Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Troy Barrett & Shane Hollander

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Troy Barrett

Additional Tags:

General, Shane meeting the Centaurs, new team tension, Shane coping with being outed, bitchy Shane Hollander, post outing, married hollanov, post The Long Game, slightly unresolved conflict, Shane trauma dumps out of frustration, Autistic Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of Let Shane Hollander Crash Out

Collections:

*Heated rivalry melts my heart*

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-12 Completed: 2026-04-14 Words: 6,353 Chapters: 2/2

Shane Hollander Hates Troy Barrett

Summary

"Hollander."

He nodded back. "Barrett."

"So can we talk about why you don't like me?" Troy snapped. Then winced. Jesus, he sounded like a whiny bitch.

But it startled Shane enough to get his full attention and a bewildered expression.

"What?"

*Shane's POV added in 2nd chapter*

Notes

This was buzzing around my head for a few days. Something, something, Shane bottling shit up & dumping it on the most available target, I don't know. I wanted to make it longer, but I am otherwise occupied.

Also don't talk to me about the timelines, I'm pretending they haven't interacted for more than professional pleasantries!

#LetShaneBeABitch

Edit: If you come into my comments to tell me Shane is Wrong and Being Bad, I am going to laugh at you. Maybe block you. Depends on my mood.

Chapter 1

Troy was still getting used to the new version of Shane Hollander. He was nice enough…quiet. There was just a lot to process, okay? Just wrapping his brain around all of the new information, the new context, his crazy intense response to Crowell, who nobody in their right mind argued with. It didn't help much that Shane only knew him as Dallas Kent's lackey and then his husband's gay teammate. Ilya had given him a head's up after they were outed, Shane was more than a little jealous and would probably be weird about it.

"Weird?"

"A little. At first. Until he decides you're a good player and forgives you."

"Forgives me for what?"

"For getting to hang out with me, play on my line."

"Roz I almost asked for his number, not—"

"Yes, yes, but he's a little crazy this way. He doesn't like Luca either."

"Haas? What did Haas do?"

He waved Troy off. "Bah, I said his name too many times." Why did Troy have a feeling there was more to it than that? "Listen, just ignore his face, okay? He'll get over it."

"Ignore his—? What do you mean weird?"

But Ilya didn't answer because he skated off to meet the agility coach and left Troy to have a crisis over meeting Shane Hollander.

They met briefly at their meeting with Crowell, but Shane was obviously preoccupied. Not much of a chance to talk or get to know him. Then again at the wedding, but only briefly in passing as Ilya introduced them all as the team. Troy had missed Bood's barbecue. Then Shane had missed the first day of the Irina Foundation summer camp because of meetings.

According to Ilya, he wasn't very happy about it, but there wasn't much to be done. The League and team management wanted everyone on the same page, and Crowell was not about to accommodate anyone's schedule. Ilya even got pulled for an hour. So he just hadn't had the opportunity to have a real conversation with the man, and not one on one either.

The second day the rag tag group professional hockey players trudged into the coachs' locker room to see the stall next to Ilya's just as full as their own. A fresh Hollander label tacked along the top trim right next to Rozanov.

"Holy shit," Boyle muttered, "he's really here."

Indeed he was, five minutes later, Ilya came strolling in with The Shane Hollander tucked under his arm, both of them grinning. Ilya withdrew his arm and clapped loudly to get their attention.

"Listen up fives! A ten has something to say!"

The Centaurs all groaned in tandem, much to the amusement of the other players. Ilya had spent the whole playoff run "rating" them, and unless they played well, would refer to them as their number rating in conversation. Haas and Boodram ranked highest at 8. Troy was a respectable 7. He claimed they collectively averaged to 5. And whoever taught Ilya that phrase had a lot to answer for.

Shane Hollander cleared his throat, bright red.

"So first, I apologize for…literally everything he's going to do and say today." That earned him a good laugh. "I'm Shane, just wanted to say I'm glad you all could make it this summer for our second camp, really looking forward to getting to know some of you better."

Ilya was grinning like a maniac, squeezing Shane's shoulders and jostling him around. Shane, himself, looked embarrassed but relaxed. He let Ilya bully him around the locker room for individual introductions, which Troy kept an eye on. His stall was in the far corner, a choice made on day one with the Centaurs when he was humiliated to be there which became a habit. Now it gave him a chance to scope out Shane.

Except that the hockey legend caught sight of him and his face immediately, dramatically, dropped. Like, full on frowning. Troy reached for his phone to text Harris.

H: Did you talk to him yet? He's so cute, I'm obsessed

T: Roz is introducing him to people now….

T: He definitely hates me

H: What???

"Barrett!" Ilya sang, "Meet my husband! Haasy you too!"

"Shane or Hollander is fine," the man said flatly, sticking his hand out to shake. Troy was trying very hard not to react to Shane's expression. And yet again, he wished he had been at Bood's barbecue to meet him before camp instead of going to Harris' second major family event of the summer. They'd been at the wedding, but it was a brief driveby introduction of the Centaurs and Shane definitely was not sober. Luca had gone home for a few weeks and missed it.

"We've actually already met. Troy Barrett."

"I know."

Oh wow. Ilya was not kidding. Dude was icey, and his eyes slid over Troy like he was mud on the pavement to be avoided.

"And you're Luca Haas," Shane continued, clapping the kid on the shoulder. "That backhand wrister of yours is nasty. Gave Miitka a run for his money in our series."

"I, uh, yeah, thank—thank you, Mr…Holl…Shane..?"

"Shane is fine," he repeated, the storm cloudy expression clearing. "If you don't mind, I'm gonna pair you up with Pike for the rest of the week. Ilya and I have to circulate between groups, so I wanted to make sure your skills were matched up with a good teacher. Hayd's the best. Hayd! C'mon, meet Luca, you're with him for group!"

Which…what the fuck? Troy watched Shane cart Luca off to meet the Metros and some of the other veterans, shocked by the glaring difference in treatment. Ilya sucked air through his teeth with a wince.

"Okay, it's worse than I thought."

"Worse?"

"Well."

"Roz? What did you do?"

"Last year was…a little complicated."

"I hate all of the words coming out of your mouth."

"You were being weird and a drag and I was…not so great, brain-wise…"

"Definitely not improving."

"I may have suggested he could fuck other guys when we were apart—"

"What?"

"And he may have assumed I suggested that because I wanted to hook up with you. I knew you were gay and I tell him everything like that, so—"

"Oh my god."

"I just…can't remember if we ever clarified that part? It was Christmas. And chaotic. And Pike maybe tried to hire someone to kill me."

"Ilya, you need to tell him I am in a very happy relationship."

"And that we never hooked up," Ilya agreed, "he may think we hooked up. Or that you tried. He makes very big jumps on his own."

"Jesus fucking Christ," he tossed his shoes into his stall just for something to do.

Scott Hunter ambled over with Ryan Price, smirking.

"Causing drama already, Rozanov?"

"Mm. No. That is Pike. Leaking my sex tape with my husband," he said loudly. It got enough attention that half the room chuckled and shook their heads.

"Fuck you Roz!" Hayden shouted at the same time Shane complained, "It was not a sex tape!"

"Might as well have been," Ilya grumbled.

Troy snorted and wisely added, "Suggesting the existence of an actual sex tape."

Ilya smirked like a goddamn criminal that had lured a victim into their trap.

"Troy you're supposed to be getting Shane to not hate you, not begging to watch us have sex."

"For fuck's sake, Roz," Scott complained with an eyeroll.

"I was not-!"

"Good to know some things don't actually change around here," Ryan interrupted with a grin. "You're with us I guess, Barrett."

He sighed and tried to relax a bit. "Sure, sounds great."

Troy did not manage to get Shane to hate him less that day. Or the next. Or the next. Shane seemed to be actively avoiding him. Maybe. Possibly. He talked to Scott and Ryan when he dropped in on their skate group. Pulled Ilya away for conversations, didn't join any group Troy was a part of but would chat with the others.

And his face. It did the thing. Went from neutral and relaxed to flat in seconds whenever he caught sight of Troy. The other coaches noticed. They kept it to themselves, but he could tell they noticed.

"Roz, what do I do? We're gonna be teammates and he hates my guts."

Ilya poured himself more coffee in their lounge and shrugged.

"No he doesn't."

"He won't talk to me. He won't look at me. And when he does, he looks like he wants me dead."

"That's just his face."

"Roz!"

"I told you! Ignore it."

"Marly!" They turned in tandem to see Shane brightly greeting Ilya's Boston teammate with an actual hug. Troy wasn't sure he'd seen Shane hug anyone but Hayden.

"Holly! I finally got the invite!"

"Blame Ilya, I put you on the list last year," Shane answered, clapping the behemoth hockey player's back. "So glad you could make it back up here. You can come out to the cottage for a couple days, right? Rose is demanding all the dirt—" Troy turned a despondent look to Ilya, whose face was scrunched up.

"Okay," Ilya put hands to his hips and sighed. "Just talk to him. Be direct."

"What? Why don't you-?"

"Ehm, no. He knows when he's being managed. Has to be you." He bobbled his head. "And maybe wait until he can't run away from you."

"Nice, Roz. Real nice."

"What? I'm just saying he is a lot faster than you."

So here Troy was, twenty minutes early to their first team practice. He'd missed optional skate for a nutrition meeting, and his head was reeling from that nonsense. Everybody else would be on break or coming in right on time. But he was determined to settle things with Shane before they had to get on the ice.

He jolted when Ilya and Shane came in, noisily bickering. Shane caught sight of him and dropped quiet, but Ilya kept going, giving some nonsense explanation of something while pushing Shane to his stall.

"…I have to go see Weibe," he smacked a kiss to Shane's cheek.

"I—"

"No. Warm up. Clear your head." He turned on his heel and winked at Troy. "Barrett."

"Captain."

Troy took a deep breath and put his phone up in his cubby. He'd thought about how to open this conversation for hours. Direct, Ilya said to be direct.

"Hollander."

He nodded back. "Barrett."

"So can we talk about why you don't like me?" Troy snapped. Then winced. Jesus, he sounded like a whiny bitch.

But it startled Shane enough to get his full attention and a bewildered expression.

"What?"

Troy sighed and geared up again.

"Look, Roz is probably the best friend I've ever had. And I'm with Harris. Very happy to be with Harris. So I don't get why you're icing me out like I'm some kinda homewrecker."

Shane Hollander stayed quiet, blinked at him, face completely unreadable to Troy. Who was getting a little panicked in the face of a hockey legend who was married to his best friend. He tossed his arms in a wide shrug.

"Well?"

Shane nodded and tossed his bag into his stall.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

He cleared his throat. "I didn't actually…I don't dislike you, I barely know you, I just…"

"You think I tried to hook up with Roz, right? I swear I did not!"

"No," Shane laughed, shaking his head again and swiping a hand through the air. "No, I know…I'm not exactly proud of it but…Look, I didn't have to explain this to Scott or Ryan, so I'm—"

Troy stayed quiet, waiting. This felt like a waiting situation.

"I was already out to some of my teammates, right? Even before the Fanmail thing. And I never really got to choose…They punished me for it. Even before they knew about Ilya. Like yeah, Ilya made it worse but they were never going to—" He paused and took a breath, making level eye contact with Troy now. "I did everything right. Everything. One slip. One change. One difference. And none of it mattered. A decade of me working my ass off didn't matter."

"Hollander—"

"And you?" Shane shook his head. "All the shit you pulled in Toronto, people know. They talk. You come here and…none of that matters. You're gay, you get to be out with your boyfriend, everybody cheers you on. Bully for you." He turned and tugged out his skates and pads. "Scott gets a stadium of applause, and Ryan gets kicked around from team to team like a goddamn rubber ball. Ilya has to claim fucking political asylum, and you get to stand up for yourself with a slap on the wrist…" He looked back over and dragged a hand through his hair, practically vibrating. "Maybe I'm just a little fucking sick of everybody acting like it's all equal."

"Damn."

Shane glared, eyes wet and cheeks flushed. "I'm supposed to be the fucking poster boy, the role model. Everybody else gets to lose their shit, but when I do it, well that just means I was bad the whole time. So yeah, I look at you and I get pissed off because if I had been half as good, I could have had anything I wanted, nobody would have looked twice. But that would mean I don't get Ilya. Easier means I don't have Ilya. And keeping Ilya meant we had to completely upend our lives, meanwhile it all just fell into your lap. So it's not personal, it's not you, it's everyone. I'm going to spend the rest of my life hating every prick that comes out and nothing happens. Because every time nothing happens, it gets easier for the next guy. Which, sure great, aweome for them, but fuck them okay? Because for the rest of our lives, Scott Hunter will get lauded as a hero, no one will remember your name, but Ilya and I will be the goddamn scandal forever. The gossip, the drama. We're either dirty and disgusting or characters in somebody else's fairy tale narrative. And trust me, it was not a fucking fairy tale. Us being together supercedes everything else we did, and I knew that. We both did. Day one, we knew. I almost lost him so many fucking times, I can't even count. And for what? To get death threats and bullshit from the League and my own team accusing me of cheating! When none of them fucking matter and have never mattered. I love Ilya and there's no goddamn point to any of this without him and everybody's decided to hang me for it. So, yeah, Barrett, I hate your fucking guts." Shane snapped, dropping to sit on his bench and gear up for practice.

Troy stood there, stunned, and processed all of that as quickly as he could. But it was a lot. In a daze, he took the few steps to sit next to him on the bench, staring straight ahead. His eyes were stinging and he batted at his cheeks. Tears had slipped without him noticing. Not a thing that happened often.

"Fuck, man."

Shane huffed through his nose, jerking the laces on his skates.

"I'll get over it," he muttered.

"That's just…I never thought about any of that."

"Well you don't have to. You had Weibe. And this weird team that seems to actually give a shit about you. And Ilya."

For getting to hang out with me, playing on my line.

"So did you."

"No, I was killing Ilya. I was trapping us in a fucking cage and it was killing him. What I had was a coach threatening my career and the guy who didn't double check a damn video before sharing it."

"I'm so—"

"Don't. Don't do that. I do not need your pity."

"Right."

"And please don't say anything to Ilya either," he grumbled. "Better he thinks I'm just being a jealous dickhead." He sighed and sat up. "He likes it when I'm a jealous dickhead."

Troy couldn't stop the snort that burst out of him. He couldn't control the giggles either. This was probably the most he'd ever heard Shane Hollander talk in his entire career, and he was cussing up a storm being mean, and shitty, and resentful. It was…god, it was fucking awesome.

Shane joined in, chuckling a little, which only made Troy laugh harder. Pretty soon they were both bent over their knees laughing so hard they were red in the face. It was so stupid, but Troy couldn't help it. Shane Hollander resented him, hated him for not being good enough at hockey so his coming out had been easier. The "next Gretzky," the guy who was on track to be a Hall of Famer, a multi-millionaire superstar ad model, was jealous of him. It was insane. Absolutely insane.

Shane sat up and scrubbed at his face, wiped his eyes, and gulped down breaths.

"I'm sorry, man, I'll chill out, I swear. It just—"

"No, don't even worry about it. I get it, I'll ignore it."

He breathed out, long and heavy. "Thanks."

Shane barely got the word out before Ilya was strolling back into the locker room, like he'd been waiting for them to have it out.

"Oh, are we best friends now?" Ilya asked snidely, as if he hadn't been angling for that the whole time.

"Nah," Shane answered coolly as he strapped on his shin guards, "I just sucked his dick."

Troy immediately burst into laughter, not even able to see Ilya's reaction.

"Moya lyubov—!" he complained.

"Give it a rest! You promised to run drills with me, hurry up, let's go!"

Chapter 2

Chapter Summary

Shane's POV leading up to Troy confronting him in the locker room.

Chapter Notes

I had time open up due to landing a job interview & felt compelled to write Shane's pov. It'll definitely stop here, but I think some very obvious facets of Shane's personality & background are being overlooked by Some in these comments. Apparently that needs a little spelling out.
And I like bitchy, mean, unreasonable Shane, so here's more of him.

(Also! Troy asked to be here and it was very brave & out of character for him, but he is fine! He has a new autistic buddy to commiserate with about high energy, extrovert boyfriends. He will be okay!)

Shane legitmately thought he was getting away with it. Truthfully, he didn't think Ilya or Troy had noticed. And in his defense, hockey players were usually pretty slow on the uptake. They just made assumptions and moved along. Shane had a reputation as being aloof, so avoiding Troy Barrett shouldn't have been a marked change in his behavior.

It had started the second Troy came out. Just a small nugget of a thought that Shane had no control over.

Fuck that guy.

Which Shane immediately squashed and chastised himself for. He'd already had this talk with himself because of Scott. It wasn't fair. Just because he'd heard rumors about shit Barrett did and said in Toronto, didn't mean he knew the whole story. Ryan was a good example of that. Fuck, he and Ilya were the best examples. But when he asked Ilya how the team reacted?

"Good, I think." He shrugged. "It's good group of guys. Weibe is…weirdly supportive. I think…it doesn't matter—"

They hadn't continued the conversation. Ilya had flipped it into flirting and sex, so Shane hadn't given it much thought until he got back home late that night. Just a blip.

Fuck that guy.

Getting outed so publicly, so…violently, right before they planned to come out on their own, was just another slap in the face. Shane was angry. Terrified, humiliated, violated, yes. But more than that, angry.

He was fucking sick of constantly repeating that it wasn't fair. He was sick of the excuses and apologies. And he wasn't even allowed to be mad. Yes he lied to his parents. He lied because he didn't know what to tell them yet and because they had no problem waltzing into his house whenever they felt like it! It made him sick to think how much more smoothly coming out to them could have gone if he'd had a plan, if he hadn't been forced to spring Ilya on his mother, if they'd been able to agree on the terms and the timeline and what they did and did not want other people to know. If Ilya had had any say in the matter. Fuck it hurt and his dad didn't do anything wrong, but why the fuck couldn't he just buy another charger?

And Hayden. Fucking Hayden. Yes, they had been too comfortable and too careless. Too open. But Shane's brain kept going back to the timing, to not checking around him, not checking the video. How was he supposed to be angry about an accident, though? When Hayden was so horrified and apologetic? It was just… The only reason his friendship with Hayden survived was because Ilya had already started his Canadian citizenship process. If it had been any different, if Ilya had been forced to return to Russia, and likely prison…No, Shane didn't want to think about it. It didn't happen, there was nothing to think about. They were fine and he had to find a way to let it go. But why did it have to always be so fucking difficult?

It was just a second of a thought. It barely registered. Troy Barrett's probably at his boyfriend's fucking apple orchard, no questions asked. Fuck that guy. He didn't even have a chance to process that before Farah was calling, Ilya was forcing him to eat, and his parents were walking in with dinner and a plan.

After their outing and explosive meetings with Crowell, Shane's feelings in Troy's direction didn't improve. Truthfully, he wasn't thinking much about Troy Barrett at all in the moment, he was focused on the fact that the Commissioner of the fucking League was trying to shut them up. Even after he and the Metros had already spent so much energy trying to keep Shane in the closet for whatever perceived personal profit. He was focused on the fact that Crowell was threatening Ilya, who could lose his visa if he lost work and have to go back to Russia, who Shane would choose every single time without hesitation.

But there was a vague thought afterward on the drive home. Minimal. That Crowell had barely paid any attention to Troy. Like he was just a footnote who wouldn't have even registered if Shane and Ilya weren't in the room. Maybe he wouldn't have even cared about Troy being officially out, but Shane and Ilya were steps too far. Troy didn't get benched or fined, not like they did. Just another average white guy getting the pass after doing the bare fucking minimum. He didn't commit the crime of "too many labels" by being mixed or an immigrant, so who cared, right? Sponsors were contacting Farah saying they were "disappointed" and regretfully had to cancel their contracts with Shane, but Troy Barrett barely breached a trending hashtage. Go fucking figure. 

Shane had hardly spoken to him, barely registered him all day. And still.

Fuck that guy.

At their wedding, Shane didn't remember seeing Troy. He met Harris Drover, the boyfriend, but he didn't remember any conversation. It had been a hectic day. He wasn't actively thinking about Troy Barrett. Then he was on his honeymoon, with his husband, deliriously happy. No, he wasn't thinking about anything back home.

Then came camp.

Shane wanted to believe all of that weirdness that had bubbled up had dissipated on its own. It was easing up with Scott, after all. But the second he saw Troy in that locker room, perfectly at ease, hearing people say Troy and Harris like it was a singular identity, Shane's insides boiled with rage. It wasn't jealousy, exactly. He had Ilya. He and Ilya were out and together, married and living together. That wasn't it. But he didn't have the words for the roiling waves of anger that seemed to hit him at random.

He couldn't help it. He wanted to help it. He didn't want it to be Troy, his husband's friend and linemate. What he wanted was to be normal and calm and happy to be with people who cared about and accepted him and Ilya without hesitation. And okay, maybe JJ's absence was a sore point. Maybe having the whole Centaurs team there cheerfully coaching, seamlessly intermingling with the other (queer) players like it was nothing, was a bit too much. Maybe seeing Troy and Wyatt Hayes interact and goof around like Toronto never happened scratched at something he couldn't reach. Maybe Coach Weibe dropping in to help set up lunch, pulling Troy aside to talk with his arm around his shoulders, laughing, tweaked something discordant in his brain. Maybe his stomach dipped and roiled and clenched tight in that same sick way it had when Ilya got picked first for the draft.

Fuck that guy.

So Shane did what he did best: ignored it. He stayed away from Troy, avoided being alone with him, just generally refused to be where he was. Again, he thought everyone would write it off as Shane Hollander Being Weird. They usually did anyway. It was easier. He didn't feel so nauseated if he didn't have to look at Troy.

Camp went smoothly, no problems. He and Ilya had two more amazing weeks at the cottage, their out of town friends coming and going. Shane didn't even think about Troy Barrett unless Ilya mentioned something he said in the group chat. He had uninterrupted down time with his husband, he was not thinking about some other gay guy.

He should have known Rose would call it out. They were on the deck, Svetlana had gone inside to freshen up, Cliff and Connors went into town for a beer run, and Ilya's phone started buzzing. He frowned.

"It's Troy. Be back," he kissed Shane's head and went to take the call. Shane's guts reflexively curled up at the mention of his name, jaw ticking.

"Shane?" Rose prompted. She had Anya's head in her lap, stroking the dog's ears.

He let his face go slack. "Yeah?"

"You okay?" He started to give some bland non-answer and she waved him off. "Let me rephrase, you look like you want to punch a puppy. What's going on? You and Ilya are booed up constantly, and I thought you said everything was fine with the new team."

"It is," he insisted, frowning at the phrase booed up, reaching for his mouth and looking at the water instead of his friend. "Everything's fine."

"Shane."

"I guess I just…I think I don't really like Troy?"

He looked over to see her frowning, head cocked.

"Have you talked to him much?"

He shook his head and took a moment, sorted his thoughts into piles from the heap he'd been neglecting. It took a few minutes. Luckily Rose had always been incredibly patient with his silences. Hayden and his mom filled those silences with more questions. Frustrating, but not helpful to dwell on comparisons.

"Remember that actress you were talking about? Kay-something?"

"Cadence, yeah sure."

"You said it pissed you off because her mom was in set design so she didn't have to do a bunch of stupid movies to get her big break. You said she was nice enough but it was hard to talk to her."

"Sure." She bobbled her head. "Happens all the time. I mean, I'm a hot white girl, I'm not exactly suffering, but it's pretty annoying to see somebody with half the experience and range to—oh. Right."

"Yeah…I think it's a little like that."

"You talk to Ilya about it?"

"No. No way. He already has enough to worry about without me being an idiot."

"Hon, he's gonna notice."

"Maybe but…maybe it'll just go away.

"Shane."

"I know."

"You can't just—"

"I get it!" he snapped, temper flaring up. She pulled a face and he scowled. "It's just not important, okay? Once training starts, it will be fine," he concluded with a nod.

Rose reached over and rubbed his forearm, he covered her hand with his.

"You can call me if it isn't, okay?"

He nodded. Anya fled their side, barking happily to greet Ilya.

"Landry, quit groping my husband."

"Never."

All thoughts of Troy were banished as Ilya climbed into Shane's lap and smacked Rose away, starting a scuffle that had Shane laughingly cussing at both of them.

He was not thinking about Troy Barrett. Especially not the night before their first practice as Ilya was railing into him and rocking what was supposed to be a very sturdy bedframe. They'd gone through three already and Shane was damn close to have a custom one built. He was hoping against hope that he would tire Ilya out enough that he wouldn't bring any of it up. He didn't want Ilya worrying about Shane being in a new locker room for the first time in a decade and how they should behave as a couple. He didn't want Ilya fretting over which coaches he'd get along with, if the other players would get too forward or be too starstruck to interact properly. He didn't want Ilya thinking about the logistics of Shane not being captain or first line. He didn't want Ilya whipping out some captainy pep talk in their bed. They'd gone over it and over it, and he was anticipating giving the same answers yet again to soothe Ilya's anxiety.

So when they were settled and cooling off, he was completely floored by the question Ilya did ask.

"You'll be nice to Troy tomorrow, yes?"

That had Shane sitting up, dislodging a complaining Ilya.

"What?"

"Ow, fuck, you heard me Hollander."

"What do you mean nice? I haven't been mean to Troy."

Ilya scoffed, rolling over to get a wipe and clean them off.

"Maybe not mean for everyone else, but mean for you."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

Ilya tossed the wipe and shrugged. "You didn't talk to him at all during camp. I noticed."

"You noticed." He nodded, leaning back into the pillows to watch him. Shane floundered. "I…I don't know maybe I didn't. So what?"

His brows winged up and Shane immediately sighed in defeat.

"Do you want to tell me?"

Shane shook his head.

"If it starts affecting the team…"

Shane nodded again.

"Okay moya lyubov, let's shower and change sheets. You'll feel better."

"Ilya…"

"No no's, up Hollander."

When they were back in bed, curled up together with Ilya comfortably weighing him down into the mattress, Shane resolved that he was going to deal with it. Whatever this was, it didn't need to be a thing, he'd just get over it and play hockey. That's what he was good at, and he wanted to make this work for Ilya. Playing on the same team was a once in a lifetime opportunity, he was not going to fuck it up by being a goddamn baby.

All of that got shot to shit the second they walked into the locker room.

For one, Troy was there alone. For another, Ilya abandoned him there like an asshole even though he knew there was an issue. Fucking hell.

He took four deep breaths and started changing clothes.

Gave a short greeting, expected silence. Felt the irritation creep up knowing Troy was looking at him. Just breathe, get your gear on, go warm up. Breathe, gear, warm up. Breathe gear, warm—

"…why you don't like me?"

Shane whipped his head up so fast he nearly cracked his neck. A thick lump formed in his throat, his belly swooped low, sending pinpricks skittering across his skin. Confrontation. Panic. Breathe.

"What?"

It took him a second to catch up. But what he gathered was that Troy thought Shane thought he was trying to sleep with Ilya? Or had? Like maybe for a second during their stupid other guys fight but that was just Shane trying to figure out what the fuck Ilya was even talking about. He tossed his bag into the stall.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

He took another breath and tried to decide where to start. An apology, probably, would be his mother's answer. But fuck that, he hadn't actually done anything. Maybe it was better to start at the beginning. Scott was the beginning.

He cleared his throat. "I didn't actually…I don't dislike you, I barely know you, I just…"

Troy, practically squeaking, interrupted to conclude that yeah he did think Shane thought he was trying to fuck his husband. Slight derail, get back on track.

"No, I know…I'm not exactly proud of it but…Look, I didn't have to explain this to Scott or Ryan, so I'm—"

Troy stayed quiet. He didn't push back. Or argue. He didn't try to correct. He just…stood there.

And it was like every bolt holding Shane's brain together just snapped and everything tumbled out. He couldn't stop it. He could barely keep up with what he was saying. It was just all the unfiltered bullshit that had been running through his head on repeat for nearly a year. It just swelled up in him and he let it pour out. On Troy. Silent, now crying, Troy who looked so stunned a soft touch could knock him over.

Shane knew it was Bad. He knew letting it all spew out was Wrong. Incorrect. He'd been censured enough as a kid to know better. To do better. He was supposed to hold it together, to smooth everything over, but he couldn't because Troy Fucking Barrett was standing there demanding to know why The Shane Hollander didn't like him when it was Shane who wanted to knock his teeth in. Shane wanted to claw and kick and beat on this guy he didn't even know because The Shane Hollander was too good at hockey to be Asian and different and gay, and Shane had fucked things up for everyone, Ilya included.

But Troy Barrett got to stand there in shock like it never even crossed his mind, he got to be stunned by the revelation of Shane's decades-long reality.

"So yeah, Barrett, I hate your fucking guts."

He threw himself down petulantly, grabbing his skates and pissed at himself because his nervous system was already calming down. He'd finally nudged the tap and let the steam out, and it was…soothing. He was expecting the usual. The overly saccharine, we're in this together I've got your back bullshit everybody gave. The superficial pep talk to smooth things over and course correct so they didn't have to talk or sit in it or—

"Fuck, man."

Shane nearly sobbed. He huffed a laugh through his nose instead. He focused on lacing.

"I'll get over it."

That was true. The anger wasn't gone. He wasn't sure it would be. But…it didn't feel as sharp right then, and Troy was still there. Positive progress.

"That's just…I never thought about any of that."

No shit.

"Well you don't have to. You had Weibe. And this weird team that seems to actually give a shit about you. And Ilya."

There was a short pause and Shane braced himself.

"So did you."

And wasn't that a fucking joke? Of course he had Ilya, but Ilya didn't have Shane. Shane had been laser-focused on barreling through their life, bound and determined to keep things the same no matter what. All the while choking the life out of the person he loved more than anything. Not intentionally. Never intentionally. But if Ilya had done something to himself…Shane didn't even want to think about it.

"No, I was killing Ilya. I was trapping us in a fucking cage and it was killing him. What I had was a coach threatening my career and the guy who didn't double check a damn video before sharing it."

"I'm so—"

"Don't. Don't do that. I do not need your pity."

"Right."

"And please don't say anything to Ilya either," he grumbled. "Better he thinks I'm just being a jealous dickhead." He sighed and sat up. "He likes it when I'm a jealous dickhead."

He really did. They'd been getting off on it in Spain. A lot. Ilya deserved a husband crashing out over a romantic threat from his linemate. Not whatever dickish bullshit was going on with Shane.

But then Troy started laughing, and Shane caught himself accidentally laughing too. Next thing he knew, they were hysterical and unable to catch their breath, just fucking laughing. It purged whatever rot was left in his gut, eased the ache in his chest that seemed to grow whenever he spent too much time away from Ilya. He sat up, gulping down air and scrubbed at his face which was hot and wet with tears now.

This was the actual moment for an apology. A cue he'd gladly accept.

"I'm sorry, man, I'll chill out, I swear. It just—"

Troy was shaking his head. "No, don't even worry about it. I get it, I'll ignore it."

He breathed out, long and heavy. That was…that was more than anyone had done for him in awhile. People didn't just let him sit and stew on things and be frustrated. Shane wasn't allowed to be frustrated, he had to perform, he had goals to meet, expectations to fulfill. Nobody just ignored Shane's bad behavior and allowed it to happen. Except Ilya. Ilya was always the exception.

"Thanks."

Shane barely got the word out before Ilya was strolling back into the locker room, like he'd been waiting for them to have it out.

"Oh, are we best friends now?" Ilya asked snidely. Shane grinned because that was Ilya's anxious voice. He was actually worried. He'd really expected Shane to just go on being a dick to Troy and he'd fully intended to allow it. It physically hurt him how much he loved that man.

"Nah," Shane answered coolly as he strapped on his shin guards, "I just sucked his dick."

Troy immediately burst into laughter. Shane turned his head to see Ilya gaping at him, obviously torn between egging him on and being offended. Shane laughed, he couldn't help it. Fuck, it felt like he'd just shed a hundred pounds off his back.

"Moya lyubov—!" Ilya complained. But his eyes were bright. He was happy, hopeful. It had taken Shane a year to learn the difference. He clicked his tongue.

"Give it a rest! You promised to run drills with me, hurry up, let's go!"

Chapter End Notes

Side note: Shane thinks everybody is worse at hockey than him, it is his truth. That doesn't mean other people (Troy) are not good at hockey, that means Shane is an egotistical nightmare with the skills & discipline to support it. Thank you for your time 🙏