Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

Gen, M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau & Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov & Victor St. Simon, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau & Victor St. Simon

Characters:

Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Victor St. Simon, Connors (Heated Rivalry), Ryan Carmichael, Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander

Additional Tags:

Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, POV Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Good Friend Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Good Friend Victor St. Simon, au where Shane didnt get hurt, Implied/Referenced Suicide, NOT ilya, Relationship Reveal, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov Relationship Timeline Reveal, Worried Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-03 Words: 1,473 Chapters: 1/1

locker room

Summary

Cliff's captain was missing again. 

Or

A glimpse into what could have happened if Shane hadn't gotten hurt.

Notes

Cliff's captain was missing again. 

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Roz to slip out without telling anyone. Cliff and the other veteran Bears had learnt to look out for it, but it was a known fact among them that if they were in Montreal, then their captain was definitely ditching them at some point for his Montreal girl. 

And normally, that was fine. Rozy was a big boy who was more than capable of taking care of himself and Cliff knew just how happy Jane made him, despite the Russian refusing to admit it.

Except Ilya's father had just died and Cliff's best friend was refusing to talk about it. Except this was his first game back after weeks in Russia dealing with that. Except Coach had pulled him and a few of the other veteran players aside back in Boston and specifically ordered them not to leave their too quiet captain alone in a stadium crawling with fans and reporters. Except normally Ilya at least took a fucking shower before he disappeared off to his Montreal hook up.

Except despite all of their attempts to stick close to him, Ilya had managed to disappear after the post game media scrum and now he wasn’t picking up his fucking phone! 

Cliff did even know if his captain was still in the building that he refused to admit he was frantically searching. He would never admit it, but a part of him was terrified at the idea of Ilya being alone right now. Not with how quiet he had been as of late, his usual chirps half hearted at best. 

Not with how he had perked right up the moment they had landed in Montreal, his previous dull mood seemingly melting away as he joined Connors in riling up one of the rookies about his new girl. Not with how he had slung his arm around Cliff's shoulders and tried to draw him into a bet on who would score the most goals tonight.

Cliff's little sister had been like that, once. Angry and upset at everything and everyone, lashing out and then pulling away. Cliff's parents had all been so relieved when one day she had woken up and seemingly been transformed overnight, all smiles and offers to help, to spend time with him and their grandparents.

He would never forget the panicked phone call from his mother, sirens wailing in the background as the ambulance rushed his baby sister to the hospital.

So yeah, Cliff might be a bit worried at the sudden change. Granted, Rozanov was always somewhat off when he returned from Russia, but this was different. This time Cliff thinks that Roz might have cut his family off for good, and he didn’t quite think the ramifications of that had hit Ilya yet. 

He really didn’t want Ilya to be alone when they did.

Cliff's phone buzzed as he rounded another corner and barely stopped himself from slamming into St Simon, the other man cursing as he stumbled back. 

“No sign of him.” The defenceman said when Cliff raised an eyebrow at him. “I checked the media rooms, medical, hell I even took a look around the visitors locker room.”

“Shit.” Cliff muttered, his eyes narrowing at his phone. “Connors says there’s still no sign of him at the lockers, nor is he with Coach, but Carmichael says his car is still in the garage.”

Carmichael was an idiot, but even he wouldn’t be able to miss the lime green monstrosity that Rozy had rocked up in earlier. Because Cliff's captain was in fact insane enough to choose to fly from Moscow to Boston and then immediately make the five hour drive to Montreal just before a game so he could have one of his precious cars with him.

Thankfully, they had a six day gap for Presidents Day weekend coming up and their coach had been kind enough to make their practices optional for the majority of it. Cliff and a few of the other Bears had already put their heads together to ensure that Ilya would not be left alone for long once they were back in Boston. 

“I don’t know where the fuck he could be then.” St Simons groused, running his hands through his hair as Cliff sent off one final text to Carmichael before sliding his phone into his pocket. “Unless he took an Uber or something, he has to still be in the arena, but we’ve fucking looked everywhere.”

“I don’t know man.” Cliff sighed as both men turned back towards the locker rooms. “Maybe his Montreal girl picked him up…?” He trailed off confusedly as the other man stopped dead in his tracks, shooting the defenceman a weird look as he tried to skirt around him.

“Vicky, what are you doing?” Cliff spluttered when his companion threw his arm out and grabbed him, pulling him back before Cliff could step around the corner.

“Shut up.” Vicky hissed, pressing Cliff back a step at the sound of footsteps headed towards them.

“Ilya, we can’t do this here.” Cliff's eyes widened at the familiar voice, freezing in efforts to escape his teammates' grasp. “Literally anyone could come around the corner at any moment.”

Vicky looked just as confused as Cliff felt, but the older man didn’t move, motioning for them both to keep quiet as he strained to listen.

“Relax.” Cliff started at the sound of the familiar Russian accent, prompting St Simons to glare at him. Cliff could only stare at him with wide eyes as Roz continued. “Anyone sees us, we just tell them that we are fighting, yes? They think us to be rivals, it would not shock them.”

“Somehow I don’t think anyone who sees us right now is going to think us rivals.” Hollander shot back, though his voice sounded more fond than annoyed. “Not unless you feel like removing your hand from my ass.”

Cliff must have hit his head during the game, that was the only explanation for this. In what world would Ilya Rozanov have his hand on Shane Hollander’s ass?

Or maybe had he been transported to some sort of alternate dimension this morning and just hadn’t noticed?

“But, мой злой маленький котёнок, it is such a nice ass!” Cliff suppressed a snort of laughter at the whine that Roz let out, not needing to peek around the corner to know that his captain was most definitely pouting. “It would be very cruel to not let me feel it.”

Vicky just shook his head, his lips twitching as he met Cliff's gaze and rolled his eyes. Roz, Cliff thought fondly, was such a fucking drama queen.

“Oh my god.” Hollander groaned, affectionately exasperated in a way that everyone who found themselves loving Ilya Rozanov felt in their bones. “I am not your angry little kitten!” 

Oh. Cliff was fairly certain that Hollander didn’t speak Russian. Which meant that either Ilya was calling him that often enough that Hollander just knew it now, or the other man was learning Ilya’s first language.

Either way, this was not how people who were just hooking up behaved, even if they were doing so on the regular. 

They needed to leave. Cliff tried to convey as much to Vicky with his eyes, flicking his gaze in the direction they had come from and back. The defenceman went reluctantly, moving slowly until they were out of earshot. Neither of them said a word, Cliff pulling out his phone to text the others that Roz was fine before turning it off and shoving it back into his pocket as complaints about his weirdly vague text rolled in.

“We tell nobody, alright?” Cliff said lowly. “Absolutely nobody. Not until we talk to Cap.”

“Of course not.” Vicky agreed easily, raising an eyebrow as Cliff let out a sigh of relief. “I’m not that much of an asshole. Their secret is safe with me.”

It was just as they reached the blissfully empty carpark that the thought hit Cliff, stopping him in his tracks as he grabbed Vicky's arm. “Oh my god.” He said aloud, eyes wide as saucers as Vicky turned to him in obvious confusion. “Oh my god they are such fucking idiots. I mean so are we but oh my god!”

“What?” Vicky asked, irritation written all over his face as he turned to face Cliff.

“Montreal Jane!” Cliff hissed, watching slow understanding dawn over St Simons. “All this time, its been…” He looked around the empty carpark, lowering his voice and tugging the other man closer. “All this time, Montreal Jane has been Montreal Shane!”

Vicky stared at him a moment, mouth slightly agape before he wrested his arm out of Cliff's grasp, eyes still slightly wide as he turned on his heel. “I need a fucking drink.”