.J. preferred those. It was really thoughtful of him. J.J. found himself smiling as he typed out a reply.

Okay. Back to the mission.

Finally, with two steaming cups of some fancy concoction in hand, J.J. stopped for a breath in front of Shane’s door before knocking. He caught the tail end of his conversation, Roz obviously on speaker.

“Sorry. Good night, moy pomidor.”

“Tomato, right?”

“Yes.”

“Weird. I love you.”

“I love you. Send pictures.”

Did Roz call Shane Russian pet names? That was cute as fuck.

When the door opened, he could tell right away that Shane had been crying. Not just his sometimes-seen shiny eyes and tears that he refused to let fall – his face was red and blotchy, and he was sniffling. He rubbed at the drying tracks with one hand, the other opening the door wider to let J.J. in.

He set the cups down on the dresser and engulfed Shane in a hug, barely waiting for the door to fully close behind them. He had quite a few inches on Shane, which meant that his shirt was probably going to end up all wet and snotty, but J.J. couldn’t care less. His friend needed all the comfort he could get. He only stepped back once Shane started squirming to be released.

“That for me?” he asked, gesturing towards the cups.

“Yeah, here.” J.J. handed Shane one of them. “No idea what’s in it, but the blue-haired girl at the counter said it’s good, and they usually know their shit.”

Shane took a sip and hummed. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s good.”

He toed his shoes off and scooted up on the bed until his back was against the headboard, indicating that Shane should join him. After a moment of hesitation, he did so.

“How are you, mon ami?”

Shane let out a long, frustrated sigh.

“It’s fucking stupid, but I keep thinking about ‘what if’s, and it’s making me so fucking angry. One of the guys who knows about us would’ve probably called me if something had happened to Ilya, but then what? I’m not his next of kin, we don’t have any papers tying us together legally, less than two dozen people even know that we’re together. Would I have even been allowed to visit him in hospital?”

“Fuck, that’s a lot to carry.”

“Yeah…” Shane deflated.

“When are you seeing him next?”

“On Sunday, probably. The Centaurs are supposed to land in Ottawa around the same time we get back to Montréal. And that’s if they’re ever getting on a plane again.”

The expression Shane wore told J.J. that even those couple of days until then were too much, after a scare like that.

“Any big romantic plans?” he asked, trying to lighten the sour mood.

“I’m going to propose.”

J.J. did a double-take. Shane really wasn’t joking. The last time he’d looked this determined had been just before the Voyageurs had won their third Cup with him as Capitaine. His stunned silence urged Shane to continue.

“We had this whole fucking plan to wait until we retire, but it all just seems so fucking pointless now. I can’t do ten more years of this. I’d drive down to Tampa right now and do it if I could.”

Now that was an idea. “How are you gonna propose?”

Shane shook his head with a chuckle. “I don’t have a ring yet, but Ilya once joked that he’ll ask me to marry him by covering the dock at the cottage in candles. It’s too cold to go out there now, so, like, electric candles in the living room, maybe.”

“Holy shit. Who would’ve thought that the two of you were such romantics?”

“Fuck off,” Shane retorted weakly.

“No, really. I can already imagine it. You–” J.J. was cut off by the ringing of Shane’s phone. The screen lit up with just a simple ‘Mom’, no photo accompanying it.

“I’ll let you take that.” J.J. got off the bed, ruffling Shane’s hair in the process, and delighted in the indignant noise that followed. 

He slipped back into his shoes, took his untouched – and now only lukewarm – cup of something with him, and went to find an empty conference room. Some of the things Shane had said gave him a frankly brilliant idea, but he’d need some help to make it work.

The first thing he did was double-check the Centaurs’ schedule while he waited until he was pretty sure that her phone call with her son was over. Then he called Yuna Hollander. She picked up on the second ring, with a polite yet strained “Hello, J.J..”

“Hi, Mrs. Hollander. Sorry to bother you. Do you think it would be possible to get Shane to Tampa tomorrow morning?”

“Sorry, you want to do what?”

J.J. launched into an explanation of his plan. Shane was missing Roz like crazy and wanted to propose. The Cens were going to have a free day before their game in Tampa. The Voyageurs’ game in Detroit would be the first that Shane ever missed due to a family emergency, and players weren’t required to disclose the nature of those. J.J. would cover for him in front of Coach Theriault. It didn’t take any extra persuasion to convince her to help.

“I’ll book a private flight and email you the details. You still have the address that you used for the camps, right?”

He thanked her profusely, then hung up to let her do her magic. J.J. hoped that being on a plane wouldn’t be, like, traumatic for Shane. It was the fastest way to get him there.

The second person he called was Wyatt Hayes. He picked up fast, sounding cheerful and well on his way to being drunk. Understandable. J.J. hoped it wouldn’t make him forget the conversation they were about to have.

“Wyatt, my man, could you do me like three huge favours? I promise I’ll owe you.”

“Sure, hang on a sec.”

J.J. heard some shuffling, then the background noise was gone.

“What’s up?”

So J.J. explained his whole plan again, including what he needed from Wyatt. J.J. would be ordering every single type of electric candle he could find that had the batteries included and could be delivered to the Cens’ hotel by the next morning. Wyatt just had to make sure that they got to Shane when he arrived, sneak him into Roz’s room, then keep Roz away until Shane was done arranging them. Easy. If he could somehow get Roz’s ring size, that would be a great bonus, too.

Wyatt almost sounded more excited than J.J. felt as he agreed to his part in the plan.

Phone calls over, the rest could be done from the relative comfort of his hotel room bed. J.J. felt a flicker of guilt that he was going behind his friend’s back to make everything happen, but this time, it really was for the greater good. It was going to be a nice surprise for Shane. Could even be considered an early engagement gift.

His good mood was temporarily ruined by Hayden fucking Pike, of all people, entering the hotel just before curfew and catching the same elevator as J.J.. He pressed the button for the floor Shane was on, just one below J.J.’s own. Was he actually taking his chance to be the good friend he thought he was?

“Are you going to Shane’s?”

“Uh, no, dude, that’s my floor. I’m going straight to sleep. Why would I go to Shane’s? He’s rooming alone.”

Esti de câlice de tabarnak, there was being a petty idiot, and there was not even bothering to think about checking on how your supposed best friend was doing after he found out that the love of his life almost died.

J.J. just grunted and then stared straight ahead for the rest of the ride up.

J.J. would’ve called the hour he went to knock on Shane’s door obscenely early if he hadn’t known that Shane was usually already awake by that time. Just as he’d expected, he came out with a toothbrush in hand and a confused expression on his face.

He barged past him, quickly throwing the few things he’d unpacked back into his suitcase.

“What are you doing? Our plane doesn’t leave for a few hours.”

“Nope.” He swivelled around to look at Shane. “The Voyageurs’ plane leaves in a few hours. You, mon ami, have a private plane waiting for you to take you to Tampa.”

“What.” It sounded more like a statement than a question, his voice flat from the shock.

For the third – and hopefully last – time, J.J. detailed what he’d come up with. Shane looked conflicted.

“I’ve never missed a game, except when I was out on IR. There’ll be questions.”

“I’ll tell Coach that it’s a family emergency and you had to leave first thing in the morning. You will say the same if he calls, and so will your mom. He’s not allowed to ask more than that.”

“But…”

“Mon ami, listen. I promise I’ll drop it if you really don’t want to go, but tell me this. What is more important to you – one single game against Detroit, or seeing your man today?”

Shane didn’t even hesitate with his answer.

“Ilya. It’s Ilya.”

J.J. grinned. “Good. Then finish packing and get your ass to the airport. The Cens are staying in the same hotel as the 2017 All-Stars players did, so you should know your way around it.”

A furrow appeared between Shane’s brows. He thought hard for a second, and then asked, “Could you or Wyatt check if room 1217 is free?”

J.J. didn’t know why that room in particular was important, but sure, he could do that. He told Shane that they were going to book it for him in case it was available.

On his way to the door, Shane stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Wait! I don’t even have a ring.”

“Wyatt somehow managed to get Roz’s ring size last night. I know you can figure something out. I’ll email you everything. Now shoo, hurry! Go lock your man down.”

It was, surprisingly, Shane who initiated the hug this time.

“Merci beaucoup, J.J.,” he mumbled into his chest.

“Avec plaisir, Capitaine.”

He couldn’t wait for Wyatt to tell him how it went. Shane was definitely going to be too busy with his new fiancé to remember to call J.J..

Chapter End Notes

Loving the enthusiasm for Oli in the comments, but please keep in mind that his name is Olivier, not Oliver. He's a francophone! He and J.J. can gossip in French all day.

Also, hmmm, I'm contemplating turning evil for Chapter 5, hihi. We'll see.

Chapter 5

Chapter Notes

You might have noticed that this fic now has some added tags and a tentative final chapter count 👀👀

Consider this the beginning of my evil era.

Spoilers for the overt homophobia in this chapter (slur included):

The homophobia starts after “So, Cap, why were you in Tampa?”, and ends at Okay, possibly the worst way to defend someone. Comeau calls Shane a fag, Shane uses the same word to refer to himself in response. There is also some more implied stuff in the same paragraphs.

Spoilers for how evil I'm gonna get in the next chapters:

This is it. It might get very slightly worse before it gets better, but there will be no outing and Hollanov will get a very self-indulgent happy ending. It's not written yet, but it honestly might end up less angsty and more mushy than the book canon.

J.J. spent a significant portion of the day glued to his phone. Between a thorough questioning from their Coach about where Hollander was – during which he pretended not to know anything – the flight to Detroit, their morning skate, and the game itself, he didn’t actually have that much free time, but he didn’t want to miss any of Wyatt’s updates.

The proposal had gone perfectly. They’d managed to book room 1217, and Roz hadn’t suspected a thing until Wyatt had led him there after breakfast. Apparently, that was the room in which they’d admitted to each other, back in 2017, that they wanted to be something more, even though it had felt impossible at the time. A bittersweet feeling swept through J.J..

All the candles J.J. had ordered had gotten to the hotel in time, and Shane had found matching rings in the right sizes at the airport. Both of them had cried – J.J. honestly couldn’t imagine Roz crying, but Wyatt had taken it upon himself to buy a Polaroid at the electronics shop near the hotel and be their photographer, so he had the pictures to prove it. They’d told Wyatt that they didn’t have any photos together that weren’t from official events, too scared in case anything leaked. Heart breaking for them, he teared up a little bit, too.

After that, the two had spent most of the day alone in the room (J.J. wasn’t surprised), but they’d joined the rest of the team for some fun on the beach and a celebratory dinner, sporting their new rings and a couple of very obvious hickeys (J.J. was a bit surprised). So now all the Centaurs, their Head Coach, and their social media guy knew that Shane and Roz were not only together, but also engaged. And they were okay with it. Fully supportive.

Wow. Imagine that.

There must have been something in the Ottawan water, if not even Barrett had said anything negative. Yes, calling out Kent for being a piece of shit rapist had been a very brave thing to do, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t still an asshole himself. They’d been the best of friends before that, after all.

The Voyageurs’ game against Detroit ended up being a horrible and tiring nightmare that they lost in the second OT, but J.J. couldn’t bring himself to be too upset about it.

The next morning, loud, incessant banging on their hotel room door woke J.J. and Frappé up, making both of them groan. After such a shit game, they deserved rest, not what sounded like an army trying to knock down their door at – J.J. checked his phone, ignoring the myriad of notifications – 6:37 a.m..

Frappé turned his back to J.J. and pulled the blanket over his head. Awesome.

J.J. rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got up to open the door, only to be greeted by Coach Theriault shouting in his face.

“Boiziau! Mind explaining to me what the fuck Hollander is doing in fucking Tampa?”

Shit. How did he know where Shane had gone?

“I don’t know, Coach. I told you, he said that it was a family emergency.”

He tried to play dumb, but he could see that it wasn’t working.

“In the same hotel as the fucking Centaurs?”

J.J. shrugged. “That’s all I know.”

Theriault sneered. “If you hear anything from Hollander, you come to me right away. You understand, Boiziau?”

“Yes, Coach.”

He turned around and left without another word.

What the fuck?

J.J. lunged for his phone and opened the notifications. Tabarnak, there really were a lot. He quickly found what had caused the issue – most of the messages were about it. Someone from the Cens’ hotel had taken a photo of Shane.

Crisse de câlice de tabarnak d'esti de sacrament.

Okay, J.J., calm down. It wasn’t anything actually incriminating. It could be anyone, really, if he squinted. The photo was a bit blurry, obviously having been taken in a hurry, and the person in it was half-turned. But yeah, it was Shane.

He scoured every social media platform to see if there were more photos. Nothing. No proof that Shane and Roz had even talked, let alone had just gotten engaged. Dieu merci.

But the hockey side of the internet was still full of speculations. It was bad, to say the least.

Most people were confused. Quite a few comments were calling Shane a traitor. A small subset of accounts with very suggestive usernames were talking about what this meant for “Hollanov”, whatever that was.

J.J. instantly regretted googling the term once he discovered “Hockey RPF”. Okay, so there was a group of hockey fans whose favourite pastime was imagining the players fucking. They didn’t actually know anything for sure, although some of them were very insistent, even going as far as suggesting that the WAGs were “beards” or paid actors, and the children were dolls. Creepy, but nobody important was taking them seriously. “Hollanov” was like “Brangelina”, but for Shane and Roz. There were some people who thought that Shane was together with Pike (ha!) or that Roz was with Marlow. J.J. closed his browser and put his phone face down when he discovered that someone had written a story about him, Shane, and Pike having a threesome in the Voyageurs’ locker room. Enough rabbit holes for the day.

He hoped that Shane didn’t know about this part of the internet. He was pretty offline, most of the time.

He wondered if he’d seen the photo that was circulating. He would be flying directly to Chicago that evening, to meet them there for their last away game before going back to Montréal. J.J. didn’t want to think about what the team’s reaction was going to be, once they found out where their Capitaine had been – and they were definitely going to find out.

J.J. sighed and glanced over to the other bed. Frappé was still asleep, but he wasn’t going to risk calling Shane with someone else in the room. Texting him was probably useless. If J.J.’s notifications had been flooded, Shane’s were surely worse. He still shot him a message to call when he had the time, just in case.

His intuitions had been right, of course. Being the people Shane was closest to on the team, both he and Pike were bombarded with questions as soon as they sat down for breakfast. They sounded a bit more aggressive than the day before, after Shane’s text in the team groupchat about his family emergency. And this time, Pike was less clueless – Shane had told him the real reason for his absence. He wasn’t happy about it, but at least he stayed tight-lipped, and neither of them said anything that wasn’t already known. The team eased off after realizing that they would be getting nothing out of them.

Shane finally called him that afternoon, after the Voyageurs’ plane had landed in Chicago. He sounded panicked. He was alone, the Cens already off getting ready to hit the ice against Tampa. J.J. did his best to calm him down and catch him up with what was going on with the team. He wasn’t sure that the calming part worked, so he offered to pick him up from the airport, but Shane refused. He could find his own way to the hotel.

“Okay, fine, but you still have to let me know when you get here. I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby.”

“Fine, dad.” J.J. could practically hear the eye-roll.

Their greeting was short-lived. Theriault also happened to be in the lobby when Shane arrived, and dragged him off for a “friendly chat”. J.J. followed behind them. He couldn’t make out the words through the thick door, but he could tell that their Coach was shouting, and that Shane was speaking in short, clipped sentences.

After around ten minutes of that, Shane came out alone and huffed when he saw J.J. still waiting for him.

“Hi to you too, Capitaine. How’s engaged life treating you?”

“I know Wyatt already told you everything, J.J..”

“Yes, yes, but I wanna hear it from you. And I haven’t seen the rings yet.”

Shane looked down the corridor to make sure that no one else was there. Finding it empty, he pulled out a gold chain from under his shirt. A simple black band with a gold interior was hanging from it.

“Ooh, nice. I think it suits you.”

“Thanks.” He blushed and slipped the ring back under his shirt. Not even his earlier unpleasant conversation could fully dampen his happy glow. “I’m not going to be wearing it around the team, but, y’know, it’s nice to have.”

It was really fucking sad that Shane could be fully open with his fiancé’s team, but not his own.

“Yeah…” J.J. fought off the sadness. “Let’s get you to your room. Room service and story time?” he asked, calling back to the night he’d first learned about Shane’s relationship.

He shook his head. “Sorry, not right now. I’m kinda tired. I’m just gonna call Ilya and go to sleep.”

“No problem, mon ami. I saw they beat Tampa today. Congratulate him from me, both for the win and the game,” he said, punctuating it with a wink.

Shane laughed. “Yeah, okay, I’ll make sure to do that.”

He shook his head again, as if in disbelief and with a smile on his face, before leaving to find his room.

“So, Cap, why were you in Tampa?” one of the rookies asked while they were getting ready for their morning skate the next day. He didn’t sound very friendly.

“I told you guys, it was a family emergency,” Shane replied in a flat tone, taking his shirt off to change into his equipment.

Drapeau eyed the fresh bruises on his chest suspiciously. They looked like they could’ve been from hockey, truth be told, but they hadn’t been there after their game in Washington. “What’s with those, then?”

“Come on, don’t be such a fag,” Comeau chimed in, like the fucking idiot he was. “You’re supposed to be a team player, not go get your dick wet in sunny Florida and claim it was a ‘family emergency.’”

There were some snickers in the back of the locker room about whose dick was actually sticking where. Shane’s gaze turned steely when they reached his ears, and his next words came out harsh.

“You can’t even win one game without this fag, and suddenly I’m not the team player?”

Stunned silence filled the room. He was right, and everyone knew it, but nobody had ever said it out loud. They had been shit back in 2017 after his injury, and they had been shit against Detroit. The Voyageurs’ strategy had been to get the puck to Shane as often as possible and protect him, no matter what, ever since they’d drafted him. That all tended to fall apart without their star centre.

Comeau was the first to speak up. “So you think you’re better than everyone, huh?”

What a stupid thing to say. He didn’t need to think it, when he objectively was.

Pike stood up and butted in before Shane could answer. “Hey. I know everyone is fucking confused and weirded out right now, but try to remember who the fuck this is. Shane is our fucking Captain. We wouldn’t have won those three Cups without him. You can think it’s gross or whatever to… y’know… but don’t bring that shit into the locker room.”

Okay, possibly the worst way to defend someone, but at least he was saying something. J.J. burned with shame that he couldn’t bring himself to do the same. But any backlash against Pike would be ten times less than what J.J. would get, and he wasn’t brave enough to face it. So he just glared silently at anyone who muttered dumb shit behind their hands.

“Thanks, Hayden,” Shane said, not sounding thankful in the least, and clapped Pike on his back. “Better get on the ice fast if you want a fourth Cup too.”

After that, everyone remained quiet while they dressed, the tension in the locker room so thick that one could have cut it with a knife.

Morning skate was bad. The game was somehow worse. The guys were playing angry and kept getting stupid penalties. They managed to eke out a win just because the other team skated like it was their first time seeing ice. Their only two goals were both scored by Shane, with one assist from Pike and one from J.J.. That didn’t improve the vibe in any way for their following games.

And the rumours just kept building in the weeks leading up to All-Stars. People on the internet were throwing out unsupported claims regarding when and where they’d also spotted Shane. The Voyageurs’ management and coaching staff were restless and angry. There were no statements from either Shane or the Centaurs.

Most of the All-Stars players had already been announced at the beginning of January. J.J. hadn’t been invited, but Shane was on the list (no surprises there). Crowell would probably love to uninvite him if he could.

J.J. hoped that it would all blow over soon. He wanted to help Shane, but didn’t know what he could do, except offer his silent, steady support in public, and a listening ear in private.

Chapter End Notes

Ilya in the locker room before they play against Tampa: You support the gays, yes? Then winning this game will be your first engagement gift to me. Winning the game tomorrow will be the second. Understood?

Sorry for the lack of Oli in this chapter. I promise he'll be back for the next!

Also, in case anyone is wondering why I'm not making Pike worse: my thesis statement is that he's not actively malicious, just a privileged, thoughtless & self-centered straight white man, who's never tried to examine his biases. I think that's bad enough on its own.

Chapter 6

Chapter Notes

Two chapters in one day? Anything for those sweet sweet Hollanov and J.J./Oli (JJoli? Jolly?) moments.

Also let's please all pretend that J.J. and Oli are texting in French. Unfortunately for this fic, I took German in school instead of French as the second foreign language, and I don't trust google translate. Cool? Cool.

J.J. had accepted Wyatt’s invitation to get drinks after their game before the Centaurs had beaten them 6-2. It hadn’t made him change his mind, but losing so badly against what had once been the worst team in the League stung. Even if they were good now.

He thought about extending the invitation to Shane, but he probably already had his own plans with Roz. Cue his shocked face when he spotted both of them, squeezed into the back of the small private booth Wyatt had reserved. Shane looked more relaxed than he’d been all week. They weren’t alone – Wyatt had his arm slung around Lisa on one side, and Bood sat alone on the other, drinks already in front of all of them.

J.J. said hi to everyone and went to plop himself down in the empty space, but Bood waved at him to wait and stood up.

“I’m not staying long. Gotta get back home to Cassie. Do you want anything to drink? It’s on the winners, for the losers.”

He snorted, but told him that whatever beer they had on tap would be great, and scooted to sit next to Shane.

“So,” Roz began once Bood was back with his beer, pinning J.J. with the sort of look that would have made lesser men squirm. “Someone told me that I have Montreal’s 14th best player to thank for this.” He gestured with his right hand, making the simple black band he wore on his ring finger catch the lights of the bar. It was the same as the one Shane had shown him after their engagement.

J.J. let out a barking laugh. “14th? Who are the other 13?”

Roz rolled his eyes. “Hollander, obviously. He carries all of you on his back.”

Shane made a weird face that looked equal parts preening and embarrassed, but J.J. couldn’t disagree. They’d always played their worst games when he was injured – or off getting engaged. And the team had gotten visibly worse since Chicago, bad enough for sports commentators to notice and start questioning what was going on. It was obvious that Shane was being iced out, and it was hurting their game. The only ones who still passed to him regularly were J.J. and Pike. Compared to the Centaurs’ eleven-game win streak, the Voyageurs were in the dust.

If management wanted Shane to stay with them and keep winning Cups instead of finding himself a better team once he became an Unrestricted Free Agent in July, letting the guys – who’d been acquired just so they could rebuild the team around their star player – hang him out to dry wasn’t the way to do it. And with how the Cens had been playing lately, together with their obviously good team culture? J.J. had a feeling that he knew who Shane would be signing with, if he were to move.

J.J. would move there himself, but unfortunately, he loved living in Montréal. He would miss all the friends he’d made in the city.

Roz grinned at Shane, and wow, he’d thought that the “Hollanov” fans who talked about “heart-eyes-Rozanov” were a bit delusional, but it turned out that no, he really did that.

Shane, in turn, had mischief in his eyes – also not something J.J. had ever thought he’d see, out in the open like this.

“Would you say that I’m the best player in the League?”

“Hmm, no, that’s still me,” Roz replied after pretending to think for a moment.

“Yeah, right. I’m gonna make you eat ice this weekend, Rozanov.”

“No chance. We beat you today, I’ll beat you at All-Stars, too.” Roz leaned very close to Shane and stage-whispered into his ear loud enough for their entire table to hear. “But I have an idea of what else I could eat.”

Shane scrunched his nose and shoved Roz’s face away with a “Shut the fuck up!” He was also wearing his ring. J.J. supposed that it was less obvious like that, on their right hands. Could be explained as a new fashion accessory.

Roz cackled like some sort of Russian hockey witch and slumped back against his seat, but Shane tensed. He looked surreptitiously around the group, searching for something. Did he think that they would be genuinely disgusted by the innuendo? They were a good bunch – it had only garnered a few light chuckles and a conversation that had moved on naturally. Seemingly content with what he found, Shane’s shoulders relaxed. 

J.J. saw his hand move under the table, probably to Roz’s thigh. They shared another “heart-eyes” look, and Roz whispered something into his ear again, this time only for him. Shane nodded minutely, sketching a small smile.

True to his word, Bood left soon after to take care of his very pregnant wife. What a great guy. J.J. remembered how some of the guys on his team had stayed out all night when their own wives had been pregnant.

Sitting with the two remaining happy couples and a now-empty seat next to him as company, J.J.’s thoughts drifted to Oli for some reason. Why? Yes, he’d tried to set him up with Shane, but he didn’t regret that it hadn’t worked out. Shane and Roz were obviously perfect for each other. And Oli had promised that he wasn’t mad that J.J. had gone alone to his party. They wouldn’t have kept on chatting almost every day if he had been. J.J. wondered what Oli was doing at that moment. 

Was he also thinking of J.J.? 

Probably not. He was a busy man, working on setting up his own architecture firm so he could have more creative control and independence with his projects. Shane also liked architecture stuff, right? He’d taken a very hands-on approach with designing his own “cottage”. Maybe he could introduce them, just as friends. J.J. would like them to get along, so they could all hang out together. Roz could be there, too.

He thought about giving Oli one of his seats for their home games. He was a fan, and he’d bought his own tickets to a few of their games in the past. J.J. would give his 110%, show off a little. Then he’d invite Oli to get drinks with the more decent guys on the team. Too bad they were currently playing like shit, and J.J. would be embarrassed if Oli saw that in person.

He quickly excused himself to the bathroom. Hopefully, he could splash some water on his face and get out of this weird mood.

On his way back to the table, his phone buzzed three times in rapid succession. He’d turned off most of his notifications so he wouldn’t get flooded again, but there were a few that were set to still get through.

Olivier Lacroix 👨🏿‍🦱😎🏛️📐:

Saw the game

Sorry you lost

Are you with your team now?

Holy shit. Had J.J. developed magical intuition powers without noticing?

Me:

It happens

We’ll get them next time

💪🏾💪🏾💪🏾

With Shane and 2 from the other team

And 1 of the guys’ wife

Why?

The response was almost instant.

Olivier Lacroix 👨🏿‍🦱😎🏛️📐:

Just wanted to ask if you wanna hang tomorrow

I know you’re staying in Montréal for the break and thought it would be nice to just chill

J.J. was so distracted from reading his messages that he accidentally walked straight into a woman, making her spill her drink all over the floor. He apologized profusely and offered to buy her another one. He hoped that she realized he wasn’t trying to flirt with her at all, just really, really sorry.

While he got all that sorted, another message from Oli appeared.

Olivier Lacroix 👨🏿‍🦱😎🏛️📐:

No worries if you have other plans already

Fuck. He didn’t want Oli to think that he was ditching him.

Me:

Sorry, just spilled someone’s drink and had to buy a new one haha

No other plans

I’d love to hang out with you

Olivier Lacroix 👨🏿‍🦱😎🏛️📐:

Great 💙

See you around 5?

You know where I live

Me:

👍🏾👍🏾👍🏾

See you then!

J.J. had a cheesy smile on his face when he got back to their table. Everyone turned to him with questioning looks.

“What took you so long? Did you get lost? I thought being that tall makes you see over heads better, but maybe it also makes you not see where you put your feet. Is that why you skate so bad?” Roz chirped. 

Mon Dieu, did the guy ever shut up? But he did sound more like an annoying little brother and less like the evil chirping mastermind most of the League thought he was. J.J. should pay him back in kind.

“Does being shorter than me make you closer to Satan? Is that why you’re such an asshole?”

Shane’s eyes widened dramatically. Wyatt and Lisa disguised their laughs as coughs. Roz rewarded him with a shark-like grin.

“I like you. You can stay.”

“Eh. I guess you’re okay too.”

Shane’s still-wide eyes jumped between the two of them as they fist-bumped.

“See, moya lyubov? I can be friends with your friends.” He smacked a very loud, very wet kiss on Shane’s cheek.

“Ugh, you’re gross.” He wiped the saliva off with his hand, then wiped his hand on Roz’s shirt.

Roz made a disgruntled noise and threatened to lick Shane all over his face if he’d thought that was gross.

J.J. turned to Wyatt and Lisa. “Are they like this all the time?”

“Like a pair of squabbling children?” Lisa clarified.

“Yeah, most of the time. I think it’s one of their love languages.”

J.J. thought back to the way they’d kept shoving each other against the glass during the game. They’d both been grinning like lunatics. Had their entire rivalry been just a front for their foreplay?

The insane-sounding theory was confirmed moments later, when J.J. noticed that their gazes had turned heated at some point during the play-fight. J.J. could feel his own face heating up. They made a really attractive couple, objectively speaking.

Shane stuttered out some excuses, not at all subtly, and they left together. They were, perhaps, even more attractive from the back. Objectively. J.J. was straight, not blind. Like 90% straight. Okay, maybe 80%.

Chapter End Notes

Bisexuality is skating after J.J., but J.J. is faster 🏒🏃🏾‍♂️

Chapter 7

Chapter Notes

Three new chapters in one day also counts as a hat trick if you ask me.

Olivier Lacroix was an incredibly handsome man, and he probably knew it. People were probably telling him that all the time. Men were probably falling down to their knees and begging for a chance to be with him, if only for one night. He could’ve been a supermodel if he wanted to.

He was almost a head shorter than J.J. – but then again, most people were shorter than him – and always wore well-tailored clothes. The tight turtleneck he had on as he opened his door showed off his biceps very nicely. His warm, dark brown eyes crinkled behind his wire-frame glasses.

“Hey, glad you could make it,” he greeted. It was also very nice to have someone he could talk to in French, without needing to switch back to English even occasionally.

“Thank you for inviting me.” J.J. raised the six-pack of craft beer he was holding. “I brought this.”

Oli stepped back from the door. “You can just leave it in the kitchen. You already know your way around.”

Yes, J.J. had been there often enough to know his way around, but he couldn’t help but still admire the house every time. It was an architect’s wet dream, inside and out. Oli had designed it himself.

They opened two of the beers, and for the first half an hour, Oli listened patiently as J.J. complained about everything that was wrong with his team. J.J. returned the favour, letting him rant about how difficult starting a business from the ground up was. Then Oli pulled up one of the smart-people movies he liked on his large TV. J.J. wasn’t able to pay any attention to that, and not because he was stupid.

Rather, he kept getting distracted by the man sitting beside him on the couch.

The first thing that caught his eyes were his freshly-braided cornrows, done in a sort of half-spiral. He seemed to get a different pattern every time he had them re-done, and J.J. always wanted to compliment them, but he wasn’t quite sure how to do it without sounding awkward.

Next were the pair of pearl earrings he was wearing. J.J. was sure that he wouldn’t be able to pull something like that off and would feel maybe a bit ridiculous, but they made Oli look distinguished.

The worst offender was, perhaps, the small mole above the left corner of his lips. J.J. once had a very weird dream in which he was licking it, and he’d woken up hard and feeling guilty.

At one point, they reached for the bowl of chips between them at the same time, and J.J. flinched back as if burned. Oli’s skin was darker than his own, and looked perfectly soft and smooth. J.J. wondered for a moment what it would feel like under his fingers if the touch wasn’t only accidental.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, Oli must have noticed the glances he was getting, because he paused the movie and turned towards J.J., moving the bowl to the coffee table. J.J. felt himself start to sweat under the keen eyes that were studying him. Then, Oli leaned in, very slowly, as if giving him time to run.

They were kissing.

Or, more accurately, Oli was gently pressing his lips to J.J.’s while J.J. sat frozen in place.

Oli pulled back after mere seconds, looking apologetic and slightly scared.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, J.J.. I totally misread the situation. Please don’t be mad.”

A million thoughts were flying like a whirlwind through J.J.’s mind, too fast to catch. The only thing he could focus on was, for some reason, facial hair. J.J. only grew out his beard during play-offs, and he never liked how it felt. But Oli had a very stylish and well-groomed disconnected goatee that he must have been putting a lot of daily effort into maintaining. And the slight scratch of it against J.J.’s face had felt much nicer than his own beard ever had.

The kiss had been unexpected, but, J.J. realized, not at all unwelcome.

He was the one to bridge the gap between them for the next one.

It was late by the time J.J. got home, but he called Shane without a second thought before even removing his shoes.

“Hey, Shane, can I bring a plus one to your wedding?” he asked, getting straight (ha!) to the point.

“Hi. We still have over five months until then, but sure. Who is it?”

“Do you remember Oli? Olivier Lacroix. He’s the guy I tried to set you up with back in December.”

A very loud and accented “No!” was shouted into the phone. There was a brief scuffle, then a fainter “Ilya, give me my fucking phone back.” J.J. felt a bit bad for having interrupted their night.

“Umm, why do you want to invite him to my wedding?” Shane finally asked, slightly out of breath.

“We’re dating now.”

“You’re what?” Shane almost shouted, accompanied by Roz’s Russian hockey witch cackle in the background.

“You owe me 20 dollars, Hollander!”

J.J. was almost afraid to ask why that was the case. He did anyway.

Roz’s voice was loud in his ear again. “I told him you are not straight. He did not believe me.”

The phone went back to Shane. “Sorry, he’s very perceptive with this kind of stuff.” That had the tone of an inside joke between them. “So how did uhh… this happen?”

“I mean, it’s kinda new, but I can really see it going somewhere. We’ve been chatting almost every day since New Year’s, and stuff sorta just happened while we were hanging out today. We’re going on our first official date tomorrow.” J.J. was bubbling with excitement.

“That sounds great, J.J.. I’m really happy for you,” Shane said sincerely.

“Yes, I am also happy he settled for worse player than Shane,” Roz chimed in. It sounded like they’d compromised and put the phone on speaker between them.

“Ilya…” There was a warning note in Shane’s voice.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’ll behave, moy zloy kotenok.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m not an angry kitten.”

“Whatever you say, moye odeyalo.”

“And how are things with you two?” J.J. jumped in before it could devolve into another one of their weird foreplays with an audience of one. He could’ve hung up, he supposed, but listening to them was equal parts fascinating, endearing, and mildly disturbing.

“I won the fastest skater competition.”

“Basically a tie,” Roz grumbled.

“Tell that to the leaderboard and see if it believes you,” Shane retorted.

Okay, changing the subject. Urgently.

“Sounds fun. Anything else interesting?”

“Crowell threatened Shane.” J.J. felt his eyes bulge out at the information Roz dropped with a casually murderous tone.

“It wasn’t–” Shane huffed out a breath. “Okay, fine, he came to find me after the competition and told me that he knows about the situation in Montreal. That I should be wise and not make it worse. I might have said some things back.”

“Mhm, it was very sexy. Don’t tell your man that, Boiziau. I don’t want him to get any ideas.”

Telling Oli anything about how sexy Roz found Shane was probably the last thing on J.J.’s mind, somewhere below thinking about where he’d left his socks last night. Which he never cared to do.

“He shouldn’t be allowed to just say things like that. What are we gonna do about it?”

Shane sighed. “There’s nothing we can do right now. Look, we’ll talk more about it after the break, okay?”

J.J. agreed reluctantly. They said their goodbyes and hung up.

He feared that Montréal was becoming a dangerous place for his friend.

Chapter End Notes

J.J., bisexuality be upon ye!

Chapter 8

Chapter Notes

J.J. started spiraling instantly after the high of his time spent with Oli wore off. If their Capitaine could be treated like that without any repercussions, what was it going to mean for him to be surrounded by a bunch of racist, homophobic dickheads? It wasn’t like he was engaged to his rival or anything, but the guys didn’t know that Shane was engaged to Roz either. They just had a problem with him being Asian, gay, and better than everyone. His heart broke for Shane again, but it was breaking for himself a little, too.

Maybe being a solid, middle-of-the-pack player on the team instead of the best in their generation would grant J.J. a bit more leeway.

They didn’t end up having the time to talk about the Crowell Situation after the break.

Shane was called into a meeting with the GM and Theriault as soon as they were back at their practice rink. The raised voices of the three men could be heard all the way to the locker room. By the next day, Shane had quietly waived the full No-Movement Clause in his contract. He’d wanted to retire as a Voyageur, and he didn’t even get to finish his last season before his Unrestricted Free Agency with the team that had drafted him.

By the next week, he was hitting the ice in a Centaurs’ jersey.

The statement that the Voyageurs put out was the most milquetoast nothingburger about “trying out new things”, “shaking up team dynamics”, “wishing Shane Hollander good luck” – they didn’t even mention the three Cups he’d won them. And they didn’t seem to realize that they’d just handed Ottawa victory on a silver platter.

J.J. was going to miss him, but Shane looked happier and freer every time J.J. watched one of their games.

He and Roz also adopted a dog at some point in March. Anya was an adorable little thing, and Roz’s Instagram became full of photos of her wearing cute outfits. J.J. liked all of them.

By the time play-offs rolled around, Shane had an “A” stitched onto his jersey.

He was going up against his former team for the first series, and the Montréal crowd was deafening, equal parts cheering and booing. J.J. saw him smirk as he took the face-off spot, an expression that used to be more at home on Roz’s face. He was Shane fucking Hollander, and he knew it. J.J. would be secretly glad if they lost against him.

But it did sting a whole fucking lot when the Centaurs absolutely decimated the Voyageurs in only four games.

With only free time suddenly ahead of him, J.J. decided to take Oli on a trip to New York for the Centaurs’ last game against the Admirals in their second round of the play-offs. That one ended up going all the way to game 7. It was anyone’s guess if the Centaurs would advance to the Conference Finals, a sentence J.J. had never thought he’d hear.

J.J. was biting his nails as they went into OT. He was honestly more stressed than he’d been for any of his own play-off games, except maybe the first one.

Shane was racing towards the goal with the puck, expertly outmaneuvering the defencemen. They were scrambling to catch up, but nobody was as fast as him. It looked like that would be it. Then the entire crowd gasped as he caught an edge and fell hard onto the ice. It could have happened to anyone, of course, and it wasn’t even the first time it happened to Shane, but it was still a difficult thing to witness this late into such an important game. It could have meant certain loss for the Centaurs.

It didn’t, though.

Roz was there in a flash, stealing the puck that had skidded freely across the ice. He shot it into the net. Straight into the five-hole. J.J. couldn’t believe his eyes.

Neither could anyone else, from the sound of it – the goal horn was barely heard over the roar in the stands, and it took a long time for them to quiet down.

J.J. really wanted to congratulate Shane and finally have him meet his boyfriend face-to-face. They’d hung out after that last loss in Ottawa, but Oli hadn’t had time to make the drive. He didn’t even hesitate to accept the invitation to the Kingfisher for both of them.

He’d never been in a gay bar so full of hockey players, J.J. thought as they arrived at the address Shane had texted him. All the Centaurs were there, and quite a few of the Admirals. It made sense – it was Scott Hunter’s and Eric Bennett’s bar – but it was still weird to see the losing team acting so friendly towards the winners, and in a space like this one at that.

J.J. took hold of Oli’s hand so they wouldn’t accidentally drift apart and looked around, trying to spot his friend among all the other tall, muscular men. Ah, there he was, sitting at a large table with Roz, Barrett and his boyfriend (Harris, the social media guy, he remembered. And what a thought that also was. There must have really been something in the Ottawan water), Hunter and his husband, and Bennett, with three seats still left empty. They looked like a secret society of queer players and HABs.

Roz looked Oli up and down as they took two of the empty seats.

“So you’re the one who tried to steal my Shane from me,” he said, putting a possessive arm around his fiancé, who rolled his eyes.

Oli just chuckled. “In my defence, I didn’t know he was taken at the time. And I promise I’m very happy where I currently am.” He glanced at J.J. out of the corner of his eye.

J.J. cleared his throat. “Oli, you probably already know who everyone here is. Everyone, this is Olivier Lacroix. My boyfriend,” he added, in case it wasn’t clear.

There was a round of handshakes and congratulations.

“You can all call me Oli, if you want.”

The bartender came over to get their drink orders, kissing Bennett on the cheek. Oh, right, that was Kyle, his boyfriend. He’d seen them on his Instagram. They were really cute together.

J.J. eyed the menu, wondering what the hell a “Scott Hunter” was. Roz noticed his confusion.

“They also have a ‘Virgin Scott Hunter’. I’m really sorry for Kip if that’s the case with the real one, too.” He turned abruptly to Kyle. “Hey, you should add a ‘Hollanov’. Vodka with ginger ale. Everyone will buy it after we win the Cup and kiss on the ice. Nobody will remember poor old Scott Hunter then.”

Shane sank low in his seat, groaning and covering his face with both hands. Okay, so Roz had obviously found out about that side of the internet and had also told Shane. Despite the dramatic display, J.J. knew that Shane was exactly where he wanted to be.

After their orders were placed with minimal extra chirping, Scott turned to them with a serious expression.

“I actually wanted to talk to you all about something important.”

“Are you finally retiring? I heard your dinosaur bones creak even from the bench today. Kip, we can find you a much younger and hotter husband. I’m sure there are good divorce lawyers in New York. Or are you waiting for Hunter to turn to dust so you can inherit his money?”

Shane rolled his eyes again, as did half the rest of the table. Kip giggled. Hunter didn’t deign to grace Roz’s antics with any sort of reaction.

“I don’t like what Crowell has been doing. We have to fight back. Carter Vaughan and I are trying to start a group of NHL players.” He paused. “No. Of hockey players – I’ve already reached out to Max Riley and Leah Campbell – who are interested in fighting back against toxic hockey culture. Not just homophobia, but all of it: racism, sexism, rape culture, transphobia, toxic masculinity. I know that sounds kind of huge and impossible, but it has to start somewhere.”

The group seemed shocked, but interested. It did sound huge and impossible to J.J.’s ears. He gripped Oli’s hand tight under the table.

“Like a club?” Roz asked. “Of nice hockey players?”

“Basically,” Hunter said. “I thought when I came out that would make a difference for other queer hockey players.”

“I think it did,” Shane said. He glanced at Roz. “It did for us, anyway.”

“Yeah?” Hunter asked, sounding surprised and maybe a bit touched. “That’s nice to hear. But when I heard Troy’s story, it made me realize that queer NHL players still didn’t feel safe coming out. And that’s just one problem with hockey culture.” He sighed. “Sometimes it all seems so broken I don’t know if it can be fixed. But I want to try.”

Barrett ducked his head at the mention of his name. “Yeah… When you’re so deep in a toxic culture, it’s difficult to see a way out, even if others have already done it.”

“It would be good to speak as a united front. That way, we can make more noise on social media if something happens. Show other people that they aren’t alone and they can reach out to any of us,” Harris added. “I hope you will also be accepting non-players, because I want to be in.”

Hunter’s eyes flashed with excitement. “Exactly! I have over fifty hockey players interested in joining already. I think we can really do this. And I’d love to get people working on the other side of the bench to join, too.”

Roz looked between Shane and Barrett, then twisted in his seat towards the other Centaurs scattered around the Kingfisher. “Our entire team will join, I think. And our Coach as well. He’s a good guy.”

Shane, Barrett, and Harris nodded in agreement. Hunter turned to lock eyes with J.J..

“What do you think?”

It still sounded huge and impossible. But J.J. wouldn’t be alone – over fifty other players already, plus whoever else was going to join, including his best friend. Once upon a time, J.J. had only dreamed of Shane snapping at the pieces of shit on their team, but he’d actually done it. If he could be brave, then so could J.J.. And with Oli by his side, he could get through anything. Fuck the consequences, he wanted to stand up for what was right.

“I’m in.”

It took the Centaurs six games to beat Carolina in the Conference Finals. Then they were up against Edmonton. They were in front of the Ottawa home crowd for what was to be the last game of the Stanley Cup Finals, no matter which team won. Watching them play was a bit like watching magic happen.

The seconds for the third period were ticking down, the Centaurs leading 2-1. The clock hit 00:00. There was not going to be any OT. The Centaurs had won.

It was going to be a moment to write in the hockey history books, and not just for that reason.

Roz lifted the Cup with the biggest grin J.J. had ever seen on his face, and he skated directly to Shane after his lap around the rink. An electric look passed between them as he handed it over.

And then they were kissing.

In front of God, Crowell, the thousands of people in the stands, and millions sitting in front of their TVs, Cup still held above their heads.

The crowd’s reaction was even wilder than it had been for Scott Hunter. The Kingfisher staff would definitely have to make sure that they were well-stocked on ginger ale.

Chapter End Notes

Queer hockey avengers assemble! I told you the ending would be very self-indulgent, didn’t I? Is it realistic? Probably not. Do I care? Also no.

Last chapter: Hollanov wedding

 

Also a little something that I couldn’t make fit into the chapter, but I want you all to know 100% happened:

Roz: “Don’t worry, Boiziau, we’re also starting a club for the bisexual players. Bennett doesn’t count because he’s retired, but we’ll get more.”

Shane: “Ilya, you can’t just turn people bisexual. That’s not how it works.”

Roz: “Turned you gay, didn’t I?”

Chapter 9

Chapter Notes

Shane and Roz went on the press tour to end all press tours after the Centaurs’ victory party was over – being the first couple to win the Stanley Cup together wasn’t something that could be easily dismissed or swept under the rug, as J.J. was sure Crowell would’ve preferred to do.

But the statement that Shane had posted on Instagram said it all, really. Only the nasty details had been left out.

There have been a lot of speculations regarding my presence in Tampa during the Voyageurs’ game in Detroit and my subsequent trade to the Ottawa Centaurs, on which I haven’t commented until now. I would like to emphasize that there was no collusion, and, as I told my team at the time, I was there for a family emergency, for which any player is allowed to take leave without being obligated to disclose its nature.

The choice to travel there was made during a time of great stress for both me and my partner, Ilya Rozanov, after the Centaurs’ plane incident. We realized that we needed to take legal steps to ensure that we could make medical decisions for one another in case of something graver happening in the future.

The trade took place because, as we were hiding our relationship, I couldn’t be fully honest with the team, and that put a strain on the dynamics in the locker room and on the ice. The Voyageurs’ management and I reached the mutual agreement that parting ways would be the best way forward for all involved.

Saying that, Ilya and I would like to announce, officially, that we are in a committed, romantic relationship, and have been for several years.

We know that our relationship will be difficult for a lot of people to accept and understand. We have never let our personal relationship interfere with our competitiveness on the ice, and we believe our career achievements show that very clearly. We’ve always kept personal and professional separate, and we hope our fans and the League can do the same.

We would also like to thank our family, friends, and the entire Ottawa Centaurs organization for the unwavering support they’ve shown us – as players, as individuals, and as partners.

Very professional. Very PR-approved.

The text was accompanied by a series of photos – their on-ice kiss, them in their backyard with Anya between them, them in their camp coach tracksuits, a professional shot of one of their old face-offs, and finally, one of the polaroids from their engagement, set against a white background. Their faces weren’t visible in that last one, obscured by the tight hug they held each other in. But what was clearly visible was the ring on Roz’s finger, glinting in the light of hundreds of electric candles.

Roz had posted the same photos, with a much simpler caption.

Can’t wait to win more Stanley Cups with my future husband 🏒🏆💪👨🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻

Be nice if you want to come to our wedding in July!

J.J. could barely hold himself back from peeling the clothes off Oli as they were getting ready to leave for the wedding. He just looked too good. Sorry, grooms, but J.J. and Oli were going to be the best-dressed couple there.

The wedding itself was definitely… unique. The ceremony was short and sweet. Shane and Roz had decided to hold it in their backyard, which could barely contain the approximately one hundred people who had shown up. There were no chairs, for some reason, but at least there was plenty of food and alcohol. Mostly alcohol. J.J. promised himself that if he survived the night, he’d never touch Russian vodka again.

He was sprawled out on his back in the grass, and the strings of lights were spinning above him. So were the stars. So was Shane, whose head suddenly appeared in his field of view.

“You should sit up and drink some water,” he said, plopping down next to him and placing a bottle within reach.

“Une seconde, Capitaine.” J.J. didn’t think he’d ever stop calling him that.

He didn’t move, waiting for the spinning to stop. Shane stayed with him, silent and patient. J.J. blurted out the question that hadn’t left him alone since he’d decided to become one with the ground.

“Why didn’t you have any chairs?”

“Huh?” He sounded as if J.J. had just pulled him out of some deep thoughts.

He finally sat up and took a swig of the water before rephrasing. “During the ceremony. There weren’t any chairs. Why?”

“Oh.” Shane ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “We didn’t know how many people would show up and didn’t want any empty seats. Or to have too few, I guess.” He added that last sentence as an afterthought.

Which, fair enough. Shane had invited all the Voyageurs, out of courtesy or some misplaced sense of past loyalty. J.J. had been the only one who showed up. Even Jackie and the kids – who’d already left for their bedtime – had come without Pike. J.J. wondered if they were on the verge of a divorce. Still–

“You could’ve asked us to RSVP.”

“Maybe…” Shane trailed off, seeming lost in thought again. “There still would’ve been an empty seat, though.”

“What?” J.J. didn’t understand. Was he too drunk, or was his friend really not making any sense?

He let out a long sigh. “Ilya’s mom. We wanted her here with us, but seeing the empty chair would’ve been too painful for Ilya. So I suggested that we don’t actually need any.”

Fuck. Why did every stupid thing have to be secretly either tragic, romantic, or tragically romantic with these two?

Shane smiled at him as if he’d heard his thoughts. Had J.J. said that out loud? Whoops.

“Come on, let’s get you back to your boyfriend.”

He let himself be pulled up and led back into the house. 

“Where’s your husband?”

Shane snorted. “Still holding court in the living room.”

The crowd had thinned out, leaving behind only close friends and a bunch of empty plates and glasses on almost every available surface. J.J. blinked as he noticed that those close friends also included a Hollywood A-List actress drunkenly making out against the kitchen counter with the daughter of the Boston Bears’ Hall of Fame former goaltender. He blinked again. Yeah, no, not a hallucination.

J.J. turned back to Shane, just in time to see his entire face light up as if it was the sun coming out from behind the clouds. He followed his line of sight and found Roz on the other end of it, sporting an equally besotted expression.

“Solnyshko, come here, I missed you.” Roz made grabby hands in Shane’s direction.

“I was gone for like five minutes,” Shane said, but went to him without protest.

He sat down next to Roz on the couch, and his husband plastered himself to his side, half on top of him, like a particularly affectionate octopus.

“Mhm, five minutes too long. Remember our vows? You promised to love, honour, and cherish me, not leave me cold and alone, surrounded by all these people who aren’t you,” he whined, accent thicker than usual. He was probably almost as drunk as J.J. felt.

“You big baby. You know I love you.” Shane pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, then, playing with his curls, said quieter, “Ya lyublyu tebya.”

Roz had tears in his eyes as he whispered back, “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.”

Everyone still in the living room turned politely away from the intimate moment between the newlyweds. They were too tooth-rottingly sweet, and made J.J. also miss his own boyfriend. Where was he? Shane had been supposed to help him find Oli, but he was obviously busy now.

J.J. felt a pair of strong arms embrace him from behind. Oh. There he was. He twisted around and kissed him thoroughly.

“We’re not getting married in our backyard,” he said as soon as they broke apart.

“Is this your way of asking me to marry you, or are you just asking to move in with me? I know we both like my house more than yours,” Oli said between giggles, making J.J. pout.

Oli made sure to kiss the pout off his lips.

“Can I, actually? Move in with you?”

The earnest question was rewarded by the warm, crinkly-eyed smile J.J. loved so much.

“Of course. I’d love that.”

“I love you so much,” he said, peppering his boyfriend’s face in kisses.

Oli giggled again, but this time J.J. knew it was because he was very, very ticklish. “I love you too.”

They stumbled away from the living room to find a more private place to keep kissing in.

The next morning (read: noon), still naked and snuggled into Oli’s side in one of the spare bedrooms, J.J. woke up to a pounding headache and two texts from Roz in a newly-created groupchat.

Ilya Hollander-Rozanov 👱🏻‍♂️😈🏒🐎:

Everyone who listened to us have married sex last night can also help clean the house

Water & pills for hangovers in downstairs bathroom 👍👍

Chapter End Notes

Please picture me looking like an Eastern European grandma lovingly cooking over an ancient stove top for her grandchildren as I sprinkle the hints of Jackie/Hayden divorce and Roselana into this chapter for the added flavour.

And with that, this fic comes to an end. Hope you enjoyed!