Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Drabble, One Shot, Tongue-in-cheek, Men's Underwear, Don't laugh at me I just needed to know, POV Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2025-12-13 Words: 1,240 Chapters: 1/1

Those Undies

Summary

While watching Heated Rivalry, it occurred to me to wonder: why does every man we see strip on the show have the same underwear? This clearly needed to be explored.

Notes

Note 1: This minific, written with tongue firmly in cheek, was inspired by my realization that every man we’ve seen in their underwear on the show has been wearing the *same* underwear: black boxer briefs. So clearly, I had to explore why that would be.

Note 2: I have no idea if Under Armour makes boxer-briefs; it just seemed like a likely brand.

Late 2008

“…and finally, the most important part of your new contract!” the woman from the NHL’s HR department exclaimed. She picked up a wrapped box off the table in front of her and handed it to Shane, giving him an eager go on gesture when he just blinked at it.

Obediently, Shane unwrapped the ribbon from the box, then pried up the flaps. He pulled off the lid, pushed aside some tissue paper – this was more complicated wrapping than his mom used on Christmas! – and uncovered…black cloth.

Shane stared down at it for a moment, nonplussed, then mentally shrugged and picked up the item, shaking it out. It was…underwear?

What the hell?

Shane squinted down at the black boxer-briefs in his hands, trying and failing to compute what was going on here, and then looked up at the HR lady. “Uh…” he began, then stopped, completely unsure what to even say.

She smiled toothily at him, looking overjoyed to be giving him the weirdest “gift” ever. “Well? Do they look like they’ll fit? We had your measurements from your draft documents, so they should, but you never know with intimates!”

…Intimates? Shane could only stare at her.

Her smile faltered after a few seconds of silence. “Did you not get the memo?”

The memo about…underwear? No, he definitely had not gotten the memo. “Uh, no?” he ventured cautiously, not entirely sure he wanted to know.

“Oh, no wonder you look so confused,” she said, sounding relieved to have a reason why he hadn’t jumped for joy at receiving underwear as a gift from a strange woman he’d never met before. “Ok so the NHL has a ton of sponsorship contracts, right? As well as individual players having their own?”

Shane knew that, had already been approached by a few companies, so he nodded.

“Well, one of our league contracts is with Under Armour.” She gestured at the boxer-briefs. “Specifically, their underwear. Every NHL player gets issued their flagship line upon signing their contract, and you’re expected to represent the brand by wearing it.”

“Wearing it when?” Shane asked, though he was sure that wasn’t the most important question he could be asking right about now, because honestly, what the fuck.

She cocked her head to the side, looking a bit confused by his confusion. “Always.”

He looked down at the underwear again, then up at her. “Do I…get more than one pair?”

Her eyes went wide and then she started laughing. “Oh my god, yes! That pair’s just to represent the concept. Don’t worry, you’ll get a whole wardrobe of black boxer-briefs.”

Well, that was something, at least. He supposed there were worse assignments to be given than to wear some expensive underwear. But… He fingered the cloth thoughtfully. “Only boxer-briefs?” Shane was a briefs kind of guy, had always preferred the support they gave even if they looked a little dorky. He was so used to wearing jocks anyway that it just felt natural to wear briefs that were cut similarly.

“Oh, yes,” she said, nodding. “We’re very firm on that requirement. NHL players are sex symbols to a lot of people, you know, so we did some market research and it was determined that the ‘sexiest’ male underwear was boxer-briefs. And white shows stains and sweat too easily, and prints were considered too effeminate, so…black.” She spread her hands demonstratively. “And thus a sponsorship contract was born.”

Shane looked down at his new underwear again, then sighed. He didn’t love them, but he could live with them. It was hardly the most unpleasant thing he was about to experience as he got up to speed with playing in the league. “Okay,” he told HR lady. Then, remembering her original question, he checked the tag in the underwear. They were a size medium, which had about an even chance of fitting well or cutting off the circulation in his legs, depending on how much thigh and butt room they allowed for. “These are probably a good size. I’ll, uh…try them on when I get home and let you know for sure?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no, let your equipment manager know, not me. I’m just the messenger girl for the new guys.”

“Oh. Okay, then.” He neatly folded the underwear again and placed them back in the box. “I’ll let them know once I’ve tried them on.”

She smiled widely. “Great!” she chirped. “I’m sure you’re gonna look great in them.” Somehow she managed to make that sound less objectifying than it ought to have been, for which Shane was grateful. “Just remember: every day. You never know when you’re gonna go home with someone who’ll see them, right? Gotta keep up that sex symbol status.” She winked and Shane tried not to wince because no, he would not be bringing home randoms anytime soon. Though it was interesting that she’d said someone and not some woman.

Not that the terminology mattered. Shane liked women just fine. He was just…shy.

HR lady clapped her hands together, signalling an end to their meeting. “Ok, I think you’re set, Shane. Head on out to your next meeting, and good luck on the team! Could you send in the next guy on your way out?”

Still reeling a little bit from everything that had just gone on, Shane could only nod politely. He walked out the door of the small office and found a bulky figure sitting in a chair in the waiting area.

The man looked up at him and Shane belatedly recognized Ilya Rozanov. Rozanov’s eyes fell to the box in Shane’s hands, and Shane fought a blush. There was no reason to blush. Rozanov didn’t know it contained underwear! And even if he did, he was presumably about to be given the same box and the same talk, so it wouldn’t matter!

“They give other gifts?” Rozanov asked, tipping his head to the side in question like a puppy. “I thought signing bonus was gift.”

“Uh…” Shane cleared his throat nervously. “Yeah, I guess you could call it that.”

And no, he definitely was not now imagining Rozanov wearing the “gift” he was about to be given. Very deliberately, Shane called up a mental image of the most unkempt, scary enforcer he could think of wearing silly little black boxer-briefs instead. There, that was better. Much less intimidating.

Rozanov, ignorant of where Shane’s brain had gone, just nodded. “Good. I go in?” he asked, pointing at the door.

“Oh, uh, yeah, she’s ready for you.” He paused, searching for the appropriate thing to say to this man he didn’t really know in this pre-underwear moment, then blurted, “Have fun.”

Have fun? That had definitely not been the appropriate thing, he realized, and barely resisted the urge to slap himself in the forehead.

Rozanov blinked blankly at him, then nodded again. “Sure. Fun.” He smiled slightly. “All of this is…very fun.”

“Yep. Definitely.” It was definitely time for Shane to get out of here. He gave Rozanov an awkward half-salute and, without waiting for any further comment or attempting his own, beelined for the door that led to the elevator vestibule.

He blew out a breath as he pushed the button to call the elevator. It was fine. Everything was fine. He was just going to not picture any of his fellow players in those boxer-briefs. Ever.

Famous last words.