Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Character:

Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Team Ensemble (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Coming Out, Relationship Reveal, hard launch, Clubbing, Stanley Cup, Confident Shane Hollander, Dancing, Supportive Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros, I mean supportive is a bit strong but they don't totally suck in this one

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-07 Words: 2,899 Chapters: 1/1

It Was Us All Along

Summary

After winning his third cup, Shane deeply regrets not having Ilya come down on the ice with him. Instead, he has Ilya come out to the club afterward for a very public hard launch.

Notes

In this AU, Shane never came out to his team, Hayden doesn’t know about Shane and Ilya, and Shane and Ilya are already engaged. Why? For fun.

No idea how this one turned out, but hopefully it's fun.

Shane Hollander’s first feeling upon lifting his third Stanley cup was overwhelming regret. His smile was fixed in place, and he wondered idly if everyone—the commissioner, his teammates, the fans—could tell that his heart wasn’t quite as present as it had been for the last two cup wins. He was ecstatic to have won, of course. He was proud of his team, proud of himself, riding the adrenaline of the game and ready to celebrate.

And that was the problem. There was only one person he wanted to celebrate with, and he was currently sitting on the couch in Shane’s Montreal apartment. Alone.

His parents were there, of course. He hugged them as they walked out onto the ice and tried not to feel empty or ungrateful for their presence. His father, as always, saw right through him.

“I’m sorry he couldn’t be here, son,” he said, squeezing Shane’s upper arm with a sad little smile.

“Me, too,” Shane replied. Then one of the rookies stepped up to introduce Shane to his mom and Shane pasted the smile back on his face, playing the role of proud captain even as his heart felt like an entire rack of weights in his chest.

The locker room afterward was a raucous mess, of course. Spraying champagne, climbing on benches, chest-pounding roars of triumph—and in the middle of it all, Shane, phone in hand, replying to Ilya’s congratulatory texts.

Lily

That last goal was maybe the sexiest one you’ve ever scored

Lily

Got me hard sitting here on your couch

Lily

I’ll be waiting for you, my champion

Lily

Have fun celebrating with the team

Lily

When you get home you get anything you want from me

Shane

Anything, huh?

Lily

Anything

“Hey, listen up!” Hayden shouted over all the commotion. “The WAGs have organized a club crawl for us with private tables and shit, and the team bus is going to get us there. Get showered and let’s go!”

JJ slapped Shane twice on the shoulder with a loud whoop. “You better be coming out with us tonight, Capitaine! No excuses!”

Shane shoved JJ away with a laugh, looking back down at his phone. “I’ll hit the first club with you and buy a round, but I’m heading home after that.”

Hayden lifted his chin at the phone in Shane’s hand as he yanked his compression shirt over his head. “What, are you hiding Lily away in your house? Need to abandon us to go get laid?”

“Something like that," Shane admitted with a grin. 

Hayden’s face lit up. “Wait, holy shit, Lily is actually at your house right now? Why the fuck wasn’t she at the game? Bring her out, man! Do we seriously not get to meet her after all these years?”

Shane’s smile faded. “There are reasons, Hayd.”

His words were met with a chorus of boos and protests from Shane’s teammates, JJ the loudest of all.

“Oh hell no, Capitaine,” he said, spreading his arms wide to drum up support from the other Metros. “What fucking reason could possibly be good enough to not come out and celebrate a fucking Stanley Cup win?”

“Seriously, man, what the fuck?” Gagnon added in support.

The swelling regret was back. He wanted to celebrate with Ilya so badly. Didn’t he deserve that the same as anyone else on the team? Didn’t Ilya deserve to be included? Shouldn’t they be allowed the same happiness? 

It hurt. And though he would never say it, he knew it hurt Ilya, too. Possibly even more than Shane. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

All at once, the decision was made.

“You know what, fuck it. Hold on.”

He hit the call icon next to Lily’s name and lifted the phone to his ear, his eyes scanning his teammates.

“My champion,” Ilya purred as he answered on the second ring. The low rumble of his voice did something to Shane, but he forced himself to focus.

“I want you to meet us at the first club we’re going to,” he blurted. Around him, his team broke into a cheer. Shane plugged his other ear so he could hear Ilya’s reply.

“Lyubimyy… what brought this on so suddenly? Why?”

Shane gave a bitter laugh. “Because it sucked not having you out on the ice with me. I should have had you there. It was a mistake.”

Ilya paused. “Shane, I do not want you to regret anything in the morning. This isn’t your plan.”

Shane pressed his lips together and shook his head even though Ilya couldn’t see him. “I know it’s not the plan. Fuck my plan. I can’t do this anymore. I’m fucking tired of hiding you.”

“You’re sure?” Ilya asked, though Shane could hear his growing smile through the phone. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Shane said. “I am completely sober and will not regret this in the morning. I’m dead serious.”

Confused looks flickered across a few teammates’ faces, but Shane ignored them. 

“Your mom will not be happy with us springing this on her, probably,” Ilya said, one last ditch defense against regret. Shane appreciated it, but his give-a-fuck had been left out on the ice and there was no getting it back.

“Honestly, my mom hated the ten year plan anyway. I know it’s only me that’s been holding us back,” he said. “I want you there. Will you come?”

“I will be there,” Ilya said, and Shane could tell he was beaming. “Text me the address. I love you.”

“I love you too. See you soon.”

As soon as the call ended, another cheer went up, and Shane couldn’t help the grin that took over his face. A surge of confidence filled him.

“Okay, listen up,” he called out. “Lily's name is not Lily, because I’m gay and Lily is a man. But I’m not going to tell you who it is because it’ll be funny as fuck to see your faces when he shows up.”

He clapped to snap everyone out of their brief shock at his announcement and pulled out his captain voice: “Get dressed, let's go, move it!”

###

It wasn’t until everyone was seated on the bus, with Hayden sitting protectively at Shane’s side, that the questions he expected started to come.

“Yo, Hollander,” Wilson called from somewhere further back on the bus. “Were you serious?”

“About what?” he called back, though he obviously knew. He just wanted to hear him say it.

“About being gay and shit,” Wilson replied.

“Yeah, man, I’m really ‘gay and shit,’” Shane said with a snort.

“What the fuck was Rose Landry then?” Comeau protested.

Shane snorted. 

“One last attempt at not being gay. Didn’t work, clearly,” he said. “Also that was three fucking years ago.”

Comeau threw his hands up in disbelief. “Yeah, but it was Rose Landry. You must be really gay to not make that work.”

Shane laughed. “Yep, one hundred percent dicks only. Well, one dick in particular.”

“How long have you and your boyfriend been together?” one of the rookie defensemen asked.

Shane grimaced. “It’s, uh… complicated? We kinda got together right after Rose and I broke up at the beginning of 2017. But also, we’d been hooking up since the summer before my rookie season, so. You know. It’s messy.”

“Your rookie season? Criss, Capitaine, how the fuck?” JJ sputtered.

“You’ll understand why when you meet him,” Shane said, his grin creeping back. God, their faces were going to be priceless.

“Wait, do we know him?” Hayden asked, looking deeply suspicious.

Shane shook his head. “I’m not saying another fucking word.” 

The bus lurched to a stop outside the glowing entrance to club number one, their first stop of the night. Shane stood and waved for everyone to follow.

“Everyone off! Let me open a tab and your first drink is on me.”

Because hey, what better way to combat potential homophobia than to buy everyone a beer? The answering whoops suggested it was working.

As the Metros spilled into the club, the wives and girlfriends who had beaten them there started a cheer from the private section, which was quickly picked up by every random person in the vicinity, many of whom likely had no idea what was going on. Shane went straight to the bar, pulling out his wallet and handing over his card once he had the bartender’s attention.

“I’m starting a tab for my team, and can I have Moscow mule and a vodka neat, your best Russian vodka please.”

“You got it, Captain,” she replied, clearly recognizing him. Normally her overtly flirtatious tone would make him deeply uncomfortable and awkward, but tonight, all he did was nod his thanks and turn around, glancing at the door. Soon, soon, soon.

They were really doing this.

Any minute now, his team would know. Then, the rest of the club. Then, the world.

Soon.

His drinks thunked down on the counter, perched on little white napkins, and he waved for the rest of his team to get their orders in. Once he had a beer in hand, Hayden slid up beside Shane and clinked his bottle against the copper mug of Shane’s Moscow mule.

“You could have told me, you know,” he said. “I would have been cool with it. I am cool with it, I mean.”

“I know, dude, I promise,” Shane said, glancing back at the door again. “I just didn’t think I’d be able to tell you without also telling you about him. And once you meet him, you’ll see why that would have been complicated.”

Hayden bounced on the balls of his feet and whined. “Come on, man, I’m your best friend, even I don’t get a hint?”

Shane shook his head and took a sip of his drink, crisp and delicious. “You’ll see. Just… remember that I love him, okay? And that I need you to be okay with it. Please.”

“Of course, dude. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Then, Comeau’s voice cut through the din of the club.

“Is that… what the fuck is Ilya Rozanov doing here?”

Shane whirled around with a wild grin, and Ilya stalked forward, a Hollander jersey draped over his broad shoulders. The heat in his matching grin lit a fire low in Shane’s stomach. With two more quick strides, Ilya was there, grabbing Shane just under his ass and hoisting him onto the nearest barstool as he leaned in. Shane responded with pure instinct, tightening his thighs around Ilya’s hips and taking his mouth in a heated kiss, one hand buried in Ilya’s curls and the other clutching his drink over Ilya’s shoulder. 

“No fucking way,” someone shouted.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Are they really…?”

Ilya pulled away, his smile bigger than Shane had ever seen it, and he turned toward the assembled team.

“Hello Metros!” he called out. “Congratulations on having my incredible husband-to-be on your team so you could win another cup!”

“You’re such an asshole,” Shane said fondly, shaking his head.

Ilya smirked. “You like it.”

“Fuck yes I do.” Shane picked up the vodka he’d ordered and handed it over. “Here, for you. Cheers, baby.”

They clinked glasses and Ilya sipped his, nodding approvingly. “You are so good to me.”

The Metros watched the entire interaction in stunned silence. Then:

“This is a fucking prank,” Comeau said.

“Nope,” Shane replied, popping the ‘p’ and grinning.

Hayden scrubbed a hand over his face and stepped back to put some distance between them. “The summer before your rookie season? Really?”

“We did a CCM shoot together,” Shane said.

“We were nineteen and horny,” Ilya added, dodging Shane’s retaliatory slap.

“Yeah, but it’s been a decade,” Wilson protested.

Ilya shot Shane a look. “Well, Shane played hard to get for some of that time.”

“And Ilya ghosted me like an asshole for some of that time,” Shane shot back.

“And Shane left me to go date a movie star for two months,” Ilya said with the air of someone delivering a killing blow. Shane winced.

“Yeah, okay, that one’s on me,” he admitted. “I’m still sorry.”

“Ancient history, lyubimyy,” Ilya said, pressing in for another long kiss. “I won in the end.”

Shane downed the rest of his drink and thunked his mug down on the bar.

“Let’s go dance,” Shane said, shoving at Ilya’s chest to make room so he could hop off the stool. Ilya drew back, surprised and delighted. 

“You want to dance? I thought you hated dancing.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never gotten to dance with you, have I? I bet that makes all the difference.” Shane leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Besides, isn’t dancing just like vertical fucking to music? And we are very good at fucking.”

Ilya growled. 

“Start talking like that then we won’t be on the dance floor for very long,” he warned. “Have you ever had sex in a club bathroom?”

“Not yet,” Shane said. “But I’m feeling kind of wild tonight, so who knows what’s in store?” 

He shoved at Ilya’s chest again, guiding him backwards. “Are we going to fucking dance or what?”

“We are going to fucking dance,” Ilya said, taking Shane‘s hand and leading him to the dance floor. Shane turned around and beckoned to the still stunned Metros.

“Come on, guys, get out here!”

Several of the guys downed their drinks and followed, pulling their wives and girlfriends along with them, but Shane quickly forgot about all of them. Ilya pulled him into the crowd and painted himself across Shane’s back, hips pressed to Shane’s ass, one arm wrapped around his stomach and tucked up under his shirt and the other skimming up his side. Shane closed his eyes and tipped his head back onto Ilya’s shoulder, letting Ilya’s hips drive their movement just like they were in bed. In other circumstances, the noise and the crowd might have been overstimulating, oppressive. Instead, he felt like he was fully present in his body, wrapped up in Ilya and protected from it all.

“You were right, moya lyubov,” Ilya said in his ear, giving it a nip. “We are good at moving together no matter where we are.”

Shane turned his head, letting his lips drag along Ilya’s jaw. “It feels like you’re fucking me right here in the middle of the club.”

Ilya’s grip on his stomach tightened, bringing Shane even closer, his growing hardness evident. “And all your teammates are watching. They thought you were a prude. They had no idea who you really were. Now, they know you’re mine.”

Shane let out a shuddering breath and turned in Ilya’s arms, leaning in to talk right in Ilya’s ear.

“Need to face this way for a while. Can’t have the guys getting an eyeful of how fucking hard you’re making me, grinding your dick into my ass.”

Shane felt Ilya smile against his neck.

“Maybe we need to check out the bathroom situation in this club sooner than I thought.”

Shane kissed along Ilya’s jaw until he finally met lips, unable to help his groan when Ilya’s tongue slipped in. He pressed closer, practically riding Ilya’s thigh as they kissed and kissed in full view of his teammates and every phone camera in the club. He didn’t care. He was high on how much he didn’t fucking care.

“There’s something I wanna do first,” Shane said when they finally broke apart. He pulled out his phone and flipped over to the camera. A decent photo would be difficult in the dark of the club, but he wanted this moment captured. And, more importantly, he wanted it shared with the world. He snapped several photos in a row: he and Ilya pressed cheek to cheek, dancing nose to nose, kissing, grinning. The photos were dark and a bit blurry, but they got the point across. They were recognizable. They were clearly together.

They were clearly in love.

He opened Instagram and added his favorite photos, with the one of them kissing as the last one in the carousel. Finally, he typed a brief caption:

I think they call it a hard launch? Got tired of hiding, so here you go: I’m in love with @ilyarozanov81. Thanks for putting up with my paranoid secrecy for so many years. So glad I get to finally celebrate a cup win with you. 🏆

He held it out to Ilya for approval, then added him as a collaborator and hit ‘post’. Ilya quickly pulled out his own phone and approved it, typed for a moment, then showed him the comment he had posted:

So proud of you. Ya tebya lyublu, my husband-to-be. 

Shane held his breath for a moment.

The expected surge of fear never came.

“We’re out,” he said, cupping a hand over Ilya’s cheek and smiling so hard it made his face hurt.

“We’re out,” Ilya echoed, pressing kisses to Shane’s eyebrows, cheeks, and lips, then breaking off with a laugh. Shane laughed too, his chest suddenly light, like he could simply float away. He copied the link to the post and pasted it into a text message to his mother.

Shane:

FYI, sorry to spring this on you!

Couldn’t wait any longer 

Then Shane turned his phone off, stashed it in his back pocket, and dragged Ilya toward the bathrooms, grinning.

Ilya had said he could have anything, after all.

He was ready to celebrate.