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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Original Children of Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Parent Shane Hollander, Parent Ilya Rozanov, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, POV Shane Hollander, Fluff, Humor, Domestic Fluff, Ilya Rozanov is a Menace, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov in Love, Mild Sexual Content, Crack Treated Seriously, Kid Fic

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-09-11 Words: 1,525 Chapters: 1/1

one fell off and bumped their head

Summary

“Ilya?”

Ilya is splayed out on the floor, legs turned one way, and his body turned in the complete opposite direction. Zara’s body is perched over the edge of the bed, hands clutching the mattress as her tear-filled eyes stare down at her Papa,

Ilya’s right hand massages the side of his head as he slowly turns and blinks at Shane standing in the doorway.

“‘ello moya lyubov.”

“What happened?”

“Is it not obvious? I fell off the bed.”

 

OR:

Shane is woken up by a loud thud and fears their daughter has fallen off her new toddler bed. It turns out it was actually Ilya.

Notes

woke up at 3 in the morning with this idea and decided to run with it

as always it's longer than i expected it to be but it's mostly silly and fun so i hope you enjoy!

Shane is jolted awake by a loud thud followed by the shrill crying of their three-year-old daughter, Zara.

He leaps out of bed without a second thought, silently thanking his past self for pulling on a fresh pair of boxers last night despite Ilya’s incessant whining. Zara's room is just down the hall. Shane spirals as he races towards her door.

He knew they shouldn’t have moved her from her crib yet. Sure, all the parenting books suggested three was the perfect age to make the transition. And yeah, okay, Zara's made it a habit of scaling down the bars of the crib when they take too long to come get her during her afternoon nap, but that doesn’t mean a toddler bed with no guard rails was the right move.

Shane should have pushed for the guard rails. Or, at the very least, had the foresight to throw an extra pillow or two on the ground beside the bed to break her fall.

Fuck, her fall.

She probably hit her head so hard. His poor little girl. How could he let this happen? Her first concussion, and it’s because she rolled off a stupid toddler bed he knew she wasn’t ready for. What kind of father is he?

What’s the protocol for toddler concussions? Is it the same as the protocol for professional hockey players? Dammit, he’s going to have to try and keep Zara awake for a few hours. It’s going to throw off her whole sleep schedule, and they have an early morning practice tomorrow. Had an early morning practice tomorrow. There’s no way Shane is leaving Zara when she’s on concussion watch.

Maybe he can get her an appointment with her pediatrician. They can run some checks and make sure she didn’t do any damage. It’s a big fall for a three-year-old. Dammit, why didn’t he throw pillows down! He should have—

“Ilya?”

Ilya is splayed out on the floor, legs turned one way, and his body turned in the complete opposite direction. Zara's body is perched over the edge of the bed, hands clutching the mattress as her tear-filled eyes stare down at her Papa,

Ilya’s right hand massages the side of his head as he slowly turns and blinks at Shane standing in the doorway.

“‘ello moya lyubov.”

“What happened?”

“Is it not obvious? I fell off the bed.”

Shane has a lot of questions. First of which is why Ilya was even in the bed with her. They haven’t co-slept in over a year; not since the near squishing incident that left them both in a panic for three days.

He also wonders when Ilya left their bed and climbed in beside Zara. He didn’t hear her calling for them last night, not until a few minutes ago when the thud happened. And he knows for a fact Ilya passed out around 11:30, when he realized Shane wasn’t going to give in to his whining and succumb to the exhaustion from the day and the sex they just had.

And yet, the question he settles on:

“How?”

“Ah well, restless sleeping is apparently genetic,” Ilya says, slowly pushing himself up from the plush floral rug that has done nothing to break his fall. “She kicked me off.”

“I hurt Papa,” Zara wails, tossing herself back on the bed with enough force that Shane feels the need to Google if it’s possible to get a concussion from landing on a soft surface.

“Ah, no, no malen'kiy lepestok,” Ilya coos as he climbs back into the too-small bed. “You did not hurt, Papa. Papa has taken much worse falls. S’okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, still unsure as she carefully crawls into Ilya’s lap.

Ilya nods, but Zara still looks unconvinced.

“Why don’t you check for him?” Shane says, finally making his way into the room.

He considers sitting opposite Zara on the bed, but he’s pretty sure their combined weight would break the thing. Maybe they should have opted for a bigger size like Ilya suggested.

He settles on the floor right in front of them, knees digging into the rug. He’s going to pay for this in the morning, but right now it’s the only place he wants to be. Shane watches Zara push her small hands up until they’re cradling each cheek. Ilya follows her hand movements, turning his head left and right and then tilting it down.

“So, Doctor. What do you think?” Shane asks.

“No bruises. No bumps.” Zara confirms, nodding as she lets Ilya’s head go.

“S’good news!” Ilya says, nuzzling his head into the crown of her unruly bedhead. 

Zara pulls away slightly, her brows furrowing as her face scrunches in concentration. Shane and Ilya steal an amused glance over her head as she works through whatever is brewing in her three-year-old head.

“Papa,” Zara says, voice serious now. “You still need kiss.”

“Oh? A kiss? But I thought there were no bruises or bumps.”

“It’s a safety kiss. Keeps the owies away.”

Ilya laughs and accepts the logic, tilting his head forward so Zara can press her lips to the crown of his head. Shane’s heart swells in his chest, the way it always does when he watches Zara and Ilya interact. And then he’s being yanked up from the floor by Ilya and grabbed by Zara, seemingly turning their small moment into a family group hug.

Shane used to think he was put on Earth to be the greatest hockey player of his generation. He amended his thinking a few years later when he met Ilya, conceding that maybe he was also put here to love the man who was supposed to be his rival.

He thinks he was wrong both times, though.

The real reason Shane was put on this Earth was to be part of this little family. His family.

Even when his family makes dumb decisions like sharing a toddler-sized bed and waking him up in the middle of the night when he has to be up in a few hours for practice.

If it weren’t for the awful squeaking sound coming from the box spring and Zara's slow, shallow breathing, Shane would stay here all night. But he knows if he doesn’t break the hug soon, all three of them are going to drift to sleep and wake up on the floor.

“Alright, Ilyusha, let’s go.”

They work quickly and quietly, untangling themselves from Zara and getting her resettled in bed. Shane throws two pillows down on the floor, just in case, and then leans down to give her a goodnight kiss.

“Are you really okay?” Shane asks seconds later when they’re back in the safety of their room.

Ilya nods, but winces when he reaches back to check the back of his head. “I just need to sleep it off.”

Shane yanks the pillow out from Ilya, sending his already aching head crashing down on their temperature mattress.

Ilya curses in Russian, glaring up at Shane. “What was that for?”

“You can’t sleep right now! You might have a concussion.”

Ilya rolls his eyes. “Shanya, I know what concussions feel like, and this is not it. I fell two feet and landed on carpet. Ice is much harder, and I have done that many times.”

“Which is why every head injury is serious,” Shane argues. “Come on, sit up. You can use me as your pillow so I can wake you if you doze off.”

Ilya schools his face, putting on his thinking expression, as if Shane’s offer is some hardship that he must find a way to negotiate out of. Shane rolls his eyes, used to his husband’s theatrics, and tugs Ilya towards him, angling his head so it lies delicately against Shane’s chest. And then, for added measure, he cards his fingers into Ilya’s curls and gently scratches his scalp. Ilya melts into his touch.

“This is unsafe, Shane,” Ilya mumbles. “I will fall asleep if you keep doing this.”

Shane hums, tilting his head down to steal a kiss. “I think I know a perfect way to keep you awake.”

Shane shifts, slowly settling Ilya back on the pillow he hastily took from him before sliding down his clothed body. His hands push up the soft cotton Centaur’s shirt, exposing a sliver of Ilya’s torso, just enough for Shane to get his lips on warm skin.

Ilya bucks up at the sudden attention.

“We should make this new concussion protocol,” Ilya jokes as Shane teases the elastic of his boxers. “It will be very beneficial.”

“This is a one-time deal, Rozanov.”

Ilya pouts, pushing up onto his elbows to get a better look at Shane. “Then, you better make it count, Hollander.”

Maybe there isn’t just one reason Shane was put on this Earth; maybe there’s a list. A list that includes hockey and loving Ilya and being Zara's dad and also giving his husband mind-blowing —

There’s another thud, followed by Zara's wail.

“I’m ordering guard rails tomorrow,” Shane says, climbing off the bed.

“Maybe we throw whole bed away,” Ilya suggests, hustling after Shane. “And go back to crib. S’much safer.”