Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Scott Hunter & Ilya Rozanov, Kip Grady/Scott Hunter, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Ilya Rozanov, Kip Grady, Shane Hollander, Carter Vaughn, New York Admirals Team Ensemble (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

5+1 Things, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Ilya Rozanov is a Menace, Scott Hunter Needs a Hug (Game Changers), Ilya Rozanov Rage Baits, The Kingfisher (Game Changers)

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-10 Words: 4,705 Chapters: 1/1

Let me tell you who I am (I’m your biggest fan)

Summary

All in all, it might be annoying and agitating but Rozanov knows not to take it too far. He will never go out of his way to make Scott’s life miserable. It’s all in good fun, mostly private, nothing to lose any sleep over. Until Scott makes the mistake of saying yes to a series of press events in which newly graduated sports journalists get a chance to write a piece about the MLH.

Five times Scott gets harassed by a brand-new reporter and one time he tries to get him back.

Notes

It is no secret that Scott Hunter is not a rookie by any means. There are a ton of records set in his name, he has worn the ‘C’ on his jersey for years. His jersey number is one of the biggest in the hockey world and he knows that. Most of his teammates he started out with have already retired - some because of an injury, others because they decided to settle down. And in all honesty, Scott has thought about it as well. To finally take the chance of leading a relatively calm life with his husband instead of having to miss each other for most of the year. However, there is one factor too important to ignore. One that drives him to push even harder every single day and withholds him from being able to peacefully retire.

Ilya Rozanov calling him old.

When he first told Kip about it, he had to endure fifteen minutes of laughter. That was because Elena had been on speaker without Scott knowing - so he had two people accusing him of being petty. Later that night Kip made sure to tell him that even though it was funny, he was glad such a small thing still fuelled Scott’s passion for the sport.

But for Scott it isn’t a ‘small thing’. Ever since the first game they played against each other, Rozanov has been asking him about his reaction to fire. Back when the guy could barely hold a conversation in English, he miraculously knew how to pronounce dinosaur names that aren’t even in the American Museum of Natural History. There is an Instagram account that posts historical paintings and every day Rozanov tags Scott with ‘did u pose for this?’.

It’s not as if the chirps and comments are as bad as the ones Scott gets from others. He has heard enough slurs to become desensitised to them, although it stings that they’re used by people he once thought of as friends. So he really shouldn’t be complaining too much about a few age related comments. Except Rozanov is only a couple years younger. Which makes it worse, because there isn’t even that big of a gap between them. But every time he tries to tell Rozanov that, he gets a smug smile in return for falling into the trap and yet another question about witnessing a prehistoric event.

All in all, it might be annoying and agitating but Rozanov knows not to take it too far. He will never go out of his way to make Scott’s life miserable. It’s all in good fun, mostly private, nothing to lose any sleep over. Until Scott makes the mistake of saying yes to a series of press events in which newly graduated sports journalists get a chance to write a piece about the MLH.

1.
The Admirals win their game against Carolina with 6-2, meaning their losing streak is broken. Scott skates right into Carter’s arms and bonks their helmets together with a big grin. “Dude, we still have a chance for the play-offs,” Carter laughs whilst dragging him along to celebrate with the others. They skate a few laps to get the crowd cheer even louder before they leave the ice. Winning after an unfortunate week of three losses feels good. Doing so in their own rink, against their current biggest rival, feels amazing. In the locker room Tommy’s name gets chanted until he is sent off to handle the press, the same time as Scott gets whisked away for his own press event. They share a knowing look and part ways.

Instead of a hallway filled with reporters, Scott finds himself standing in a small conference room. About twenty faces he has never seen before are watching him with a mix of anxiety and eagerness. Christina passes a microphone to one of them and then goes to stand in the back with her camera. Scott grins the entire time. He can’t even get annoyed by the amount of repeated questions - answering them the same with different wording. There are a few stutters and shaking voices, which he waits patiently for to finish their sentences. The confidence grows as time passes and near the end some questions have him actually think about his answer.

With five minutes left, the microphone gets passed to a man with a comically large moustache and a pair of dark sunglasses. He clears his throat and stands up from his seat. “Mister Hunter, you are oldest player in the league,” the man speaks into the microphone. Scott’s brain almost turns off due to the shock of hearing the Russian accent. His mouth falls open, eyebrows drawn together. Just as he tries to convince himself he’s imagining things, the accent proves the opposite. “You are pushing 50. How does it feel to see younger, faster and more flexible rookies join the league?”

Everyone in the room is waiting for an answer. They all stare at Scott with big eyes, ready to type out the words he is about to say. “I am 32,” he manages to get out instead, voice cracking in confusion. “What the fuck, Rozanov? What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game to play in like two hours?”

A silence falls over the room. Rozanov’s fake moustache chooses that exact moment to let go, falling straight onto the floor. “I am not him. He is way too handsome and sexy to be boring reporter, obviously. Busy preparing to actually score goals, unlike dinosaur on skates tonight,” he says. His fingers reach to his upper lip and freeze when they are met with bare skin. Slowly he puts his foot forwards, covers the fake moustache and drags it back. Rozanov even goes so far as to pick it up again and tries to stick it in place. When it doesn’t stick, he just scrunches his nose and pouts to keep the fake moustache from falling down.

The entire time Scott can only stare in bewilderment. Christina coughs once and snaps him back with that. “I scored as well? Twice?” It comes out as a question rather than a retort. Wanting to regain some composure, he takes a deep breath. There is still a room full of people waiting for him to answer the question. “Uh, it feels great to see rookies join the league. It always- okay sorry, is he even allowed in here?”

An hour later Scott is at the Kingfisher. Most of his teammates are there as well, spread out over a couple booths. He smiles at Kip taking the seat next to him. “And you’re one hundred percent sure that it was actually Rozanov?” Kip asks, putting two beers on the table. “Wasn’t it a friend of his or something? Because Eric said the Centaurs just posted their player arrivals in Philadelphia and Rozanov is there.”

”That’s impossible,” Scott scoffs, taking his phone out of his pocket to open up Instagram. “He can’t be, it’s like a two hour drive. An hour and 45 minutes at best.” The Centaurs account pops up as the most recent post on his timeline. Just like Eric said, on the very first slide, Ilya Rozanov’s wide grin is mockingly staring back at him through the screen. A cold chill goes through Scott’s body and drains the colour out of his face. He checks the date it was posted five times to make sure it’s marked as today.

During the next three days that same grin haunts his thoughts and dreams. At one point he genuinely starts doubting himself, thinking maybe it really was a set up. Eventually he decides to just let it go, wanting to keep his sanity. Then, a week later, the Admirals go against the Centaurs and he is standing in front of Rozanov for the face-off. “What, no questions about the ice age?” Scott asks whilst waiting for the puck drop. Rozanov frowns at him. “Why would I ask that? We are playing hockey, Hunter, keep up,” he says, shaking his head. “Questions are for press conference. Maybe try to answer them this time, yes?” With that, he wins the face-off and skates away with the puck. It takes Scott half a second to go after him - yelling out ‘I knew it!’.

2.
”It’s lovely to have you here with us, Scott. Before we dive into this wonderful organisation you’re working with, please tell us how you feel after scoring the game winning goal that qualified the Admirals for the play-offs. You played an amazing game last night.”

About seven cameras are pointing at Scott. He tries to sit still, hands clamped on his knees under the table. Even after so many years of public speaking he has to calm himself down internally. Todd catches his eye and nods at him, letting him know everything is fine. “Yeah, I mean it feels great. We had a few rough games that really put things into perspective. So we studied those and corrected what went wrong, we played hard but fair. I’m not sure about ‘game winning goal’, though,” he laughs. Slowly he feels the nerves calm down a bit. “Andersson is the reason we won for sure. If it wasn’t for him in that goal, I don’t know where we would be right now.”

The two morning show hosts laugh along with him. One of them introduces the organisation, reading the teleprompter flawlessly. Then a crew member lets them know a clip is rolling - meaning they have a thirty second break. Scott takes that as a chance to finally drink some water. Meanwhile people are rushed onto set and get instructed to form a line. Todd had informed him that a part of the segment would be answering questions like in the press events. He had gotten the questions yesterday evening in preparation, along with some suggested answers. It would take no more than five minutes.

Someone behind the cameras counts down and announces they’re live again. “To start it off, here we have Celine Doucet with the first question,” one of the hosts says. In front of the line stands a young woman holding a microphone. “Hi, good morning. Last night we saw a few of the players try out some new plays and swap positions. Is this a one time thing, or are there any plans to keep these positions in the long run?”

After Celine there are three others that quickly rattle off their questions. Scott tries his best to shorten his answers without dismissing anything so they stay on schedule. The second to last person thanks him and walks away, making place for the man behind them to step forwards.

“Hello. I would like to know if Scott Hunter is worried his husband will leave him after hip replacement surgery. Maybe for someone younger, who is born after Pangea.”

Laughter echoes throughout the studio. Both hosts giggling at the wink Rozanov gives them after lifting up his sunglasses. This time he has a blond moustache that is a bit crooked. He turns his head to Scott, who looks as if he’s on the verge of storming out. “Because you’re old,” Rozanov clarifies.

“How did he even get in here?!” Scott sounds exasperated.

The clip goes viral on every form of social media within half an hour. Carter calls him with a strained voice, clearly holding back laughter, to check if everything is alright. When Scott tells him yes, he immediately starts wheezing. The Admirals group chat makes it clear they have his back. Mostly because there are a few teammates older than him and took some offense.

At home Kip takes him in his arms and lies down on the couch with him. He presses kisses to the top of his head with a smile. Scott takes his hand and intertwines their fingers. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Kip says. “I bet the hip surgery will be a lot less painful. You’re gonna be the most flexible resident of the care home.”

Scott groans, grabs a throw pillow and smacks his husband with it. He presses his face against Kip’s chest so his smile is hidden.

3.
Seeing one missed call on his phone after morning practice isn’t out of the ordinary for Scott. The fact that it’s from Shane Hollander, however, is. There are no text messages from him either, just a single call without a voicemail. It’s not enough to set off any alarm bells in his head. It could be about the hockey camps, though they always either texted or e-mailed regarding those. He presses the call button whilst walking to his car.

“Hey, Hunter,” Hollander greets him. “Sorry for the call. I meant to send a text as well but I completely forgot.” Scott frowns at that, unlocks his car in the meanwhile and dumps his bag in the backseat. “It’s fine. You alright? Did something happen?” He asks as he tries to close the car door with the least amount of sound possible. On the other line Hollander sighs, carrying exhaustion in his voice. “Yeah, I’m good. Just wanted to let you know we aren’t coming tomorrow night. Ilya had the genius idea of trying out figure skating jumps during practice and fell really fucking hard. Probably just a bruised rib, but we’re at the hospital.”

The sun breaks through the clouds right at that moment. A flock of birds fly by above, enjoying the light breeze. “Oh no,” Scott says with the biggest smile, “that’s awful. To be honest, I completely forgot about the Kingfisher plans, so no worries. I’ll let Kip know. Tell Rozanov to be careful for once and let me know when you guys want to plan something else.” To his credit, he keeps the tone of his voice completely neutral instead of letting the grin seep through. ”Think if I tell him you said that, he’ll be even worse. But I’ll let you know when we’re in New York next time! Good luck tonight, see you,” Hollander replies. With a ‘goodbye’ from both of them they hang up at the same time.

From the rink all the way home, Scott sings along with the radio. He makes a quick stop to get some flowers halfway through, which he presents to Kip accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. “I love you so much,” he tells him. Kip drags him closer to wrap his arms around him and kisses him deeply as an answer. Only when they both run out of breath he pulls away a bit. “Are you that excited to beat New Jersey tonight?” Kip laughs. He cradles Scott’s face in both of his hands and presses another kiss on his lips. “Yes. I love you. Just having a really good day,” Scott grins back.

With Rozanov injured there would be no chance of him joining the press event tonight. Scott rides the high of that thought throughout the entire day. His speech before they get onto the ice is loud and motivating, he plays hard and calculated, they win without any complications. Carter smacks his shoulder with a beaming grin. “So you’re getting us that cup again, right?” The entire team surrounds them and pushes each other around. Scott can only laugh and celebrate with them. Once again the locker room is chanting - this time yelling out his name.

Christina meets him in the hallway after his shower and change of clothes. “I double checked the list this time. Centaurs shared that Rozanov is sitting out for two weeks, but Harris told me he’s actually at home,” she tells him as they walk to the press room. Before he has a chance to answer, he’s pushed into the room and stands in front of yet another twenty new faces. “Uh- hello. Oh, thanks,” he says and takes the microphone handed to him. “Alright. I hope you all had a good time watching the game. If it looked as fun as it was to play, you must have had a blast.” There is laughter and a few cheers. “First I’d like to thank you for being here. Sports journalism is something that is so important for the MLH. Unfortunately, it’s still complicated to find the right place as either a journalist or reporter within the sports sector - but that’s why we’re here.”

Scott dives deeper into the questions this time. He answers the follow-ups, explains his thoughts and jokes around a bit. The microphone gets passed to a tall man with a tablet in his hand. “My friend couldn’t be here today, but he has a question for a school project,” he explains and puts the microphone in front of the tablet’s speakers.

For a second Scott is thrown off. These are all graduates. He recognises the voice as well, but cant seem to place it. Then the ‘friend’ appears on screen and someone might as well smack Scott down with a hockey stick. “Hello. I have question for my school project,” Rozanov says. “If you had to choose between dilophosaurus and brachiosaurus, which one would you rather fu-“

The man holding the tablet looks down at the now black screen. “Oh fuck, I forgot to charge it,” he mumbles. Scott is about to send him away when it clicks.

“Are you kidd- wait, Troy? Is that you with a fucking wig?”

4.
They lose against Washington and are out of the play-offs. Even though it’s disappointing, a blanket of relief wraps itself around Scott. This year has been harsh for the Admirals and the fact that they even made it to the play-offs is an accomplishment of itself. He makes sure to tell the rookies what great job they have done, knowing they take the loss the hardest.

“Everyone is expected at the Kingfisher on Friday. I don’t want to hear any excuses. Bring your partners, your family. Maybe leave your kids with a babysitter. We’re celebrating this year, cup or not.” Loud laughter and whistling have Scott smiling again. “And of course we’re crashing Tommy’s place to watch the finals in a few weeks. Again, thank you for such an amazing season and for giving everything. Next year we’ll bring that cup home a second time, yeah?!” The locker room erupts in cheers. Scott gets bodied by everyone and has to push his way out, grinning from ear to ear. They take their loss with their heads held high. It helps that he has been here before as captain - he knows how to handle rage to sadness, turn both of them into motivation for next season.

Since they’re on the road and the organisation is based in New York City, there is no press event to attend for Scott. Coach Murdock breaks the unfortunate news that he does have to talk to the reporters in the hallway. This he can do.

“Hunter! Hunter, what happened tonight?” “How are you feeling?” “Was it a mistake to swap out Wagner in the second period?” “Scott, tell us what’s on your mind!”

Microphones are being held in front of him, bumping against each other. Scott takes a deep breath. “Yeah, hi. I feel pretty good, we played really well today. It’s a shame that we’re out, of course, but I’m incredibly proud of the team. Especially with the start we’ve had this season,” he says with a genuine smile. “So I can’t be too upset. Washington did great, they’ve been on a roll recently. Of course I’d wish that the roles were reversed but if we had to lose to anyone, I’m glad it’s them.”

Even more questions are thrown at him. Some reporters pull away their microphones, hurrying to another player. More take their place immediately. One in particular wrestles his way to the front and nearly trips over someone’s foot. It’s a taller man with a dark moustache and tinted glasses.

“Are you serious?” Scott asks, voice dropping into something worse than annoyance. He stares at the man with a scowl on his face. “Nice try, Rozanov, but I’m not doing this today. I don’t care about whatever it is that you want to ask me. You can fuck off, it’s not funny anymore. It’s fucking low of you to pull this shit in front of cameras after I lost. Just walk away, alright? Unbelievable.”

A cough behind him makes him freeze on the spot. His eyes close, not daring to open them for another five seconds. He slowly turns around and feels his stomach sinking. Ilya Rozanov is standing there with a huge fake moustache. In one of his hands he is holding a tiny mic - the one Christina always uses. “Now why are you harassing poor hockey reporter? Did you not get e-mail about media collab?”

The worst part about the entire situation is that Scott actually did read the e-mail. He just completely forgot about it. Christina sent it to him a few days ago, explaining that the Centaurs and Admirals would do a video together to boost their PR. It would play into the interview-bit and have Rozanov ask him questions that were already approved. It also said that Rozanov would fly over to Washington since he already had sponsor duties there, so his attendance wouldn’t be a surprise.

“Oh my god,” Scott groans. He gets pulled away by Coach Murdock whilst Christina pushes Carter forwards. Coach ushers him out of the hallway and drags Rozanov along. They get ordered to wait in a small conference room until Christina can join them. Scott stares at Rozanov, who is visibly having the best day of his life.

“Is good to see you still have energy to throw tantrums. Very inspiring for people your age.”

“Just kill me already.”

5.
“Bye, I love you! See you tonight!” Kip says before he closes the door behind him. From the couch, Scott waves him goodbye and then lets himself fall back down. He has a few hours left still until the last press conference will be hosted. With Kip going to an art installation and his workout done already, there isn’t a lot to do in the meantime.

Because he still feels bad about how the entire thing has gone so far, Scott gets his laptop and types out an e-mail to the press organisation. In it he asks which graduates have either sent in or published their pieces so he can read through them. He plans on contacting some MLH outlets as well - maybe he can connect them through the published articles. Just to be sure he texts Christina too, asking if she’d be down to make a collaboration video with the entire team and the organisation.

An hour later Scott closes his laptop with a sigh. He gets the salmon poke bowl that he bought this morning out of the fridge, then collapses back on the couch with it. Normally he wouldn’t be this on edge before a public speaking event. He’d get nervous, that’s never going to change, but not like this. Not to the point where he had stared at the cashier scanning his poke bowl because he detected an hint of an Eastern European accent. Although knowing that Kip will be in the room and on Rozanov-watch does help. It isn’t as if Rozanov’s antics have created huge problems, either. On the contrary, people seem to find it funny and think everything is planned. Scott just wants to end the collaboration on a normal note without any hiccups.

By the time he’s at the rink and walks through the door of the conference room, he still hasn’t received a message from Kip. Christina finds him and pulls him into a corner. “Before you worry, I’ve put people at every entrance to make sure Rozanov isn’t getting in,” she says. “And Kip told me his phone died, but he’s in the back.” She presses a microphone into his hands and sends him to stand in front of everyone.

“Good evening,” Scott starts, “I’d like to start by thanking everyone for their time and hard work. I’ve had the chance to read some articles today and I am truly blown away.”

The entire evening goes so smoothly, all stress is forgotten. Scott barely feels on edge anymore towards the end of it. The smile on his face is so genuine his cheeks start to actually hurt from it. “Okay, okay,” he laughs, “thank you for that very accurate comparison. Once again, I’d like to-“

“Wait!” Someone calls out. All heads turn to the voice, including Scott’s. He sees someone in sunglasses and a big moustache, except they don’t speak with a Russian accent. “Is there still time for a last question?” Scott recognises that voice out of thousands. A confused but relieved chuckle escapes his mouth. That’s why Kip had not texted him. He watches, stomach suddenly flipping and filling with dread, as his husband is now joined by another figure in sunglasses and a fake moustache. “We want to know-“

After hearing the second voice Scott gives the microphone to Christina, nods once to the room and walks out of the door.

+1
Being one of the most prominent players in the MLH does not mean that Ilya Rozanov keeps himself busy with the press. So it comes as a shock when he announces to not just participate, but actually host an event for media purposes. Retirement is out of the question - he makes that clear the minute he sits down in a chair on the podium. Which confuses the entire room, seeing as there isn’t any other reason as to why he would set up a press conference.

“Mister Rozanov, with all due respect. You aren’t announcing your retirement, a trade, or anything else related to hockey. Is there a reason why you chose tonight to answer questions despite being quoted on your disdain for press? Are you perhaps shifting to a more open attitude regarding media?” A reporter asks. She seems to realise something and quickly holds the microphone back up to her mouth. “Is this about The Irina Foundation?”

Rozanov smiles at that, winking at her as a sign of saying ‘bingo’. “Is good question, yes,” he voices. “Last week marked my mother’s death. Seeing the charity grow that is built for her, I cannot put in words how much that means. Is something she would be very proud of, I think. It has been so rewarding to witness help and support we have been able to provide through it.” He takes a sip of water to give himself a small moment before continuing. “I am sorry for confusion I have caused by not saying anything about tonight. But that is for good reason - I wanted to surprise someone and thank them. Someone that has put up with me both on and off ice, who lets me chirp but still takes me seriously when needed. He always treats me with respect and he is someone I look up to,” he sums up. In the back of the room there is some shuffling that makes a few people look. “Thank you to Scott Hunter for showing up tonight. It really means so much to me,” Rozanov ends it with and he gestures towards the back.

There, now with everyone’s heads and multiple cameras pointed at him, stands Scott Hunter. He is wearing a wig, has a giant fake moustache and slowly takes off a pair of oversized sunglasses. The loud applause fades into an awkward few claps. A horrified look takes over his face, which turns into realisation and settles on a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. Someone hands him a microphone that he tries to discard at first, but is forced to take over.

“I’m going to kill myself,” Scott mumbles. It gets picked up by the microphone and a wave of shocked gasps rolls through the room. His eyes turn wide. “No! I’m not- that was a joke!” Immediately the gasps turn into scoffs of disbelief. Desperate to find the right words, Scott looks at the podium to try and get Rozanov’s help.

All he sees is the biggest shit-eating grin that is going to haunt him for decades to come.