Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

M/M, Other

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Brad Hammersmith/Sebbin

Characters:

Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Sebbin (Heated Rivalry), Brad Hammersmith, Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Yuna Hollander

Additional Tags:

POV Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, POV Shane Hollander, No Smut, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack, No Angst, No Beta We Live like Ilya, Humor, Dumb Hockey Boys, Soft Hockey Boys, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Friendship/Love, Sebbin is Obsessed With Brad Hammersmith, Press and Tabloids, Traditional Media, Self-Indulgent

Language:

English

Series:

Part 22 of Just Game Changer things that my brain needs to write, Part 14 of Hammer/Sebbin is my close personal headcanon

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-15 Words: 2,228 Chapters: 1/1

So What Was The Media Strategy? No, Seriously.

Summary

“A lot of people were surprised by the video of Rozanov and Hollander last season, especially given the distraction it created around the playoffs. What was the reaction in the Bears locker room?”

Or, Seb and Marly are left unsupervised at a post-game Bears press conference, and share their unfiltered thoughts.

POV Cliff Marlow, set during the start of the 2021 season.

Notes

Super self-indulgent lol, I wanted to practice writing Seb doing media for the retirement press conference fic I have in mind, and you know I love me some Marly, so let's give Marlow POV some love (and some Shane POV). Enjoy!

P.S. Can be read by itself, but for more Seb/Hammer context, see Hammer/Sebbin is my close personal headcanon.

“A lot of people were surprised by the video of Rozanov and Hollander last season, especially given the distraction it created around the playoffs. What was the reaction in the Bears locker room?”

Seb leaned back in his chair, entirely too comfortable for someone who didn’t do media often, and for good reason. He’d been picked tonight because he’d played like his ass was on fire, and Marly hoped Seb wouldn’t accidentally out himself today. “We knew Rozy had pull,” Seb said easily, “but Hollander’s objectively a babe, so mostly the locker room reaction was that Rozy’s apparently got way better game than we thought.” Marly shrugged in agreement, because, well, that was true, and saw some of the reporters typing furiously on their phones.

“It was definitely more of a holy shit, Roz actually pulled Shane Hollander, kind of reaction.” Marly rolled his shoulders, tugging absently at his suit jacket. The thing was a little tight from start-of-season bulk, but it’d fit perfectly in a month and timing it right was a science. “I mean, we figured good boy Hollander, who’s won like a million trophies and is annoyingly good at hockey, would tell Roz to fuck off, but Roz totally won the jackpot.”

Marly and Seb had given them the soundbite they wanted, so why did that reporter near the front snort? Wait, did these people think they were insulting Roz?

“Not that Rozy isn’t a big catch,” Seb clarified for the reporter because apparently he had the same thought. The Bears loved Roz like a brother, even if he’d run off to fucking Ottawa. “Hollander is lucky to have him, and Roz is the absolute best.”

“And they’re so fucking cute together,” Marly said into the brief silence, resting his elbows on the table, “you look back at how well Roz took care of us when he was captain, and imagine how much more he does for his husband.” The Bears had all seen firsthand how insane Roz got for Hollander, but it was probably not a good idea to tell the media anything about that.

Marly wanted a partner so badly. He had always felt so single around Seb and Hammer, and Viggy and Arya, and now Roz and Hollander. Carmy was always in a relationship, so Connors and Marly were the only single ones left now. A camera flashed in Marly’s face, and he grimaced.

Marly couldn’t see who was asking the question. “Some fans felt the video crossed a line. What would you say to that?”

Seb deferred to Marly, who had a lot more opinions on the video itself. “Yeah, it crossed a line,” Marly said, and saw some reporters sit up straight, “posting a vertical FanMail video is so fucking embarrassing for Pike, not to mention the video quality was total shit. Is Montreal not paying him enough for a video camera?”

A few reporters laughed despite themselves, but two reporters in the middle row, who Marly knew loved to dig up shit, exchanged glances, and one of them tried again. What more did they want from Seb and Marly? “There are also questions about professionalism,” the brunette said carefully, “some people think the attention around the relationship has become bigger than hockey.” Ugh, holier-than-thou journalists were the fucking worst.

“I mean, isn’t the attention kind of your fault?” Seb looked genuinely confused. “I mean, they’re a boring old married couple now, so maybe you should focus on the players who’re still fucking around.” Marly loved Seb like they were two adjacent blades of grass, because it was like Seb had plucked the thought right out of Marly’s brain.

“In contrast with other players, Roz and Hollander feel pretty professional to me, honestly,” Marly added, throwing his hands up in exasperation, because didn’t any of them learn to ask good questions during their expensive journalism degrees? “Honestly, if I were them, I’d kiss my husband every time he scored a goal.”

“Nuh uh,” Seb shook his head and sighed, probably imagining eating face with Hammer mid ice, and the brunette reporter perked up like Seb was going to say something she wanted. Marly knew it would be something neither of them was hoping for. “Those two score too many goals for that. They’d compete over the kissing, and that’s a whole mess no one wants to deal with.”

The brunette’s blonde dickhead friend seemed a little happy to jump into the fray. “So would you agree having a couple on the same team adds a level of emotional complexity that hasn’t traditionally existed in the MLH?”

Marly was pissed enough to forget his media training. “Are you saying male hockey players cannot do what the women's hockey teams can do? That’s sexist.” Marly knew what that meant because Hammer’s sister Chelsea, with a master's in gender studies, had explained it to him.

The asshole spluttered. “No, that’s not what I—” Why did the management keep hiring these fuckass interns who didn’t know when to stop a press conference?

“That does sound kind of sexist,” Seb said thoughtfully, but then Seb always said things thoughtfully, even if they weren’t thought out, and it ended up lending a degree of seriousness to things that should never have been taken seriously, but this wasn’t one of those things. “You’re always telling the women they can’t play like us, and now you’re telling us that we can’t play like women?”

“Exactly,” Marly agreed, ”at the end of the day, we’re all fucking hockey players.”

Seb grinned meanly like the six-foot-five defenseman he was. “Hell yeah, we are.”

Marly spotted the intern being held up by someone who Marly figured was a friend of one of the two reporters, likely to explain directions the friend didn’t need. He gestured to the boy, who looked like he wasn’t even of drinking age, to finish this bullshit, but the vultures weren’t done. “Hollander and Rozanov are, of course, a situation isolated to the Centaurs at this point. Would the Bears ever allow a similar situation in your locker room?”

Seb hadn’t said a single weird thing all conference, some sort of record for the man. “Having married guys on a team is probably good for team chemistry. We should try it, huh, Hammy?” Marly had spoken too soon.

Hammer, slumped against a wall on the other end of the room, was emptying a bag of pretzels into his mouth, and froze when the cameras panned to him. He clearly hadn’t heard a single bit of the last ten minutes, but his default setting was to agree with Seb, so Hammer nodded. “Sure, Seb.”

Before the media could ask any more follow-up questions, the shaky intern finally stepped out in front of Marly and Seb. “That’s all for today, folks. Thank you for coming.”

𓅢 𓅢 𓅢

𓅢 𓅢 𓅢

𓅢 𓅢 𓅢

The call came in far too early for anything good.

Shane was sitting up in bed on their off day, reading and working through a post-workout smoothie that Ilya had already called gross. They were both exhausted from winning their home game the previous night and didn’t have to be in for practice until the afternoon, so Ilya was snuggled into Shane’s hip, a leg thrown over his thighs, not sleepy enough to nap, but also not awake enough to get out of bed. He kept trying to sneak a hand down Shane’s sweats.

Shane answered the phone, swatting away the hand at his waist, and ignored a pouting Ilya. “Good morning, Mom.”

“Morning, Shane,” Yuna sounded tired, “Good game last night.” Uh oh.

“Is it Yuna?” Ilya tilted his face to look up at Shane. “Hi, Yuna! Is David rescheduling game night?” he yelled, making Shane grimace and pull the phone down from his ear to put it on speaker.

Ilya had gotten invested in board game nights with Shane’s dad and his friends over the last two years when Shane was in Montreal, but they wouldn’t let Shane or Yuna join, calling them too competitive. Shane could be chill if he tried, but he didn’t care about games that weren’t hockey, so he let it go.

“No, no, everything’s set for game night, and David wanted me to remind you to bring dessert,” Yuna said, her voice tinny on speaker, “but I actually called because there’s a video you’re both getting tagged on.”

Not fucking again. Shane’s head thudded back against the headboard. “Please tell me there isn’t a sex tape of us floating around.”

“Before I continue,” Yuna paused a little and clarified, “is there a sex tape I should be worried about?”

“Of course not, Mom.” Thank fucking god it wasn’t that. Shane wasn’t prepared for another scandal to rock their lives.

From somewhere beside Shane, Ilya’s voice drifted in, entirely unhelpful. “Not for no trying.”

“It’s a lack of trying,” Shane turned his head so sharply it could’ve caused an injury if he wasn’t careful, “and shut up, Ilya.”

“Good, good. That’s good to know,” Yuna exhaled through her nose. ”It’s not a video of the two of you anyway.” Why were they getting tagged in it then?

“Thank God,” Shane said, sinking back into the mattress like his body stopped working. “So what is it?” Ilya was already unlocking his phone and scrolling through his notifications, but he didn’t seem to have found the video yet. Shane didn’t want to look anyway.

“Well,” Yuna said carefully, “you are in the news again, but it’s from a Bears press conference after their game yesterday involving Marly and Seb.”

“Oh, oh, oh,” Ilya said, having found the right post, gleefully watching whatever video it was. Shane hoped the Bears hadn’t alluded to their sex lives, as open as they seemed to be when they talked about anyone’s sex lives.

“Oh, what?” Shane sat up straight again when Ilya chuckled, “Oh, what, Ilya? Mom?”

“Well, the two of them said several interesting things,” Yuna informed Shane, “and I was wondering if Ilya had some insight into their media strategy so we can keep some statements on the back burner.”

“I do not think there was a strategy, Yuna,” Ilya said, extremely amused, “but they did say so many nice things.”

Shane stared at the ceiling. “We’re getting tagged in nice things?”

Ilya shoved his phone under Shane’s nose, grabbing Shane’s phone to talk to Yuna about the dessert he was bringing later. Shane started to watch the video and made a sound that could have been a laugh when he got to the part where Seb called Shane objectively a babe.

“Marly suggested players should kiss their husbands after scoring goals,” Yuna continued, still on speaker, having finished speaking to Ilya, “Seb said he thought you two shouldn’t kiss after goals because you would get too competitive, and they called a reporter sexist for saying partners on the same team caused complexity.”

“They also called us a cute couple,” Roz awwed, and Shane hated that it was kind of sweet, actually. “It all sounded very much like them, but I do not understand why that reporter is sexist.”

Shane’s voice sharpened through the panic coursing through him. “That’s what you didn’t understand about this?”

“Shane.” Yuna cut through him again. “Ilya, they called it sexist because by saying partners on the same team was a distraction, they thought the press was telling them they couldn’t play as well as the women who play with their partners.”

Ilya pursed his lips in thought. “I see.”

“Especially since the press usually implies that the women can’t play as well as the men. Wait, did Seb propose to Hammer?” Shane looked at Ilya, unable to believe his eyes, “and Hammer said sure?”

“Eh, is not so real, Seb is a big romantic, he will propose properly later,” Ilya flapped a hand dismissively, “and Hammer probably did not even listen to the conference, he says yes as long as he hears Seb’s voice. Did you see what Marly said about Pike?” Ilya was texting his Bears group chat, typing a lot of words like someone who was congratulating them rather than criticising.

“Why did they have to insult Hayden? Did you put them up to this?” Shane shoved Ilya off his lap.

Ilya rolled his eyes, not taking them off the phone’s keyboard as he sat up. “Yes, I planned everything, all so that they can say nice things about us and bad things about Pike.”

“I’ll talk to you once you talk to Marly and Seb, Ilya,” Yuna said, because clearly, there was no media plan for her to support. “And it does seem unlikely that we’ll need to make a statement, so let’s just talk later today.”

“Bye, Mom,” Shane dropped back onto the bed fully and rolled over next to Ilya.

“Bye, Yuna!” Ilya started the compilation video of the press conference again and rewound multiple times to hear Seb call Shane a babe, then abruptly stopped, “No, no, no, Seb called us a boring old married couple, Shane,” Ilya whined like the big baby he was, a baby who Shane loved more than he loved hockey, “I am not boring, and this is ruining my reputation. We have to release a sex tape!”

It was Shane’s turn to hide in Ilya’s hip. He would much rather be a boring old married couple.