Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Scott Hunter, Shane Hollander & Rose Landry, David Hollander & Shane Hollander & Yuna Hollander, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike & Jackie Pike, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau & Ilya Rozanov, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble & Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov & Svetlana Vetrova

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Rose Landry, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Hayden Pike, Jackie Pike, Original Characters

Additional Tags:

Shane Hollander Comes Out, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Light Angst, Alternate Universe - Crack, crack treated unseriously too, Competition, Everyone Loves Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-06-18 Updated: 2026-10-04 Words: 17,333 Chapters: 4/6

The Hollander Boyfriend Checklist

Summary

In a world where Shane & Ilya never hooked up and were only ever rivals and colleagues, Shane does eventually come out (after Scott and Kip’s kiss that changed everything.) He keeps the media at bay by teasing what he’s looking for in an ideal boyfriend.

Ilya starts taking notes.

He’s not the only one.

Notes

This is a very silly crack fic inspired by this post by WatermelonTuesdays. I loved this idea so much I had to take a crack at it (pun intended.) I tweaked things a little bit, spreading everything out a bit, which means what was intended as a one-shot is now three chapters. 😂 Thank you so much for the inspiration, WatermelonTuesdays!

Just to reiterate - this is a canon divergent AU, it's a crack fic that starts out relatively normal, but will only get sillier as we go on! Suspend your disbelief and ENJOY the silliness!

Chapter 1: Chapter One

Shane

Shane’s life was hockey. As soon as he’d learned to skate, he lived and breathed the game. Knew the rules. Understood them in a way that was a head-rush of relief in a world that usually offered him nothing, but stress and discomfort. Hockey helped him carve out a space for himself and he loved it for that.

He knew the love he got in return was always conditional, but over the years he’d convinced himself it was enough. It had to be.

And then he watched Scott Hunter kiss his boyfriend out on the ice, after winning the Cup, and Shane realized not only did he want more…

He needed it.

That place inside of himself where he’d packed away everything that didn’t fit into the world he loved—everything he’d tried so desperately to ignore—cracked wide open and it all poured out.

Aching loneliness.

Bitter jealousy.

A deep, yearning want.

And the worst one—the one that he never seemed to be able to stamp out, no matter how hard he tried: a spark of hope.

Could I have that?

Staring at Hunter, who was fully fucking making out with his boyfriend between declarations of love, Shane didn’t even realize he’d started crying until his mom reached over to swipe a gentle finger down his cheek. He startled, huffing out a laugh as he scrubbed a hand across his face, suddenly aware of how the cheers from the TV were the only sound in the room.

“Sweetheart,” she began and Shane shook his head.

“I’m okay. I’m—” Fine? Happy for Hunter? Any answer would be good enough in its own way, something his parents would accept, but he couldn’t sit there in this moment and bring himself to say anything but the truth.

“…I’m gay.”

Silence fell over the living room again and Shane held his breath. He couldn’t take the words back, wasn’t even sure if he wanted to, but this—this would change everything. Every scenario he’d run through his brain before was purely theoretical. Ready or not, he was about to find out if their love was conditional too.

His dad cleared his throat, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees as he dipped his head to meet Shane’s gaze. “Hi, gay,” he said. “I’m Dad.”

Shane’s mom slowly turned away from him to stare at his dad. “David,” she said evenly. “What the hell? We talked about this. Numbers five through seven were off the table.”

“I thought it was a nice way to break the tension,” his dad protested, sitting back in his chair. “And say everything’s okay all at the same time, right? Because it is, son. Your mother and I love and support you and we’re so proud of you.”

“We do, honey,” his mom agreed immediately, whipping back around to grasp Shane’s hand. “Thank you for telling us and sharing that. We love you so much.”

“Sorry, I—hang on a second.” Shane’s mind was going a mile a minute and still hadn’t wrapped itself around what exactly was happening. “What did you mean ‘numbers five through seven’? What did you guys talk about?”

“Well,” his mom said, gently folding her fingers around his. “We thought that you…being gay…might be a possibility and we wanted to be prepared to support you in the best way possible.”

Shane’s eyebrows shot up. “And that way was ‘Hi, gay, I’m dad’?”

“No—”

“I was doing some research,” his dad cut in, grabbing his phone to pull up the sites he apparently had bookmarked. “And I found this article in the Globe and Mail about the top ten best responses for when your child comes out to you.”

“Some of which we decided were more appropriate than others,” his mom murmured with a sideways look at his dad.

“Oh, my god.” Shane buried his face in his hands. “You were researching?” Had he been that obvious this whole time? Did everyone have suspicions? No—well, Rose, probably. They’d danced around it enough when they broke up that she had to have some kind of idea. But he’d been sure that no one else knew and now to find out his folks had been researching—

“We’re your parents,” his mom said as she shuffled over closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “I like to think we know you better than most and once we had an idea this might be on the horizon, we wanted to be ready for whenever you were ready. For when you felt like you could trust us with it all.”

Swiping at his cheeks again, Shane snorted out a laugh. “And that’s what you went with.”

“Distracted you from being scared, didn’t it?” His dad grinned at them, impossibly proud of himself, and Shane couldn’t help but grin back because yes. It really had.

“Thank you,” Shane said, squeezing his mom back and shuffling over to make room when his dad joined them. “Both of you.”

There were some more tears after that, more talking, and few more groan-inducing jokes from his dad, but it was okay. Truly okay. Shane was still trying to let himself believe it when his mom went into ‘Yuna Hollander, Manager’ mode.

Her phone emerged as she started talking about how to handle things after he comes out—various sponsorship deals they could pursue, who to give interviews to—and Shane had to pump the brakes.

“I don’t know what I want to do or how or when I want to do it,” he said, exhausted after only coming out to his parents. He couldn’t imagine what facing the whole world would be like. “Let me have some time first? Please? Just to think about it all.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” His mom put her phone away with a shocking lack of argument. “We’re following your lead here so whatever you need, whatever you want, we’ll do it.”

A great approach—in theory.

Shane had only ever really thought about what he wanted from his life in terms of hockey. He put a lot of energy into not letting himself dream about anything beyond that so for the first time, he took a step back to think, really think about what he wanted his life to look like.

He made charts. Pro and con lists. He talked with his parents, with Rose, with Hayden and Jackie and JJ, and even Scott Hunter himself.

It was actually Hunter who helped him make the decision.

Shane, armed with a made-up story about a shoot for an ad campaign, flew down to New York with the goal of taking Hunter to dinner and picking his brain. They ended up at a hole-in-the-wall place that turned out to be as delicious as it was private, but it still took about thirty minutes of stilted small talk before Shane gathered the courage to broach the topic.

“So, how, uh—how have you been?” Shane asked, intently tracking the trail of a single drop of condensation down the side of his glass over even attempting to make eye contact with Hunter. “With, uh, with everything?”

“And by everything you mean, you mean how’s it been since I came out in the most public way possible?” Hunter’s wry laugh pulled Shane’s gaze and he looked up to see the man shaking his head. “It’s been…better than I thought it might be,” Hunter said with a sigh. “And worse.”

“Do you regret it?” Shane asked quietly.

Hunter watched him steadily, a small smile quirking up the edge of his lips. “No,” he finally said. “Look, rook—”

“Not a rookie anymore—”

“Fine. Hollander.” Hunter rolled his eyes with another grin before growing serious again. “Has it been hard? Yeah,” he said. “There’s been plenty of hate online and a few people brave enough to say something to my face, but that’s just noise. And the good is still outweighing the bad.” He shook his head again. “It was never going to be easy, but I have my friends. My team. Kip.”

Even just the mention of his boyfriend brought a soft smile to his lips, sending a twinge of jealousy through Shane—not that he wanted Kip. Just…someone all his own to smile over.

“And there’s been a lot of support too,” Hunter continued. “Way more than I ever expected—from fans. Journalists. Other players. A bunch of guys have—” Hunter lowered his voice as he leaned in. “Guys have reached out to me privately to say thank you for doing it, for being the first. Said it’s made a difference.”

“It has,” Shane murmured and Hunter paused, eyebrows slowly raising.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean—” Shane blew out a slow breath as he sat back in his seat. This was why he was here, right? Time to go all in. “It made a difference to me. I didn’t think I could ever…and you just—you just did it—”

“You didn’t get to see all of the baby steps and backwards mistakes that happened between hiding myself for years and then that.”

“Did you do it because of Kip?” If Shane could break it down, like a play, maybe he could figure out his own next moves.

“He was a part of it,” Hunter agreed. “…but I did it for myself most of all.” He nodded, more to himself than anything. “I was tired of being lonely,” he said. “And I was always going to be alone if I could never fully be myself.” He picked up a coaster, twirling it on the table a few times before setting it down and facing Shane.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Hollander,” he said. “It was scary as shit and sometimes the, uh, the enormity of it freaks me out if I think about it for too long, but it’s still the best fucking thing I ever did.”

“I came out to my parents,” Shane said in a rush. “And some of my closest friends and now I just, I don’t know. I’m trying to decide what to do next.”

Hunter’s face split into a wide, proud smile. “Congratulations, man, that’s awesome.” He lifted his glass for a toast. “I’m happy for you.”

“No, yeah, thank you, I appreciate that.” Shane clinked his ginger ale against it. “But what do I do?”

“I can’t decide that for you.” An incredulous little laugh escaped from Hunter as he stared at Shane. “This has to be about you, Shane. Your life. Your choices.”

Well, that was no help at all.

“I think,” Hunter—Scott, said carefully. “Maybe, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t at least have an idea of what you want to do.”

Right.

And that—

“It’s fucking terrifying,” Shane managed to get out. “But…I don’t want to be lonely anymore either.”

“Hey. Listen.” Scott waited until Shane met his eyes. “If you come out and get even half of the DMs that I did, being lonely won’t be an issue ever again—”

“Dude—”

“And considering you’re Shane fucking Hollander, you’ll probably get more.”

“This is your pep talk?” Shane laughed, shaking his head. “And what do you mean probably?”

Scott waved a hand at him. “You know.”

“You think I’m hot?” Shane smirked, intrigued by the way Scott’s cheeks pinked up.

“Shut up.”

…that wasn’t a no.

Scott fucking Hunter thought he was hot. Shane felt his own cheeks heat, despite himself, and took a moment to let that fact settle in his brain.

“So, how many DMs are we talking about here?”

“Brace yourself, is what I’m saying.” Scott signaled for another round before diving into a few stories about the boldest and weirdest messages he’d received over the last few weeks.

“It hasn’t been all dick pics and sexcation offers,” he said eventually as he tucked his phone away. “There really has been a lot of guys reaching out to say thanks and to—to just talk. So many of them are still too scared to ever come out. Saying it’s different because they’re not me. Or Shane Hollander, for that matter.”

Shane scoffed and Scott held up a hand.

“I meant it before—whatever you do, make sure it’s for yourself first.”

“But,” Shane prompted, already knowing where this was going.

“One guy coming out is big news,” Scott said. “But news fades and people move on and forget or let it be buried. Two guys? Both at them Cup winners? That’s got the potential for real change.”

“I don’t want to be the face for anything.” That had been forced on Shane more than enough times over the years and the thought of being the perfect gay hockey player role model was already exhausting.

But.

“I wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t have come this far, if it wasn’t for you though,” Shane admitted. He probably would have kept hiding until he retired. Maybe even beyond that. “If me coming out helps anyone else like you helped me, I can’t regret that.”

Scott watched him quietly for a moment across the table. “So, you’re doing it?”

Fuck. He was. “As long as you don’t mind me stealing your thunder?”

That got him another laugh. “Happy to share, rook—”

“Not a rookie—”

“—and I’m happy to help, any way I can,” Scott continued. “What are you gonna do? Make a post online? Give an interview? Got a boyfriend to start kissing in public?”

“Maybe, I don’t know, and I wish.” Shane scrubbed a hand over his face. “I literally just decided for sure. Gimme a minute to work out the details.”

“Interview’s not a bad idea if you can sit down with someone you can trust,” Scott said, tapping a finger against his glass as he thought. “A post is easy, but give someone an exclusive and you can head a bunch of questions off at the pass and set some boundaries.”

That actually sounded pretty good and there were a few reporters Shane liked, relatively speaking, that he thought could be trusted with this. Shit, this was starting to sound like a plan.

He and Scott bounced around a few more names and scenarios over their last round and by the time Shane flew back home, he had a loose game plan. He was still kind of terrified, but at the same time, filled with the kind of utter calm that he usually only felt during a game.

His parents had questions—many questions, especially his mom—and talking through everything helped them to tighten up the plan until it was as good as it was going to get.

They started with a carefully crafted statement. Shane wanted to get that out now and give everyone time over the summer to get used to the idea. His team included.

Offers rolled in for interviews, but Shane had already reached out to his top choice: Chelsea Nadeau, a reporter for Sportsnet who he’d known for years. She always asked smart questions, never pushed things just for the soundbite, and, according to her Instagram, had recently celebrated her fifth wedding anniversary with her wife.

Chelsea was thrilled to have the exclusive, making a point to congratulate him and offer her own well-wishes. Talking with her honestly felt more like sitting down with a friend…which was probably why Shane ended up being a little more candid than he meant to.

But it was all out there now, for better or for worse, and there was the whole rest of the summer ahead to let things settle down before the season started back up.

All in all, a pretty excellent plan.

Hopefully.

***

Exclusive interview with Montreal Metros star, Shane Hollander (cont’d)

CN: Shane, thank you so much for your honesty today. I know hearing all of this from you is going to mean a lot to many people out there.

SH: It felt good to talk about it so thank you for that.

CN: I think now I have to ask the question that’s going to be on everyone’s mind—

SH: Uh-oh. [laughs]

CN: Is there a special someone in your life right now?

SH: No, uh, not at the moment. Let’s just say I’m still looking Mr. Right.

CN: Something tells me you’re going to have a lot of offers…

***

Ilya

“Guys! Guys, guys, guys! Shut the fuck up!” St-Simon’s voice rang out across Marly’s backyard where the Bears were gathered for their end of season barbeque before everyone went their separate ways for the summer.

Usually, Ilya would be headed home, but home was a moving target at the moment. With Papa gone and Sveta staying in Boston for work, he had no desire to head back to Russia just to spend his days avoiding Alexei.

Marly had convinced him to stay, saying they could go for some road trips which didn’t sound terrible. And Sveta would be would around which was good. But there was still something itching at the back of his brain, an incessant little scratch that wouldn’t let him fully relax.

“Hollander’s interview dropped!” St-Simon yelled and of course, everyone instantly went for their phones to read it.

Except for Ilya who had already been reading it for the past ten minutes.

The itch was getting louder.

Scott Hunter coming out—that had been mildly interesting. Yes, big news for the hockey world, fine, whatever, but bigger news that he actually had enough energy for a young, hot boyfriend. Ilya didn’t think the dinosaur had it in him, but people could always surprise you.

People like Shane Hollander.

His post last week had been enough of a bomb and now this fucking interview. Captain Canada talking about his ‘coming out journey.’ Spread after spread of Hollander being so polite and well-spoken and fucking boring while looking so fucking sexy.

Ilya wanted him.

He needed him.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried over the years—carefully aimed chirps towing the line of flirtation. A whole-ass joint photo shoot that Ilya had orchestrated only for Hollander to rush out at the end before they had a chance for any kind of…one on one time.

Eventually he figured it was a lost cause and pulled back on his efforts, but Hollander was still always there as a looming question mark Ilya resigned himself to leaving unanswered.

The man had plenty of answers now, it seemed.

“Oooh, Hollander’s looking for Mr. Right?” Marly crowed, saluting the yard with his beer. “If there was ever anyone I’d try it out for…”

Noises of agreement went up around them and Ilya shot out of his lounger because what the fuck. “What is this? You would all be gay for Shane Hollander?”

“Well, yeah, Cap,” Carmichael said as the rest of the team nodded around him. “It’s Hollander.”

Of course, Ilya understood that. He should be the only one who understood that.

“Mm. Sorry, my English. Let me rephrase,” Ilya said, counting to three to gather the energy to deal with these idiots. “You think any of you would have a chance with Shane Hollander? The second-best player in the MHL?”

“Nothing wrong with shooting our shot, Roz!” Marly said, flashing another stupid grin at him and that was enough of fucking that.

“Okay, all of you, listen up,” Ilya said, stepping up onto one of Marly’s boxed flower beds, minding the plants so he wouldn’t get another lecture. “No more jokes. Hollander deserves better than assholes ‘shooting their shots’ or messing around. We give him respect. Serious applicants only.” He paused until the groans died down. “But also, if anyone is Hollander’s Mr. Right, it will be me. Best player in MHL. Nothing less.”

He batted away the hotdog buns and pickles that got thrown at him for that, cackling as he hopped down. They could cry about it all they wanted, but he was right.

Hollander just needed to see it too.

“And what if we’re serious?” Anderson, their rookie, piped up. Ilya raised an eyebrow at him as the rest of the guys turned their way. “If we’re actually gay—if I’m gay,” he continued, voice shaking ever so slightly. “Me. I’m gay.”

Ilya stepped forward to gently grasp the kid’s shoulder. “Then we say congrats and we support your application, right, boys?” The team cheered behind him and Ilya winked. “Hollander will still not go for you because you are tiny baby, but we support you.”

He smacked Anderson’s chest lightly, grinning when the kid rolled his eyes and told him to fuck off. Conversations picked back up after that with guys still talking about their odds with Hollander, but the usual shit as well—summer vacations, family stuff, newly drafted prospects.

Good. Let them all move on and let Hollander’s news fade into the background. Ilya would not forget. His mind had been turning it over for days and now it was time to start planning.

His shot would hit the bullseye.

***

Shane

Coming out had been…better than he expected. His post and the interview were shared by people within the hockey world and beyond. There had been a lot of shock, some nastiness, but the bad was definitely getting drowned out by the good. Guys were sending him messages of support, of thanks, and yeah, of penises. 

So many penises.

He’d banned his mom from managing his social media accounts for now because there were some things she just did not need to wade through.

Scott had been right though (as he’d reminded Shane no less than three times now.) Two guys made a difference—well, it was five guys now, so yeah—Shane coming out had made a difference.

His team had been a bit weird, the chirps landing on the sharp side until Shane logged onto the group chat for long enough to make it clear that none of them were his type so they could fucking relax. (Seriously, Comeau, he would never.)

He didn’t expect them so many of them to demand to know why not. In any case, it helped put things back on a more even keel as half of them moved on, basically pretending it never happened, and the other half kept tossing out names of athletes and other famous guys, competing to guess his type. Trying to recognize anyone outside of the athletes was a losing game for Shane and his team had terrible taste, but it was a kind of teasing he could live with. Chirps were familiar territory.

Teasing quickly morphed into attempted set-ups though (J.J. was especially bad) and he had to put a firm rule in place. No trying to find his Mr. Right. Shane could do that on his own. Probably.

People kept asking him what he was looking for and Shane was trying to figure that out, okay? He’d never let himself think too much about it before because having a proper relationship never seemed like it would be something he’d get.

Now it was an actual possibility and he had interest and offers and he was a little overwhelmed. A lot overwhelmed.

“It doesn’t have to be that serious, hun,” Rose said during their weekly wine and video chat. “You don’t have to come out and settle down immediately, you know? Maybe have some fun with a few Mr. Right-nows.”

“Kind of hard to have fun with it when it all feels so public,” Shane muttered before gulping down half of his glass.

“Okay, so have fun with that,” she said, leaning in with a gleam in her eye. “You’ve got a platform to reach thousands of men. All potential dates! Let them know what you want. Tease them a little. Make them work for it.”

“Rose—”

“You deserve to let loose a little, Shane.” She raised an eyebrow at him and pointed a finger at the screen. “Relax and see what happens…”

Relax.

Have fun.

See what happens.

Shane was pretty sure it was terrible advice, but Rose’s words came back to him a few days later while he was working on an ad campaign for Calvin Klein underwear. He was in make-up, getting prepped for the shoot, when a nervous, wide-eyed guy approached him.

“Mr. Hollander? Hi, I’m James, I’m interning with the social media team.” He stuck out a shaking hand and Shane shook it with a smile.

“Nice to meet you, James.”

“We’re hoping to do some behind-the-scenes footage that we can post online.” He held up his camera and a little microphone. “Would you mind doing a quick interview?”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” Shane accepted the mic and faced the camera as the make-up team backed away for the moment. James started with a few easy questions like favourite summer vacation spots, favourite way to relax, boxers or briefs—all the standard fluff.

Then, James straightened his glasses and took a breath. “We also put out a call for fan questions,” he began. “And the number one question was—”

Oh, god.

“What would it take for someone to be Shane Hollander’s Mr. Right?”

“Seriously?” Shane huffed out a laugh. “The number one question? People really want to know that?”

“Yeah, I mean—” James shrugged, waving a hand in Shane’s direction. “You’re Shane Hollander.”

...you know what?

He was.

He was Shane Hollander and he was out and maybe he was ready to have some fun.

“Well,” Shane said, mouth curling up as he brought the mic closer. “First of all, he should play hockey.”

“Just play?” James asked and Shane was pretty sure he spotted one of the hair and make-up team taking notes.

“No, he should be good,” Shane said. “Really good. I want someone who can keep up with me, you know what I mean?”

“Mm-hm,” James squeaked, nodding vigorously.

“So, amazing at hockey.” Shane ticked the point off on his fingers. “He should definitely be an All-Star, maybe even a Captain, but that’s not a deal-breaker. Oh, and he should have at least one Stanley Cup. Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Hot, too. I know attraction’s subjective so let’s just say I’ll know it when I see it,” Shane said with a wink. “Strong is a must. If he can't bench-press me, I'm not interested.” One of the production assistants was headed their way at a clip so Shane figured it was best to wrap things up. He leaned toward the camera and smiled. “I hope that helps.”

James nodded and hurried off as the hair and make-up team swooped back in to finish him up.

Rose was right, that was fun. Maybe now that they had his pretty unattainable list, people would calm down.

***

TRENDING TAGS

#HollanderBoyfriendChecklist
#ShaneHollanderBoyfriend
#BoyfriendApplication


TOP SEARCH TOPICS

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Chapter 2: Chapter Two

Chapter Summary

The Boyfriend Checklist grows longer and plans start coming together...

Chapter Notes

Hi! Thank you for all of the enthusiasm in the comments! I'm so happy people are enjoying this little crack fic adventure, lol

Two things:

1. I'm sorry, I don't know how to code and make the text chats look cool. Just use your imagination, okay? 😂

2. In this AU, Shane lives in a fancy house in Montreal that is way too big for him, but was a good investment. It has a sprawling backyard that he made good use of (*plot relevant!*) and it's close to both the Pikes and his parents.

That's all! Thanks!

APPLICANTS GROUP CHAT 

MacGregor
Group chat.
As promised.

Culver
Why is Anderson here?
He doesn’t have a Cup
You don’t have a cup Anderson!
You don’t qualify!

MacGregor
Fucking relax, man

Agapov
Culver is scared of competition

Culver
Fuck OFF dude
I’m just sayind

MacGregor
Anderson’s our inside man
To get info on you know who

Culver
Right.
ROZANOV

Heinonen
Fucking Rozanov.
I know he’s planning something.

Fournier
Fucking. Rozanov.

Agapov
My hero.
I will crush him.

Delandre
FUCK ROZANOV!!!

Anderson
I’m not cussing out my captain.
…but I will help level the playing field.
PLEASE NO ONE TELL HIM.

Tiero
You guys should be thanking him!
Anderson, I mean

Heinonen
Thank you, Anderson

Fournier
Thank you for your service, bud
Hopefully Rozanov doesn’t kill you

Anderson
Wait

Agapov
We will protect you
Thank you, little rookie

Tiero
I got your back, Sunny!

Delandre
Thanks, bro

Culver
Yeah, thanks

MacGregor
Yes, thank you Anderson
Now, let’s start planning

Hunter
What the fuck is this group chat
and why am I in it?

Culver
Scroll up, old man

Hunter left the chat

Hunter was added to the chat

MacGregor
Hunter! Just wait. Please.
This is the group of guys I told you about.
Actually out and serious about making a play for Hollander.

Hunter
Again, why am I here?
I have a boyfriend.
I’m not making a play for anybody.

Culver
Romance already gone, Hunter?

Fournier
Your poor boyfriend.

Hunter
Fuck. Off.
You know what I mean.

MacGregor
You’re here because we need all
the help we can get against Rozanov.

Hunter
I’m listening…

MacGregor
We’ve all got our own plans.
Anderson will let us know if he can find out
what Rozanov’s up to and we figured
since you’re tight with Hollander, you might be able
to slide us some pointers when you can?

Hunter
I think anyone who’s serious about him
should be doing their own homework.

Culver
Booooooo
Tomato, tomato

Delandre
I think what Culver means is
Please reconsider

Agapov
We’re up against ROZANOV

Heinonen
Do you want to see him win this too?

Tiero
Please, Cap!!!
prayer hands emoji

Hunter
Rook? You’re in here??

MacGregor
He’s how we got Anderson on board.
Best friends from juniors or some shit.

Tiero
From Timbits! Me and Sunny go way back!

Anderson
We grew up together in the same town.

Culver
Can we go back to Tiero fucking typing out
prayer hands emoji  ???

Anderson
He says it’s faster than searching the emoji list

Tiero
grinning face
Come on, Cap
For me??

MacGregor
Or for me, considering you still owe me
Remember All Stars 2008?

Hunter
Fuck. Fine I’m in.
I’ll let you know if I hear anything.
For the record.
This is a bad idea.

Culver
Everyone say thank you, Hunter

Hunter
eye roll emoji
Hey that is faster

***

CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN

Rook

Yeah, Cap?

Sunny?

Yeah, we go way back!

Kid.
side eye emoji
Sunny??

Oh, like the nickname?
It makes sense when you know him, right?
Anderson
Son
Sonny
Sunny because his smile is so bright
Hang on, let me send you a picture
You’ll get it

[image downloaded]

…

INCOMING CALL FROM CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN

***

Shane

The internet was a terrifying place.

Shane knew this, in the abstract sense, but he’d never really experienced it to this degree. Moments after his little interview went up, everything exploded online. He got tagged in videos of people crashing out, vowing to learn to play hockey so they could win a Cup plus the hundreds of tweets from hockey players chirping other players about how they’d never have a chance with him. Chirping athletes from other sports too. People kept asking him ‘what else?’

Which he didn’t really get until he saw #HollanderBoyfriendChecklist was trending.

He truly didn’t understand why people were so…excited? Was that even what this was? He knew he was attractive, objectively speaking, but none of these people actually knew him so how could they be so intense about wanting to date him? It seemed like everyone—Well. Not everyone.

Rozanov hadn’t posted anything yet. He hadn’t been completely silent—he’d publicly supported Shane when he came out, making a reference to himself being bisexual when he shared Shane’s post which was huge. Although not as huge as it could have been considering how many other guys came out around the same time. But he’d also sent a nice private message reiterating his support which Shane appreciated.

And then nothing.

Shane didn’t know what to make of it. He’d expected a flurry of his usual flirty chirps or some kind of ridiculous declaration, but he’d been nothing but polite. It was weird.

Maybe he was being careful because he didn’t want Shane to think he was interested him? Obviously, Shane would never assume that about anyone, especially not from Rozanov. A bit of innuendo from him was basically small talk. This was the guy who usually told Shane his room number in lieu of saying hello every time Boston played in Montreal. He was just like that.

So, ultimately, he didn’t owe Shane any kind of follow through or any real interest at all for that matter. It was fine. Honestly.

…but Shane could admit, just between him and his phone, that he was the tiniest bit disappointed.

He didn’t really have time to dwell on that with the sheer volume of messages he was receiving. Propositions aside, there were more and more interviewers reaching out, asking to chat. Rehashing everything a dozen different ways was really not how he wanted to spend the rest of his summer so he sent a blanket reply to his mom and the PR team, asking them to politely decline them all.

Instead, he got a counter offer. Yuna and the team thought that it would be smart for him to accept at least a handful of interviews. ‘Strategically speaking’ apparently everyone trying to guess who he might be interested in was keeping the focus away from even more invasive questions. The plan was to drop a few more tidbits to keep the media appeased enough to give him some breathing room. Ugh.

Fine.

Shane fired off an email, agreeing to the plan, and then went to hunt down a notebook. If he was doing this, he needed to work on expanding his checklist.

***

Ilya

“Amazing at hockey, Captain, Stanley Cup, hot as fuck—”

“Pretty sure Hollander didn’t say as fuck,” Marly raised a lazy eyebrow at him from his sprawled-out spot on the couch.

“—hot as fuck,” Ilya snapped, not stopping his pacing as he ticked the points off on his fingers. “Super strong. Oh! And All Star. It was about me, Marly. Me!”

“I dunno,” Marly said, scratching at his sweats idly. “He didn’t say he was looking for an asshole so we probably need some more qualifications to be sure.”

“Ah, first of all, I am charming asshole.” Ilya kicked Marly’s foot off of the coffee table. “Very important de—uh—” What was that stupid word? “Distinction,” Ilya said, enunciating every syllable. “Second of all, fuck off.”

“Dude, you’ve been obsessed with this list for days.” Marly narrowed his eyes at Ilya as he slowly sat up. “I thought you were joking about the whole ‘only the best player in the league is worthy of Hollander’ thing,” he said, putting on a truly terrible Russian accent for his imitation. “But you seriously want to go for it, don’t you?”

“Do you not listen?” Ilya threw his hands up. “Keep up!”

“Okay, can you blame me though?” Marly stood up to join him in his pacing. “You’re always joking about flirting with him and with the whole rivalry thing, I though this was just an extension of the bit, you know?”  

“Flirting is always dead serious, but Hollander never believes me either,” Ilya said. “Rivalry is part of it. Makes it fun. Exciting. But Hollander is amazing and the only one who can keep up with me. He is very pretty, very sexy.” Ilya waggled his eyebrows at Marly who laughed. “But he is also smartest player I have ever known and if you listen to interviews, he is so funny. Sneaky funny. And kind. He does charity work without telling whole world he is doing it. He is good to kids. His chirps are so bad, but so cute. His smile—”

“Oh, my god, you really do like him,” Marly stared at him, a smile that Ilya did not like the look of spreading across his face. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Yes! I told you—” Ilya dragged a hand through his hair before stopping in his tracks as a horrible thought occurred to him. “What if Hollander does not believe this time too?”

“Shit.” Marly also stopped, frowning as he thought that over. “You’re just going to have to prove it to him—”

“Yeah, no shit, how?”

“Well, fuckin’ let me think here, Roz.” He picked up his pacing again and Ilya followed, both of them wearing paths around the living room as they tried to untangle the threads of Ilya’s potential best possible love life.

“Maybe first,” Ilya said, slowly. “No jokes on internet. If I want Hollander to take me seriously, I cannot post about how sexy he looks in photo shoots or how smart he sounds in interviews. Even when he is very smart and sexy.” It would be difficult, but Ilya could do it. For now.

“That’s a good start,” Marly said, walking out of the living room which was the opposite of helpful.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“Relax,” Marly’s voice drifted in from the kitchen. “I’m getting the whiteboard so we can plan this shit up right.” He came back with the board and a handful of the markers. “Let’s get you your man.”

*

It was a good thing Ilya had the plan to focus on and Marly to help keep him on track because over the next couple of weeks, Hollander seemed determined to torment him.

More interviews. Kept. Coming. Out.

Ilya read them. Watched them. Every single one, over and over again, like a disciple studying the sacred texts. A second white board was purchased as he and Marly quickly filled up the first one with every piece of critical information learned.

With each one, Ilya was more and more convinced that he was the one. He was the man Hollander was looking for. He had to be! The spark had been there since the beginning and in the years since, the connection between them was undeniable. And now this fucking list…

“I want someone who is supportive of me and that I can support in return.”

He always wanted Hollander to be the best he could be because that was the most fun to play against and Hollander being great helped Ilya to be better.

“I’d love to be with someone who is as into hockey as I am and, this is going to sound weird, but has hockey smarts? Does that make sense? I love breaking down plays and examining stats and I’d hate to bore them with all of that.”

It made Ilya crazy when Hollander went full hockey nerd. It was fucking hot. Analyze those players, baby. Break down those numbers. Never stop.

“A sense of humour is a must.”

Everyone knew Ilya’s humour was legendary. Watch all of his chirp reels. He’ll wait.

“Cooking skills, I guess? Hockey players have pretty specific diets, but I’m not against breaking mine for a special occasion so a guy who can make that worth it has my interest.”

They say once you’ve tried Russian food, you can never go back.

“I think it’s important to have a partner who can challenge you as well.”

Look at their history. Look at it.

“I don’t think it’s a secret that I’m kind of homebody. I’d like a guy who was happy to have quiet nights in with me. Someone who’s just happy to spend time together.”

Okay, this one…Hollander had no way of knowing, especially with Ilya’s reputation, but settling down with a partner? Having someone in his life beyond hockey? To build something together?

Ilya wanted that too.

He was becoming more and more convinced that Hollander might be the person to build it with.

Of course, then Marly threw a brick in the works. “Yo, I was talking to my buddy Fournier while we were gaming,” he yelled out from the living room when Ilya came back from a run. “And he kind of let it slip that a few other guys are pretty serious about Hollander. You’re definitely not the only one with plans, man.”

Hm.

That was not ideal news.

Not that Ilya was afraid of a little competition—and it would be little considering Ilya was Ilya and no one else could compare to that—but he also wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. He needed to up his game. Ilya grabbed his phone and quickly hit redial on the top contact, waiting impatiently for it to connect.

“What.”

“Sveta, please, please, please,” Ilya said, spitting out the words in rapid-fire Russian. “I need the biggest favour in the world.”

“Is this for the Hollander thing?” she sighed.

“Of course it is for the Hollander thing. Do you not want your best friend to be the happiest man alive?”

Another sigh along with muttering about what an idiot Ilya was. “Fine. What?”

“Teach me how to make a spreadsheet.”

***

Shane

“I love that you're actually shopping for a man through interviews,” Rose said, eyes crinkling up with teasing laughter though the laptop screen and Shane froze mid-sip of his ginger ale because what?

“I’m not—I’m not shopping, I’m not doing that,” he sputtered. “What are you talking about?”

“So, you’re not just putting all of these qualifications out there and hoping the right man comes knocking?” She raised an eyebrow at him as she drank her wine.

“No, it’s just a distraction thing that’s keeping the press happy,” Shane said. “Nothing’s going to come of it.” His DMs were still a bit wild, but he wasn’t taking any of them seriously. It wasn’t like any of these guys were asking him out on an actual date. Shane was just happy that people seemed to be more focused on talking to each other about him and the nasty comments online were diminishing by the day.

“Mm-hm, okay, so I guess we’re also not talking about how all of these checklist items are coming together into an Ilya Rozanov-like shape?” Rose continued, staring at him expectantly and again—what?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shane said, shaking his head at her giggles. “No, seriously, what do you mean? Everything I’ve said sounds nothing like Rozanov—”

“Crazy good at hockey, Captain, All Star, hot—”

“That still covers a lot of guys—”

“Could bench-press you, for sure. Please god, when will it be my turn?”

“That’s not all I said,” Shane protested because he did not come up with a full list for it to be reduced to Ilya Fucking Rozanov.

Did he?

“Oh, right,” Rose said, nodding. “You also said funny and smart and can cook—”

“We don’t know that he can cook,” Shane said immediately because they didn’t.

“You haven’t looked at his Instagram lately, have you?”

And no, Shane had not because he learned awhile ago that Summer Rozanov was more than a bit deadly and he could only handle so much of that.

“Your face is so red right now,” Rose cooed. Shane regretted their entire friendship. Even more so when she followed that up with, “You should ask him out.”

“What.”

“Instead of waiting for him to come to you,” Rose said, sitting up straighter as her enthusiasm for the idea grew. “Obviously you have a crush on him and who wouldn’t plus you guys have had this flirty rivalry thing over the years—”

“I don’t flirt with him! He flirts—”

“Not denying the crush, I see.”

Shit.

“Exactly.” Rose nodded to herself. “Yup, this is absolutely what you should do.”

“Rose,” Shane sighed. “I can’t.”

“Sure, you can—”

“No, I can’t. I don’t—yes, I am not not interested in Rozanov, he ticks…a lot of boxes, but I also want something real, you know? I want an actual relationship.” Something deep and passionate like Scott and Kip had. Something steady and fun like his parents had. He wasn’t sure if he was going to find it, especially starting out from this completely different and weird place than everyone else, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to look for it.

“Rozanov doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being a long-term kind of guy,” Shane said, swallowing down another sigh.

“People can surprise you, Shane,” Rose said. “If you let them.”

*

Rose’s words were still circling around in Shane’s head hours later. Even after years of being work colleagues essentially, it wasn’t like Shane really knew him. How could he be sure what he was looking for?

Against his better judgement, Shane opened up Instagram, bracing himself for Summer Rozanov. Sure enough, as he scrolled through his account, it was post after post featuring that bare, sculpted, insanely perfect chest. But as Shane looked closer, he realized the current posts were slightly different than normal…

Shirtless Rozanov lounging on a deck, reading the same hockey book Shane currently had on his beside table.

Shirtless Rozanov playing with puppies, a sign for a shelter in the background.

Shirtless Rozanov stirring something on a stove. That couldn’t be safe. Looked delicious though.

Shirtless Rozanov working in a garden?

Shirtless Rozanov doing laundry?? That at least kind of made sense.

He actually had a shirt on in the last photo since he'd finally had time to do his laundry. Shane almost closed the window before the caption caught his eye and he had to read it three times for it to sink it.

RealRozanov81: Do you like my new shirt? It’s made out of #BoyfriendMaterial

***

APPLICANTS GROUP CHAT

Anderson
Head’s up
Marly said something to me about Roz
leaving for Montreal tomorrow.
Whatever you guys are planning to do,
I’d do it now.

***

Ilya

Ilya’s plan was as good as it was going to get. He’d booked a flight, gathered up his supporting documents, triple-checked them, and was headed for the airport. The only people who knew the details were Marly and Sveta who were on call to be reference checks.

His stomach was so jumpy on the flight that he actually asked for a ginger ale, silently saluting Hollander before the first sip.

It was a good plan though.

It would work.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Landing took forever and Ilya hit the ground running once he made it inside the airport. Well, striding. He wasn’t about to have everything ruined by overzealous airport security trying to detain him. He did a double take though when he thought he caught a glimpse of Culver from L.A. over by baggage claim and Fournier from Pittsburgh in line at the Starbucks.

Could be coincidence. Lots of players travelled during the break to all kinds of places.

Ilya picked up the pace just in case.

The suspicious little alarm that had started up in his brain at the sight of Culver and Fournier was blaring by the time he stepped up to the car rental counter. He’d spotted Heinonen from Washington heading into a washroom and MacGregor from Edmonton yapping on his phone while he charged it at one of the stations.

Some kind of fuckery was going on and Ilya was not impressed.

All of these newly out players happened to be landing in Montreal at the same time for no particular reason? Who did these assholes think they were?

Not Ilya Rozanov and he was going to make sure they remembered that.

Ilya smiled at the young guy working the desk. “Hello, Colin,” he said after a quick glance at the name tag. “I’m here to pick up my rental. My name is—”

“Ilya Rozanov,” Colin breathed out. “I know who you are, sir. It’s an honour.”

“Ah, you are a fan.” This was going to be easier than he thought. “I am wondering, Colin, if you could do for me one teeny tiny favour…”

Ten minutes later, Ilya was on the road and Colin was set in his instructions to delay any other players who came up to his desk for as long as possible.

Best five thousand dollars Ilya had ever spent.

He sped down the highway, miraculously without getting stopped and made his way to Hollander’s place. Ilya had tracked down his address through some very convoluted channels that involved more bribery and a surprising amount of WAG support. He had Sveta to thank for that. His GPS announced cheerily that he had arrived as he pulled up to the front gate and Ilya took a deep breath. He was ready, he reminded himself. He could do this. Ilya pressed the buzzer and immediately realized the slight flaw in his plan as he waited.

What if Hollander wasn’t home?

No matter. Ilya could wait.

He didn’t have to wait long as a few seconds later, he heard the click of the intercom coming on and turned to smile into the camera.

There was a pause before Hollander’s voice came through the crackly speakers. “…Rozanov? What the hell—”

“Hello, Hollander,” Ilya called out with a little wave. “I am here with application.” He grabbed the folder he and Marly and Sveta had worked to perfection, holding it up for the camera.

“Application? Application for what?”

“Boyfriend application,” Ilya said, frowning at the slightly panicked note in Hollander’s voice. “I followed your interviews and know all of the requirements. I worked very hard on this.” He waved the folder again. “Let me show you.”

Silence rang out from the speaker and Ilya held his breath until…the gate buzzed and swung open. Ilya made sure he was past the camera before grinning all the way up the drive toward the house.

So far, very good.

***

Shane

What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

Shane paced around his front foyer completely overwhelmed by the fact that he had no idea what the hell was going on. One minute, he was having a nice surprise Saturday brunch with Rose, Hayden, and Jackie, and then minute…Ilya Rozanov was at his front gate.

With an application to be his boyfriend? This had to be a joke.

Was it a joke?

He didn’t think Rozanov would be that cruel…

So, was it real?

Oh, god.

Hayden and Jackie were no help. Hayden was busy whispering ‘Rozanov? Fucking Rozanov?’ in increasingly high-pitched tones which, yeah, buddy, Shane couldn’t really wrap his head around it either. Jackie was busy shushing him while keeping one eye on Shane. Probably trying to make sure he wasn’t hyperventilating. No promises there, Jacks.

Rose was the only one capable of action. She’d been the one to actually press the buzzer and let Rozanov in, which Shane still wasn’t too sure about despite making no move to stop her.

So, this was a thing. That was now happening.

“Breathe,” Rose instructed as she reached up to do something with his hair. “Like me. In. And out.” Shane did his best to follow, shakily taking air in until soon, way too soon, there was a knock on the door. His heart immediately started pounding again and he looked down at Rose, silently begging her to help.

She rolled her eyes, yanking on his arm as his socked feet skidded across the floor until he was planted in front of the door. “Open it,” she said, stepping back.

Shane opened the door.

Rozanov stood there, bright blue folder clutched in his hands and a wide smile on his face. “Hello, Hollander.”

“You’re here,” Shane said, not quite capable of processing anything other than that.

“I am.” Rozanov took a step closer and fuck, he smelled so good. When did he get here? People never smelled that good after coming off a plane. Did he get here earlier and then freshen up, just to see Shane? Or did he naturally just smell like that—

“I am here with Boyfriend Application,” Rozanov said, cutting through Shane’s spiraling thoughts.

He could actually hear the capital letters there.

“Will you let me in?” Rozanov continued. “So, I can make pitch? I promise it will be worth it.” Rozanov’s eyes dipped down to Shane’s lips, then back up, his smile softening as he searched Shane’s face. “I made charts,” he leaned in to whisper.

“Shane, let the man in!” Rose hollered from behind him and Rozanov blinked in surprise.

“Oh, you have company,” he straightened up, lowering the folder as his face settled into more polite lines. “I can go—”

“No,” Shane said immediately and they both looked down to stare at Shane’s hand now gripped around Rozanov’s wrist. “Please, uh, come in.” He tugged and Rozanov came willingly, stepping inside the house.

Rose immediately closed the door behind them, making Rozanov jump when she popped out from behind him.

“Ilya Rozanov,” she said, eyes darting between the two of them as she grinned. “Isn’t this a fun surprise!”

“It’s a joke, right?” Hayden blurted out, glaring at Rozanov. “I mean, it has to be, right?”

“No joke,” Rozanov said, not even looking at Hayden as he held up the folder, only holding steady eye contact with Shane. “I have put together application to be Hollander’s boyfriend. Very serious. I brought it in person so he would know how serious.”

And that—that was…wow. That was insane, but also…amazing? This was real, this was happening, Rozanov was interested in him, Shane Hollander, to the point that he put together some kind of presentation and came all the way to Montreal to share it in person so Shane would know he was serious. What did he even say to that?

“You, uh, you should probably call me Shane if you’re going to apply to be my boyfriend,” he said, biting his lip at the way Rozanov’s grin got impossibly wider.

“And my future boyfriend should call me Ilya,” Rozanov—Ilya said.

“This is the worst day of my life,” Hayden whispered, shaking his head when Jackie shushed him again.

“I think I’d like to take a look at that folder,” Shane said and Ilya instantly handed it over, stepping closer as he did so.

“I think we’d all like to take a peek,” Rose said, herding them all toward the living room. “And maybe have some tea? Sit down? Chat a while?”

“Good idea,” Jackie agreed as she nudged Hayden forward. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

Shane sat down on the couch and opened the folder. Ilya stayed standing, the picture of calm, but Shane caught a glimpse of his fingers twitching nervously at his side. “Sit with me,” he said, patting the cushion beside him and Ilya quickly took a seat. Rose perched on the armchair while Hayden stayed standing, glaring at Ilya. Shane ignored him. He had more pressing things to focus on.

Ilya’s folder was thick. It started with Ilya’s basic biographical information. Then his whole hockey resume, as if Shane didn’t have all of those stats memorized. Still nice to see them laid out like that though. Almost as impressive as his own. Next was a photo set of Ilya’s house?

“I tagged best spots for reading and relaxing,” Ilya said, reaching over to point out a few sticky note flags on the pages. Shane nodded, making sure to take a closer look.

After that, a collection of recipes, a huge section of reference letters, and then a page labeled special skills? Shane paused at that one…and then quickly closed the folder with a snap.

“Maybe read that part later,” Ilya murmured and Shane nodded furiously.

“Yup, I will, uh, definitely, um, do that,” Shane agreed, a blush already heating up his cheeks.

Rose leaned forward with a wicked smile. “Well, now I wanna see—”

“No,” Hayden blurted out, throwing his hands up. “No! This is crazy. Shane, we need to talk about this because fuckin’ Rozanov? Really?”

“Fucking?” Ilya only raised an eyebrow at Shane. “Not yet, but maybe, yes? Probably? Hopefully.”

“Oh. My god.” Hayden scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t believe this.”

“No point in being jealous, Pike,” Ilya said with a mild little shrug. “You already married out of your league. Lightning will not hit you again.”

“Lightning won’t strike twice,” Shane offered, earning a smile from Ilya.

“Yes, that.”

“I’m not jealous,” Hayden exclaimed. “I just—”

“Hayden!” Jackie called from the kitchen. “Come help me make tea.” Hayden stalked off, grumbling, casting dire looks over his shoulder at Ilya as he went.

Just as Shane was about to apologize, the front gate buzzer went off again. What now?

“Are you expecting anyone else?” Rose asked and Shane shook his head.

“I literally didn’t even invite anyone who is currently in this house,” he said. “I have no idea who that is.”

“I’ll go check,” Rose volunteered as she hopped up and headed to the door.

This was turning into the weirdest friggin’ day. Good. But weird.

But good.

Shane turned back to Ilya, smile faltering a bit when he noticed him frowning down at the folder in Shane’s hands. “What’s wrong?” He ignored whatever conversation was happening with Rose and the front gate to focus on Ilya.

“Nothing.” Ilya startled slightly before giving Shane a small smile. “Just sorry that I came uninvited. I should have asked but I…” He shook his head, huffing out a quiet laugh. “I did not want to give you a chance to say no.”

“I might have,” Shane said, surprising himself with that level of honesty. “I didn’t think you were interested in me like this at all.” He shuffled closer to Ilya on the couch, letting their knees touch. “I don’t know if I would have let myself believe you so showing up was probably the best idea.”

“Yeah?” Ilya stilled.

“Yeah,” Shane nodded, letting himself stare at Ilya for a moment. He’d never had a chance to be this close to him anywhere that wasn’t the ice or some kind of MHL event and he’d feel weirder about taking advantage of it if it wasn’t for Ilya staring back just as intently.

“I like your freckles,” Ilya said, earning a laugh out of Shane.

“Thank you,” he said. “I like your—” Everything. “Uh, presentation.” He tapped the folder on his lap. “It looks like you put a lot of work into this.”

Those eyes never left Shane’s face. “Was worth it.”

Hoo boy. Shane was in trouble. Of course, Rose chose that exact moment to call out his name.

“Can you come here for a sec?”

Oh, right. Someone at the gate. Maybe it was a delivery that needed his signature specifically? Shane tried to remember if he’d ordered anything lately as he headed toward the front door.

“Don’t freak out,” Rose whispered as he got there and that was all the warning he got before she opened the door to reveal six hockey players standing on his front step.

Each one with a brightly coloured folder clutched in his hands.

Yeah, no, he was going to freak out.

Chapter End Notes

😂❤️

Chapter three is coming! Just have to finish stuff for work first. But it's coming!

This fic is rebloggable!

Chapter 3: Chapter Three

Chapter Summary

Shane has folders to read. Ilya has plays to make. Jackie has wine.

Chapter Notes

Sorry for the delay on this one, my friends, and thank you so much for your patience! Work and summer visits with family took over my schedule, but here is a new chapter for you!

Also, I realized that I have too much story for 3 chapters so you will notice a chapter count change. I put it at five for now, but let's be real. I'm not actually in charge here. Please join me on this crack-filled shenanigan ship for a while longer.

Meanwhile, back in the living room…

***

Ilya

These fuckers.

Ilya peered down the hallway as discreetly as he could, glaring at the crowd of intruders.

What the fuck were they doing here? How did they know he would be here? Only two people knew about his plan and Sveta was a vault so that left…

“Marly,” Ilya growled under his breath. The sting of betrayal burned through his blood. His best friend? Sabotaging Ilya’s one true chance at happiness? What was Marly thinking?

Wait.

This was Marly.

Thinking probably hadn’t entered into it.

Smothering a sigh, Ilya dragged a hand over his face as he pulled out his phone.

***

Marly

Who did you tell about my plan?

What? Nobody!
Why would I tell anyone?
You made me pinky swear three times.

***

Hm. That was true. And a pinky swear to Marly was basically a blood oath.

But the word had gotten out somehow. Ilya stealthily took a photo of the situation at the front door and sent it.

***

Marly

Someone found out.
Now I must deal with assholes
while I woo my Shane.

What? That’s crazy!
I don’t know how th

?
Finish sentence.
Don’t know how what?
Marly???

Okay.
So.
Don’t get mad.
But.

Just fucking tell me.

So, one time I was talking with you
about the plan while I was at the gym
and the rook was there and he might
have maybe overheard something…

Anderson?
Tiny baby rookie?
BETRAYED ME???

Don’t do anything crazy.
I’m sure there’s an explanation.
Bud? Buddy?
Roz
well, fuck

***

After everything he’d done for the kid, this was how he repaid him?

Absolutely not. No, thank you.

Ilya sent the same picture of the door situation to Anderson the Betrayer.

***

Tiny Rookie Betrayer

Why do you not want your Captain to be happy?

***

Seconds later, Ilya’s phone rang and he moved to the far side of the living room to take it, staying silent as he answered.

“Cap? You there?” Anderson’s hesitant voice wavered through the speaker.

“Yes, I am waiting for my explanation,” Ilya said quietly, although he couldn’t fathom what an acceptable one would even be. “Why have you betrayed me, your most amazing Captain, in such a cruel way?”

“It’s not—I didn’t betray you,” Anderson said, sounding nearly offended which was pretty rich from where Ilya was standing.

“Telling idiot hockey players about my plan and letting them stomp all over it is not a betrayal?”

“No, I’m helping you.”

Ilya snorted at that.

“I am,” Anderson insisted. “Look, these guys were going to make their play for Hollander no matter what. You know none of them are as good as you or would be as good a fit with Hollander, but they’re still going to try, right?”

“So, you make sure it’s same day as me? How is that helping?”

“No, listen, exactly! Your plan is good, but what’s always been there between the two of you?” Anderson’s voice sped up with excitement and Ilya’s brain was working overtime to parse out exactly what he was saying.

Hockey? That’s been their whole lives…but what did Anderson mean…between them…

Ah.

“Competition,” Ilya murmured.

“Yes! Exactly,” the little shit cheered. “It’s basically a love language between you two. So, now you get to show Hollander that you’re interested and crush the competition while you’re at it.” Ilya could picture his pleased little smile through the pause. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Ilya hung up.

He’d thank him properly later with bag skates and a new car, but first, he had a game plan to revise. He was already a better player than these idiots, but Ilya would prove he was the better boyfriend choice as well.

Anderson was right about one thing.

He would crush them.

***

Meanwhile, over in Boston…

***

Anderson

Will grinned at his phone, more than a little bit pleased with himself despite just being hung up on by his captain and most definitely facing a few brutal practices once they were back on the ice. Still…

Definitely worth it.

Roz always worked best when he was showing off for Hollander and this was going to be that dialed up to like, a million. They better name their first child after him. Fur or human, Will wasn’t picky.

The rest of the chat was going to be pissed at him if they ever figured out he’d been a double agent all along. But everything was fair in love and war or whatever.

Man, he’d love to see their faces right now. The whole thing was going to be hilarious to watch. Fournier, Heinonen, and Delandre’ll probably give Roz at least a bit of a challenge, but the others were going to be toast. Even T…

Will’s stomach twisted as he thought about his best friend making a play for Hollander. He wanted Eli to be happy—of course, he did. He just—the more they’d talked about ‘the plan’ and what Eli could do to make Hollander notice him, the worse Will felt.

Honestly, it was so stupid. He really had no business being jealous when they’d already decided back when they were sixteen that they were better off as friends. It wasn’t Eli’s fault that he’d spent the next five years falling even further in love with him.

What was Will compared to THE Shane Hollander, anyway?

“The math ain’t mathing,” he muttered to himself. He sighed as he headed for his kitchen to hunt down something sweet enough drown his sorrows, but detoured to his door when someone knocked. Probably one of his neighbours—

Will blinked as he looked through the peephole, stepping back to shake his head before taking another peek.

No, that was definitely Eli Tiero at his door.

“I can hear you moving,” Eli’s muffled voice came through the wood. “Open up!”

What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at Hollander’s, making his move? When did he get here? Why was he here? How was Will supposed to take this? Was he—

“Please stop freaking out and just let me in.”

Will nodded to himself. Yeah, that was—he should do that. He took a slow, steadying breath and opened the door. “H-hey, man. How’s it going?”

“Hey, yourself,” Eli said. He stepped inside as Will moved back, smiling a bit before chewing on his lip and cracking his knuckles on one hand. If Will didn’t know better, he’d say Eli was nervous—wait, he did know better. He knew Eli better than anyone. 

Eli was totally nervous.

…why was he nervous? Why was he here?

“What, uh, what happened to the woo Shane Hollander plan?” Will asked, leading them back toward the kitchen. He definitely still needed a snack and something to do with his freaking hands.

“Oh, that,” Eli huffed out a laugh as he raked a hand through his hair. He always let it go long in the off season. It looked so good and Will always thought he should keep it…

So not the point right now. Focus, Will.

“Yeah, that,” Will said, raising an eyebrow at Eli. “Today’s the big day, right? Pretty sure you’re in the wrong city right now, bud.”

“Yeah, well, I had a talk with Hunter and he kind of helped me realize some things,” Eli said, taking a step closer, blocking Will into the corner against the cupboards. “Things I was afraid to look too closely at because I didn’t want to mess it all up.”

Will’s heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest. Was he saying what Will thought he was saying? “So, you don’t want—” Shane Hollander? You want me? For real? Finally? Will cleared his throat. “You don’t want to be in, uh, in Montreal, right now?”

Eli shook his head, taking another step to crowd into Will’s space, bracing a hand on the counter on either side of him. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Oh. Will couldn’t stop the stupid grin from spreading across his face as his cheeks heated up. “I didn’t want you to be anywhere else,” he admitted, closing the last bit of distance between them.

…Will was going to have to send Scott Hunter the biggest thank you basket.

***

MEANWHILE, back at Shane’s front door…

***

Shane

He blinked, but the six hockey players were still crowded together on his front step.

What on earth was happening?

Six MHL players, all of them near the top of the league, all of them clutching brightly coloured folders in their hands, and all of them staring at him with a weighted air of anticipation.

“What do you guys want?” He ignored the little pinch Rose gave his side. This situation was too weird and confusing for him to put any energy into being polite. “What are you doing—” He blew out a breath as he waved a hand at their little folders. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

The six of them exchanged looks before Greg MacGregor—yes, that was his name—stepped forward. Apparently, he was the leader of whatever all of this was.

“We heard that Roz was making his bid and we just wanted a chance to make ours.” MacGregor nodded his head decisively, a determined set to his admittedly nice jawline. Shane had noticed how attractive the Edmonton left winger was ever since he’d been letting himself notice, but he never thought he’d been noticed in return. That was kind of nice—

Wait.

“What do you mean ‘make your bid?’ Bid for what?” He genuinely needed an explanation, right the fuck now.

“To date you,” MacGregor said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ve all been paying attention to the Boyfriend Checklist.”

That freaking hashtag.

“And we all think we fit the requirements,” MacGregor continued like Shane’s brain wasn’t currently exploding. “Listen, Hollander, I know it’s…unusual, but we heard Roz was going to show up and you know, it’s Rozanov. We thought we should come too so we could at least have a shot before it was too late.”

“Will you?” Jake Delandre, captain of the Carolina Storm piped up with a ridiculously cute and hopeful smile. “Give us a chance?”

“Do it, do it, do it! For meeeeeeeee.” Rose whispered right in his ear and he flapped a hand at her, hidden safely behind the door.

This day was already weirder than he could have ever imagined.

And the thing was—they really did fit the ‘checklist’ for the most part. It would probably be unfair of him to not at least hear them out, right? Maybe? Did people interview for boyfriends? Wasn’t that just what dating was and this was kind of streamlining the process?

Maybe he should let them in. For efficiency’s sake.

…on the other hand, there was Rozanov.

Ilya.

The man who had occupied so many of Shane’s thoughts that he, if Shane was truly being honest, had accidently built a whole boyfriend wishlist around.

Was it crazy to entertain the idea of anyone else when Ilya was right there?

Shane imagined sending them all away and his brain instantly conjured up an image of Ilya looking smug as hell which was as annoying as it was hot.

He’d be all ‘you know what’s best for you, Hollander.’ Shane would never hear the end of it.

Then he remembered what Ilya’s face looked like under the pressure of some competition…

“Sure, come on in,” he said, stepping back with a smile. “Shoes on the mat please and I’ll take those folders. Head on through to the living room.”

Rose vibrated with excitement beside him and he waited until the guys were all gone before turning to her. “What is happening?” he whispered frantically.

She grabbed his free hand in hers, bouncing them both gently. “I don’t know,” she whispered back gleefully. “But I love this for you. And for me. It’s highly entertaining.” She poked her pointy little fingers into his side again. “Go. Go, go, go.”

“Stop that,” he hissed. “I’m going. I’m going!” He headed toward the living room with Rose hot on his heels. Jackie was busy texting while Hayden stared at Ilya who was staring down the six guys standing together, broad shoulder to broader shoulder, on the other side of the coffee table.

Everyone turned to look his way at once and that was—wow, that was a lot. He froze, taking in the scene, brain already cataloging and calculating like he was out on the ice.

Left to right…

Greg MacGregor, Edmonton left winger. Had really improved his power play this season.

Luke Culver, L.A. centre. Had seventy-six points this season, but was kind of a puck hog.

Anatoly Agapov, centre for Colorado. Probably next in line for captain over there. Solid player who kept finding new depth.

Onni Heinonen, centre and Washington captain. Incredible speed for his size. Shane had not not noticed his thighs on occasion.

Theo Fournier, Pittsburgh captain, left winger, and master of a truly beautiful slap shot. Truly beautiful grin too when he had his bridge in.

Jake Delandre, right winger and captain of a solidly rebuilding Carolina team. Shane had played with the guy during a few All-Stars games and during the Olympics and he was…he was just fun. A great player, but also a guy who helped everyone remember why they were there.

Six impressive players on one side of the room. And on the other…Ilya Rozanov.

Ilya freaking Rozanov. Centre. Boston Captain. Beautiful player.

Beautiful everything.

How did he end up with this level of choice in front of him? Was choice the word? Applicants? Suitors? No, ew, that was weird. Shane choked back a slightly hysterical giggle.

Oh, god, what the hell had he been thinking, why was he even entertaining this, what was wrong with him, how—

Rose’s hand slipped into his and gave it a quick, tight squeeze, like she was willing her pep talk into him through sheer force. He could hear her voice in his brain, knew exactly what she’d say:

You’re Shane Hollander. They’re here for you, not the other way around. Remember what I said?

Make them work for it.

 Have some fun.

 And relax, for fuck’s sake.

Right. Shane nodded and Rose squeezed his hand again. He could do this. She was right—these guys, all seven of them, came here for him and that was kind of insanely flattering when he really thought about it.

His other arm tightened around the folders he had gripped in it. At the very least, he needed to see their applications. Maybe they had ‘special skills’ lists too. No, wait. Don’t think about that.

Biting back a smile, Shane motioned for everyone to find a place. “Have a seat, wherever you want,” he said as he took one of the lounge chairs. Rose immediately perched on the arm and took the pile of folders from him.

“Let’s start with…Greg MacGregor,” she said, rifling through to pass him a bright blue duotang.

He flipped open the cover…

And then the gate buzzer went off again.

“Seriously?” Shane flopped back in his chair. Who else could possibly be here?

“Ah, sorry,” Ilya piped up from where he stood on the far side of the room. “That is for me, I think.” He shrugged at the questioning glances that got him. “I thought lunch would be good, but I did not want to use all of Shane’s food since we are so many. I ordered groceries.”

“What? Lunch? You’re cooking?” Shane repeated, trying to not sound as breathless as the idea made him feel.

“He actually cooks!” Rose whispered and he tried to mutter at her to shut up without moving his lips.

Ilya paused on the way to the door. “We are good? You do not mind?”

“No, yeah, uh, that’s a—that’s a great idea,” Shane said, forgetting how many times he’d already nodded and nodding one more time just in case. “Thank you.”

“I’ll help!” Jackie called out as she trotted after him, a grim-looking Hayden close behind.

That definitely had potential to go sideways. Maybe he should—

“Let it play out,” Rose whispered. “We’ll see what he’s made of.”

She had a point. If Ilya was willing to be in close quarters with Jackie and Hayden and managed to cook something while no doubt getting interrogated, well…

Shane kinda wanted to see him do it.

Rose poked him again. Oh, yeah. Folders.

“Okay, who’s up first—right. Greg. Hm. I like your paper choice.”

***

Ilya

Shane’s voice followed him down the hall along with Pike’s lovely wife and unfortunately, Pike.

“I don’t know what you think you’re up to, Rozanov—”

“I told you, groceries,” Ilya said, shooting Pike a lazy smile as he pressed the button to let the delivery driver through the gate.

“You can’t just order food here and let deliveries in like you live here—”

“What? I should use up all of Shane’s food? Or I should let people go hungry? So rude, Pike.”

Ilya had been trying to focus on his own moves, on staying calm, so lunch seemed like a good plan. Something to focus on and something to help Shane all at the same time.

Getting to poke at Pike while he was at it didn’t hurt. Actually, that was easing his nerves more than anything, so it was a win-win situation.

After tipping the delivery driver for her troubles, Ilya waved off Jackie Pike’s offers to help carry the bags (and Pike’s grumbles), taking the entire load to the kitchen himself.

“What is all of this?” Pike asked, sticking his nose into every single bag that Ilya set down. “What are you going to make? You know Shane has a special diet, right? You have to know what he can eat before you go commandeering his kitchen like this.”

“Ooh. Com-man-deer. Big word, Pike. Jackie teach you that?” Ilya waggled his eyebrows at Jackie who was rolling her eyes at the both of them. “Wow. Beautiful and smart. How—”

“Fuck. Off. Rozanov.”

Ilya held up a hand at Pike’s tone—needling was fun, but he didn’t want this to devolve into a fight that pulled Shane away from the process of eliminating the ‘competition.’

“Yes, I know about the special diet, okay?” As if Ilya hadn’t done his own research. He pulled a package of salmon filets out of one of the bags to brandish at Pike. “See? I have a plan. Relax.”

“Ilya’s got this covered, hun,” Jackie said, pulling out two wineglasses from the cupboard. She made quick work of filling them high and passing one over to Pike, kissing his cheek as she settled onto the counter stool beside him. “Let the man work.”

Jackie Pike. Definitely beautiful and smart. Definitely too good for her husband.

Shooting her a grin, Ilya did exactly as she said.

***

Jackie

Jackie was having a fantastic day.

It had already started out great—her parents had the kids, she and Hayden had finally managed some alone time, and then Rose called them up with the idea of surprise brunch at Shane’s.

Perfect! Lovely. A wonderful way to spend their afternoon.

And then, Ilya Rozanov showed up with all of his Ilya Rozanov-ness, declaring his intentions toward Shane. Delightful. No notes. Then—and THEN—six more…suitors, she was absolutely calling them suitors from here on out—they showed up and now things were getting deliciously interesting.

Thank god, Shane kept wine here for guests. They were going to make a dent in it today.

“So, Ilya,” she began, ready to tease out any information she could when Greg MacGregor crowded into the kitchen, instantly ruining the vibe. Rude.

Minus one point for Greg MacGregor.

“I’m here to help with lunch,” he said, glowering at Ilya who was making tidy work of trimming up the salmon.

“Mm, no,” Ilya said. “You can sit and drink wine with Jackie and Pike. That is rule. Only one cook in the kitchen, da?”

“I’m not going to stand around while you do all the work and get all the glory, Rozanov,” MacGregor said, poking through the vegetables on the counter. “I’ll make the salad.”

While there was a certain bit of logic there, Jackie wasn't quite sure that salad was going to give him the kind of glory he was looking for. Although, this was Shane so maybe this would work out for him. Kind of a toss-up, really.

Ilya paused in his work, sending a slow sideways look at MacGregor. “Why are you here?”

“I told you, I’m helping—”

“No, why are you here,” Ilya squinted at him. “You have, uh, what is the phrase?” He slid a look at Jackie, straight-faced, but with a glimmer of ‘little shit’ in his eye. Ilya nodded to himself, turning back to MacGregor. “Oh, ah…humiliation kink, yes?”

She barely managed to avoid snorting into her wine.

“You are such a fuckin’ asshole,” MacGregor shook his head—admirably, Jackie had to admit, not rising further to the bait as he went to grab a knife out of the block.

“Eh, eh—” Ilya shook his head, jerking his chin toward the sink. “Wash your hands.”

“I was—” MacGregor took a deep breath before heading to the sink to do so. “You’re not going to irritate me out the door, man, so give it up.”

Jackie wasn’t too sure about that. If they were placing bets, she was leaning towards putting her money on Ilya. Ooh, she should grab Rose so they could come up with a chart…

“I’ve got the better question,” Hayden said, leaning against the counter as he narrowed his eyes at Ilya. “How about why are you here? If it’s to mess with Shane, I swear—”

Jackie put a hand on his knee and gave it a light squeeze. It was a good question, a valid one, obviously, but there were better ways to go about sussing out the answer.

“Pike.” Ilya put down his knife and leveled a look back at Hayden. There was no snark in his tone. No smirk on his lips either. “I came to make my interest known to Shane,” he said, steady and even. “I did not expect—” He waved a hand toward the living room. “—all of this, but Hollander’s process is Hollander’s process.”

He tamped down a fond little grin and Jackie realized suddenly, oh, he’s smitten smitten…

That was most of her questions answered right there. Oh! Yay for Shane!

Ilya faltered for half a second, glancing at her curiously before focusing back on Hayden. “I will be the one left at the end of the day because I am best boyfriend…best partner for Shane,” he continued. “And the rest of that discussion will be between me and him.”

Mm. Yes. Jackie definitely liked him. Man, she was good at this. She always picked the winning guy on the Bachelorette too.

Wait.

Should she become a matchmaker? Hm. Much to think about there. Ilya topped up her wine with a wink and she winked back, ignoring Hayden’s betrayed puppy dog eyes.

A rapid knock on the front door and then quick footsteps down the front hall had her leaning sideways on her stool to catch a peek at who else could possibly have shown up today.

“Oh, yay! Yuna and David are here!”

All three guys in the kitchen froze while Jackie was already hopping off her stool to grab two more wine glasses.

Best day ever just got even better.

Chapter End Notes

Next chapter - our first suitor bites the dust. Who's it gonna be??

Thanks for reading! Yell with me in the comments about these goofballs! :D

This fic is rebloggable!

Chapter 4: Chapter Four

Chapter Summary

One competitor fails before the game even begins and Shane starts to get into the spirit of things.

Chapter Notes

Hi! Apologies for the wait! I have a full time job and a part time job and they've both been crazy. Happy to have a chance to get back to this though! Enjoy! :D

David

As soon as Jackie texted, Yuna and David sprang into action, like they did in any given Situation™. After over thirty years together, both of them knew their roles well.

Yuna handled the questions and the hunting down of answers while David took care of the practicalities. He steered her toward the front door as she tapped away on her phone, then he locked up behind them as she muttered at the screen, and finally, he bundled her into the car and drove off at an acceptably speedy pace. She never looked up, always trusting him to get them where they needed to be. Which he did, making the eleven minutes drive in a brisk nine.

Immediately after arriving at Shane’s house, currently Situation™ Central and absolutely where they needed to be, Yuna peeled away toward the living room, already taking names and rifling through…duotangs?

Whatever bits of information he’d managed to glean from her as she’d been texting with Jackie—something about boyfriend applications and an ambush and the Bachelor—none of it had properly prepared him for what on earth all of this was. David peered further into the room, eyeing the crowd of professional hockey players waiting patiently as Shane, Rose, and Yuna read diligently through the folders. He was immensely curious over what these boys had put in their ‘applications’, but he’d get his chance to read later. He had more pressing things to see to.

First was a kid check.

These days, Shane was pretty good about speaking up if he needed space, but these were unusual circumstances and David was willing to step in if need be. Mindful not to draw any extra attention, David took careful stock, looking for any of the usual red flags that Shane was reaching his limit. No knee jiggling or fidgeting. No rapid blinking. Just an intense, focused calm that meant he was happy as a clam.

Okay, then. Best if he focused on his next usual Situation™ task. Feed people.

David made his way toward the kitchen, already mentally mapping out what was most likely in the fridge and what he could do with it. His brain was so wrapped up in planning that it took him a few seconds to actually register the scene before him.

Ilya Rozanov was in Shane’s kitchen.

Ilya Rozanov was in Shane’s kitchen, wearing David’s apron—well, the apron he always claimed, but still.

Ilya Rozanov was in Shane’s kitchen, wearing David’s apron, and cooking.

That was…

Huh.

It was something alright. David probably needed to mull on it a bit longer to decide what exactly that something was.

“Hey, kids,” he said, nodding at Rozanov, plus Hayden and Jackie and another player—Mac…Michael? MacInnis? MacGregor, that was it. David headed to the sink to wash his hands since he intended to get thoroughly involved here. “What are we making?”

“Ah, Mr. Hollander, hello,” Rozanov said, bobbing his head back at David with a tight little smile. If it was anyone else, David would say the kid looked nervous, but he had a hard time thinking anything could shake Ilya Rozanov.

“I am making salmon bowls for everyone,” Rozanov continued, his smile turning more toward a smirk. There he was. “And MacGregor is mangling salad we did not need.”

David ignored MacGregor’s grumbling to take a peek over at the cutting board and to be fair, the boy was rage-chopping some carrots to absolute bits. The salmon bowls, however, were coming along beautifully—and perfectly in line with Shane’s meal plan. Someone did their research.

Jackie caught David’s eye, mouthing ‘I love him’ at him over the rim of her wine glass. Hayden was too busy glaring at Rozanov to catch it, but David shot her a wink. Jackie’s approval was certainly a checkmark in Rozanov’s favour. He’d have to get her thoughts on MacGregor later.

“Well, it all looks delicious,” David said, smiling at the four of them. “I can—”

“Are you serious?” A raised voice from the living room caught his attention—not one that he recognized, but clearly Hayden, Rozanov, and MacGregor did given the way they all snapped to attention.

Rozanov moved first, abandoning the sauce he was meticulously crafting in favour of striding toward the commotion and David followed, hot on his heels. He wasn’t so old that he couldn’t boot someone to the curb, if need be. Probably. He had a feeling Rozanov would help which he counted as another secret little check in the plus column.

He let Rozanov head in first, just to see how things played out…

***

Ilya

A voice in the back of his brain was telling him he should be embarrassed about charging toward the living room like this, but he’d heard the sharp tones and his feet moved before he could stop himself. Some habits you never grew out of.

As he walked inside, he carefully catalogued everyone in the room, clocking Culver first since he seemed to be at the centre of things. The man was planted in front of the coffee table, arms crossed and face red as he sputtered like a broken kettle. Ilya made eye contact with Delandre, thinking he was also at the ready from where he stood behind Culver, but got an eye roll in return.

Okay, maybe not so serious then…  

The other players looked varying degrees of awkward to amused and Ilya’s gaze slid over to the couch where Rose Landry was definitely trying to hide a smile. The buzzing in his ears finally faded out as he laid eyes on both Mrs. Hollander and Shane who seemed more annoyed than anything else.

“I know what I’m talking about,” Shane said, holding up the green duotang in his hand. “And it’s wrong, man.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Culver spat out. He dragged a hand through his hair as he huffed. “I got seventy-eight—”

“Seventy-five—”

“You can’t possibly have everyone’s stats memorized!” Culver threw his arms up at Shane’s correction and the room fell silent which made Ilya’s snort all the more noticeable.

“What?” He shrugged when everyone turned to him. “Is ridiculous, no?” Ilya jerked a nod in Culver’s direction. “Do you not know anything about the man you say you want to date? Durak. Of course, Hollander knows everyone’s stats. This is why he is Hollander.”

“Oh, hey, it is seventy-five, eh,” Fournier said, holding up his phone. “Fact.”

“Well, then,” Mrs. Hollander said, neatly taking the folder from Shane and handing it back to Culver. “I think that’s settled.”

Culver gripped the file in his hands and shook his head. “Okay, so I fudged it a little bit,” he said. “I’m sorry! I was nervous. I wanted to look good.”

As if a true contender would need to lie. Ugh. Ilya had never liked that guy. Nice to know his gut instinct was one hundred percent correct as always.

“Culver,” Shane said. “I’m sorry you felt that way, but lying right from the start isn’t going to work for me. I have to say no.”

“What? Just like that?” Culver’s mouth set in a way that spoke to Ilya of more red flags to come. Shane made the right choice.

“Culver, you do not get a rose,” Jackie intoned from her spot behind the couch and Rose raised her hand up for a high five. She caught Ilya’s grin and winked at him.

He knew he liked Jackie Pike. See? One hundred percent always correct.

***

Shane

A rose? What? He really didn’t need this day to be more confusing.

“Okay, I don’t know what that means, but yeah, just like that. Sorry, man.” Shane shrugged at Culver, not sure what else he could offer a guy who thought he could lie about his points from last season. “I might still be figuring out what I want, but I know what I definitely don’t want,” he said. “You’re, uh, you’re welcome to stay for lunch though. If you want to?”

That was good, right? That was a nice way to let someone down. He slid a look over at Rose who gave him a subtle little nod. Okay. Good.

Culver turned even redder as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Is it okay if I stay for the rest of it too? It’s just—we all kind of carpooled over here.”

“That’s true,” Heinonen said with a nod. Shane was grateful for the confirmation even if the whole thing was a bit odd.

“Like, together? You all came in one car?”

“There was a mix-up at the rental place,” MacGregor explained, eyebrows drawn together in disgust. “The guy at the desk had no explanation for it and all he had available was some ancient van so we just drove together. It stalled three times. I’m not even sure it’ll make the drive back.”

Ilya made a weird noise at that, but his face was totally blank when Shane looked over at him. “I guess it’s fine,” he said. How long could this take anyway? He’d read through the folders. Maybe they were all planning to make a pitch after lunch? He could deal with that.

His mom set the folders she’d been making notes in down on the coffee table and then reached for Ilya’s—oh, shit—

“Ah, just give me a second with that one,” he said, snatching it out of her reach. “There was a section I wanted to go over and then you can—hey, isn’t lunch ready? It smells great. We should eat. Should we go outside, do you think?”

She squinted at him for a moment, but Shane could see the wheels of organization already turning in her brain. “That’s the only way we’ll be able to fit everyone. The picnic tables will work. We certainly have enough hands to bring all of the food out—if everyone could come with me—”

Shane let his mom herd the small horde of hockey players and turned to Rose, hiding Ilya’s folder between the two of them. There were some things a parent didn’t need to see. “I need you to take this and hide it in my room,” Shane whispered, carefully removing the special skills page and discreetly handing it over.

Rose’s eyebrows went up as she skimmed the page. “It’s a good thing you do yoga,” she whispered back, giggling when Shane shushed her.

“Could you please just—”

“I’m going! Relax! I’ve got this. Go tend to your men.” She folded the page up and quietly left the room, leaving Shane to…tend to his men? He really should, in a way—he didn’t just want to have a good boyfriend. Shane wanted to be a good boyfriend too.

“Uh, has everyone got enough to eat?” He hopped up from the couch. “Should we make burgers?”

“Is fine, Shane,” Ilya said, thrusting a bowl into his hands as soon as he stepped into the kitchen. “Plenty of food for everyone. Go. Sit. Enjoy.”

Suddenly, he found himself ushered outside by Ilya and seated at the picnic tables with everyone else, Rose joining them shortly after. It seemed like Ilya’s claim of plenty to go around was accurate, judging by the heaping bowl or plate in front of every person.

Ilya settled into the spot across from him and nodded at Shane’s bowl. “Try it. Eat.”

Right. He hadn’t even looked at what he’d been given before heading out here. Shane peered down at his meal, pleasantly surprised to realize it was all things he could eat without calculating the effect it would have on his plan. He took a bite, letting out a happy little hum. It actually tasted good too. Wait, that was suspicious—

“All approved things in the sauce,” Ilya murmured, eyes tracking Shane’s movements, catching the hesitation. “I double checked. Is good, yes?”

“Very,” Shane said, taking another bite. “Thank you.” The pleased-slash-smug look he got in return was one he used to seeing on the ice, but definitely didn’t mind seeing here either. Kind of wanted to see it again, if he was honest with himself.  

…and that was a thought Shane could examine later, once he had his house to himself again.

But also, maybe with Rose for dissection purposes.

“—don’t you think so, honey?” His mom’s voice broke him out of his thoughts and he turned to her.

“Sorry, what?”

“I was saying that I think we should give some structure to—” She waved a hand across the group. “All of this. Don’t you think? Figure out how we want to proceed?”

“Why not use Shane’s list as a guide,” Ilya suggested. “It has worked so far.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” she nodded. “It seems like everyone meets the basic requirements. Even if they’re not all captains.”

“That wasn’t a requirement,” MacGregor was quick to point out which was true. He was still an All-Star last year and so was Agapov so that counted.

“I seem to recall,” Rose said, resting her chin on her hand as she looked around the tables, “that one of the requirements was to be hot which I personally think you all are, but we know my opinion doesn’t really matter in this situation.” She grinned at him. Like she wasn’t about to be evil. “What do you think, Shane? Do you find them all attractive enough?”

Shane was going to miss having a best friend considering Rose was dead to him now.

“Yup. They’re fine.”

“Fine is generous when it comes to some of these broken noses, Hollander,” Ilya said with a wink. “The list—one of the things was strength, yes? Best boyfriend should be able to bench press your weight, you said.”

Right. That was—that was definitely something he’d said. He willed himself not to think of Ilya bench-pressing his weight while he was seated at a table with his parents and his best friend and—

“Hang on,” Jackie said, smacking Hayden’s arm as she stood up. “Hang. On. I’ve got the best idea ever. We need to go full Bachelor.”

“What? Right now?” Hayden shook his head. “We’d need way more time to organize—”

“No, no, we can do it,” she insisted, pointing at Rose who was nodding with a disturbing level of enthusiasm.

“I don’t know what any of this mean,” Shane said, trying not to sound too aggrieved about it, but seriously, what the hell were they talking about?

“It’s like a competition,” Jackie said. “We’ll use your list to set up the activities and eliminate a potential suitor each round.”

That didn’t sound horrible. It actually sounded pretty efficient. “What would we do for the activities?” He wracked his brain, trying to figure out how his list could translate.

“Weight-lifting is round one,” Jackie said with a nod, already tapping away on her phone.

“I mean, compatibility, right? That should be up there,” Hayden said. “I don’t know how you’d figure that out though…”

“Oh, we can do one of those games!” Rose bounced in her seat. “They always make us do them on press tours. The one where everyone writes down their answers to a question and you see who gets the same one. We can ask questions about things that Shane likes and see who matches!”

“Nice,” Jackie agreed, jotting that down.

“You said hockey knowledge,” Delandre piped up from the end of the table. “Maybe a quiz or something?”

“Yuna?” Jackie turned to his mom who was already pulling out her own phone.

“On it.”

If his mom was in charge of the quiz, that would definitely weed people out. Part of Shane felt like he should be chiming in more himself, but he’d already made the freaking checklist. Plus, this wasn’t a bad test in and of itself to see how the guys dealt with his family.

Ilya, Delandre, Heinonen, and Fournier seemed to be getting into the discussion while Agapov mostly looked overwhelmed. MacGregor, meanwhile, was sitting silently as he stared down at his empty plate.

Maybe he’d had a different plan for how this day was going to go, but considering they’d all ambushed Shane with this, he should probably adjust his expectations.

“Hollander,” MacGregor said suddenly, head whipping up to stare intensely at Shane. “You have a home rink, right?”

“I do—”

“Final round,” MacGregor said. “Skills competition.”

“Like All-Stars? You want to lose at fastest skater again?” Ilya chirped.

“No, like, whoever is left at that point goes one-on-one with Hollander and we see who survives the best,” MacGregor shot back.

Shane had a feeling he knew exactly how that would go, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to see how it played out. “Okay,” he said. “Sounds like a plan.”

***

Yuna

Thank goodness she kept her hockey files on the cloud as well. She’d have this quiz pulled together in no time. “I told you this would come in handy.”

“That you did, dear,” David said, patting her knee. “I’ll go get us some paper.”

Excellent. She did not plan to go easy on these boys.

***

Rose

This was the best day of her life. No contest.

She’d won a Golden Globe and this was still the best.

…well, maybe tied.

Still! She’d been waiting ages for Shane to open up and let himself find happiness and while she didn’t expect it to happen in this particular scenario—she definitely wasn’t mad about it. In fact, she was sure that the right man for Shane was here today.

And his name might just rhyme with Bilya Brozanov—purely a gut instinct and her gut was never wrong—but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t have to work for it. Oh, and he was going to work. This competition was going to be epic.

She and Jackie had been having way too much fun texting this whole time and concocted the Bachelor plan shortly after the unexpected additional six hockey players arrived and they realized they could in fact manipulate the shit out of this situation. With love. They'd just had to wait for the perfect moment to deploy said plan and luckily, Shane went for it.

He deserved to have seven, wait, six—sorry about your luck, Culver, you liar—six hot hockey players fight for his attention because he was worth it and maybe witnessing this would drive that point home for him.

She and Jackie were going to help Shane set that romance bar high right from the start. Exactly as it should be. And also enjoy the hell out of themselves while they were at it. Win-win!

***

Shane

Things moved pretty quickly after lunch was done. Agapov, Fournier, and Heinonen assigned themselves the job of clean-up crew and tidied everything away to the kitchen.

Jackie and Rose took charge of the rest of the guys and directed them around the yard to set things up. His parents were scribbling out notes for the quiz Shane knew none of these guys were actually prepared for and he found himself watching the chaos unfold from the safe distance of the back patio.

Two ginger ales suddenly appeared as Hayden sidled in beside him and Shane accepted one with a quiet thanks.

“Sure you’re okay with all of this?” Hayden asked with a nod at the bustling backyard. “Because I can talk to Jackie. She’ll understand.” He paused, weighing that statement. “I mean, I’m pretty sure she would and if she didn’t, she would eventually. She just wants you to be happy, man. We all do.”

“I know,” Shane said, bumping his shoulder against Hayden’s. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure sure though? Because I can kick all of these guys out, no problem. I’ll show Rozanov the door right now, straight to his car—”

“Hayden,” Shane laughed. “It’s fine, I mean. It’s better than fine. I think—I think it’s going to be fun. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Hayden gave him a flat look. “You give the final rose to Rozanov and enter a contractual engagement with him that has to last a minimum of six months and we all have to put up with him in the meantime.”

“What is this show?” Honestly, the more details he heard, the more confused he was.

“We’d need a whole other afternoon for me to explain it to you,” Hayden said, huffing out a laugh. He shook his head before turning to face Shane, lowering his voice. “I really am serious though, man. If at any point, you want to call this quits, I’ll shut it down, no questions asked. All of these guys are fully capable of asking you out on their own, the regular way. If it stops being fun, you give me the nod and I’m there.”

“I appreciate that,” Shane said, tapping his can against Hayden’s. He waited until Hayden took a sip before adding, “Definitely not until after the weight-lifting competition though.”

“I hate you,” Hayden complained as he coughed the ginger ale out of his lungs. “In a loving, non-homophobic way.”

“Appreciate the clarification,” Shane said as he patted his back.

“Okay, boys,” Rose called out. “It’s go time.”

“Come on,” Hayden said, giving one last cough. “Let’s go get you a man.”

They headed down to the yard where chairs had been set up for the ‘judges’ section. Not that anyone aside from Shane was getting a vote, Jackie clarified for them, but colour commentary was allowed. Required, in fact. A slightly pouty Culver was seated with them, but Shane ignored him in favour of the much more exciting events at hand.

Rose strode out in front of the line-up of men wearing a silvery dress that sparkled in the afternoon sun. She must have pulled it from the stash of clothes she kept at his house, ‘in case of emergency.’

“Welcome,” she said, holding one of his whisks as a stand-in microphone, “to the first Shane Hollander Boyfriend Competition—”

“And last,” Ilya said immediately, staring directly at Shane.

“We’ll have to wait and see about that, but I like your energy, mister.” Rose pointed at him before turning back to the judging area with a flourish. “We have our contestants. We have our categories. And now…may the best boyfriend win.”

Chapter End Notes

I have this set at five chapters for now, but I might end up making it six if the final chapter is big enough to split into two. I want to have some fun with all of our remaining contestants. We'll see how it goes!

Who do you think is going next? Who's going to make it to the final round?

Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading this and for the lovely comments. It's been a ton of fun and hopefully you all enjoy the big finish!

Yap with me in the comments! Also! This fic is rebloggable!