Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander

Additional Tags:

POV Scott Hunter, Shane Hollander and Scott Hunter's Fight in Episode: s0103 Hunter, Observant Scott Hunter, Mutual Pining Shane and Ilya, Someone had to see it, Of course it was the DL guy clocking the other DL guys, scott hunter knows

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2025-12-19 Words: 2,892 Chapters: 1/1

It wasn't just "1221"

Summary

In Episode 2 of Heated Rivalry (2025) during the 2011 All-Star Game, Scott Hunter overhears Ilya Rozanov whisper “1221” to Shane Hollander when Ilya thinks he’s being so subtle no one would notice. In 2014 after Shane attempts Baby’s First Insult, Scott hits him where it hurts by suggesting he knows something.

But these geniuses were never really subtle. They weren’t subtle before that All-Star Game and they weren’t subtle after it. The show didn’t have time to show it, but Scott saw them being dumb and obvious way more than that one scene implied. Here are the deleted scenes.

Notes

This was the fic in my head that made me want to put fic on AO3 again.

Ilya said "1221" FOUR YEARS before Shane threw his water balloon and Scott threw his weapons of mass destruction. There's no way he sat on just that one interaction for four years.

I love this show and I love these characters and all praise be to Rachel Reid and Jacob Tierney and the team who gave this to us.

Scott Hunter had been one of the biggest stars for almost a decade when Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander started to make headlines. There were always new phenoms, some of whom fizzled out before they ever made into the majors. Scott usually paid very little attention to the stars until they were drafted, and even then, very few really ended up living up to the hype.

But he’d known immediately that Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander were different. They would be drafted #1 and #2 in some order, and they’d go to Boston and Montreal, and despite going to two of the worst teams in the league (the worst teams always got the best draft picks), he felt pretty confident that stars that burned that bright would turn things around for their teams.

The first time he saw them was at the draft party in 2009. He had been invited by the New York Admirals owner, along with Carter Vaughan, to go to the black-tie event to greet their newest draft picks. The Admirals had had pick numbers 16 and 28 out of the players drafted high enough to be invited to attend the draft, and he’d greeted them with all of the sincerity of the team’s veteran captain. Brendan Witherspoon would only manage half a season for the Admirals before he would have a career ending injury. Frederick Dickenson would never make it out of the minor leagues. But none of them knew that yet.

Scott spent most of the night talking to them and their families, though he got a chance to spend a little time with some of the other team captains and veterans. They all knew each other. Hockey was a pretty small community and he’d played on all-star teams with most of them over time, or had conversations on the days they’d faced off on the ice.

He didn’t actually speak with Ilya Rozanov or Shane Hollander, and he only spotted them once all night. He’d ducked into the room at the venue where the bar was, and while he was waiting for his drink, he spotted Shane Hollander. He was standing between two people who could only have been his parents, a polite looking couple who appeared to be very proud of their son, as they talked with the Metros’ owner. Scott would have looked away, uninterested, except that Shane’s eyes left the conversation for a long moment, looking up at the railing on the floor above. His gaze lingered long enough that Scott looked up too. And there was Ilya Rozanov, staring back down at Shane.

Huh, they must have already met. Well of course they had, they’d faced off at the World Juniors and been drafted the same day. Scott wasn’t sure how much English Rozanov knew – some of the Russians came into the league with very little English, and Scott had never seen Rozanov interviewed in English, so he couldn’t tell – but maybe they were already friends.

Scott let that information fall to the back of his brain as he grabbed his complimentary drink and tipped the bartender ten dollars before heading back to where the Admirals’ contingent was camped out. Shane and Ilya weren’t his rookies. He’d meet them some other time.

-

The rivalry between Ilya and Shane became a big deal before they even broke into the league. A gamble from the league perhaps, but one that seemed to pay dividends immediately, especially since it was pretty much guaranteed that they would start the season on their respective major league teams.

Ilya talked a big talk in interviews. He made a lot of snide remarks about Shane that the fans positively ate up. The words were often accompanied by snide little smiles, like he was telling a joke that the audience was only half in on. Perhaps a joke that was more for Shane than anyone else.

Shane, for his part, played the part of the wholesome young Canadian to perfection. To his credit, it did seem genuine. It contrasted with Ilya’s public persona perfectly. When Shane was asked about Ilya, he mostly rose about the leading questions and responded with professionalism. His words were polite, but between the lines was a hidden message to Ilya: I won’t sink to your level. Scott spoke fluent “press bullshit voice,” so he was pretty confident he understood it correctly. His words were meant for Ilya.

-

The next time Scott saw them at the same time was the all-star game in their rookie season.

Scott wasn’t on Ilya’s team, so he didn’t actually have to interact with him on the ice. They had the rooms next door to each other at the hotel, which Scott only knew because he’d heard Rozanov speaking in Russian loudly on the phone in the hallway outside his room before roughly pushing into his own room. Scott winced when he heard the door to the room next to him slam. Luckily, the conversation wasn’t loud enough to really make it into his room, so Ilya’s argument didn’t bother him after that.

On the ice during the skills competition the next night, he wouldn’t have even noticed Ilya if Shane hadn’t sat down next to him. The last he’d been paying attention, Ilya had been at the other end of the European bench and Shane had been at the far end of the North American bench. But somehow when somebody else got up, Shane had taken the seat closest to center ice, and Ilya was already in the same spot on the other side, really only a few feet away.

Huh, Scott thought. He could kind of hear them talking as he watched what was going on on the ice, but it was nothing really noteworthy. They were just chatting about the all-star weekend. It was the same as ten other conversations going on around them, he was sure.

That was, until Ilya skated by and said something in Shane’s ear that sounded suspiciously like “1221,” which Scott knew all too well was Ilya’s room number. He couldn’t imagine what they needed to talk about in private, but he wasn’t going to bother Shane about it. He did give him a little warning though, that if they were going to be talking too loudly, he would overhear what they were saying. He thought it was nice of him. But really, he just didn’t want to know. If the rookies had secret business, he didn’t want to know anything about it.

He never heard Shane come by. He went to sleep around 10:00, the time boring old veterans who kept disciplined schedules went to sleep, and woke up only once to pee. It was late, probably hours after Shane had left, and Scott wouldn’t have thought anything about either of them again except that he could hear what sounded like sex noises through the bathroom vent. It was hookup o’clock at all-star weekend, so of course Ilya Rozanov had found a girl to hook up with. Good for him. And luckily for Scott, those noises didn’t make it into his room past the bathroom. He very carefully shut the door, and went back to sleep immediately.

-

Scott saw them both at the MLH awards at the end of the year. Shane won Rookie of the Year, which Scott was secretly glad about, because Ilya needed his ego kept in check.

Ilya didn’t make an appearance at the after party. Shane spent the entire party craning his neck looking around the room, eyes leaving every conversation he was a part of, but he never seemed to find the person he was looking for.

-

At the All-Star game the following year, Scott got dinner with a few of his fellow players and friends. Shane made an appearance. He was quiet but polite. Ilya was not invited. He was only brought up once all night, by someone who was complaining about how good he was and how annoying his personality was. Shane had a blink and you miss it smile, and then it was gone and he was blushing fiercely. He almost knocked over his water glass when he moved to pick it up.

Huh.

-

Scott found himself laid out with injury towards the end of the following season. Now that he had some time off from hockey, he…sat at home and watched a hockey game. The Admirals had the night off, so he turned on the Boston vs. Montreal game.

Shane and Ilya both played good hockey, and it was fun to watch them on the ice. It was an easy decision to pick this game to watch over any other games running at the same time.

There were a few moments during stoppages in play where they spoke to each other that the cameras caught in view, but the announcers didn’t seem to notice.

The big “rivalry” was such an act.

Scott couldn’t believe no one else had picked up on it. They saw each other enough, of course they were friends.

The next time they were on screen, they were just staring at each other. The announcers called it a “stare down” but something about it struck Scott as a little funny. It looked competitive, sure, but it really didn’t look how you would stare at someone on the ice. It was more like a cat ready to pounce on prey.

It wasn’t friendly, but it was…something Scott couldn’t name. There was an intensity to the pair of them that was starting to tickle something in the back of his brain, but he couldn’t imagine what. He already knew their secret. They were friends.

-

At the 2014 MLH awards, Shane and Ilya presented the award for Most Sportsmanlike Player.

Scott sat back in his chair, glad he didn’t have to be part of the show this year. It was nice to let the younger players get thrown this way and that while he got to sit back with a nice glass of champagne.

Ilya and Shane recited their obviously forced dialogue, reading a script someone else had written for them. It didn’t really sound like anything that either one of them would say. And as far as most of the room knew, it wasn’t like they had anything at all to say to each other off camera.

Scott had long since known that the two had some kind of secret friendship going on. The league couldn’t know that. As far as Scott could aware, all of the other players still thought that they hated each other too. He wasn’t going to spill their secrets. It was good for the NHL to have rivalries going on, and it was definitely true that the fire that Boston and Montreal fans felt towards the rivalry between their two players kept them coming back for more. It was good for Ilya and Shane, it was good for Boston and Montreal, and it was good for the league.

It also kept the focus off of Scott. He had his own secrets to focus on, and while the spotlight was primarily on other people, that meant that it wasn’t on him. As long as the media’s attention was on something that wasn’t his secrets about his sexuality, that was good for him. Let Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander keep all the limelight they wanted.

Scott had a nice buzz going on as Ilya and Shane were speaking, and maybe it was that haze that made him notice it. The lights above were glittering, the voices bounced around the room, the laughter from the audience echoed in his ears, and Ilya’s arm went around Shane’s shoulder to take a selfie.

It was in the script, with 100% certainty. There was nothing unscripted about it. But the part that certainly felt unscripted to Scott was as he watched in slow motion as Ilya’s hand left Shane’s shoulders and trailed down his neck and back slowly. Way too slowly. It went back to his side after what felt like a millennium.

He blinked twice. Then again.

Shane didn’t react to the movement. He reacted to everything else, exactly as it was in the script. But the fact that Ilya’s hand had- what exactly? It wasn’t like Scott’s line of sight was perfect. Maybe he’d held it a foot back behind Shane’s back. Maybe he hadn’t been close at all. But it had certainly looked close.

There was more forced laughter. It was muddled in Scott’s brain. What had he just seen? Nothing. He’d seen nothing.

But it was the first time he’d really questioned it. He’d seen them interact in private a dozen times. He’d known that they’d been secretly friends for years. He’d also been able to tell so clearly that it was meant to be a secret. He had never once considered that the ladies’ man Ilya Rozanov and hockey’s sweet prince Shane Hollander could be…

But maybe that was unfair. There were people who would have called Scott hockey’s sweet prince, once upon a time, and he would have to be pretty hypocritical to throw stones on this one.

He waited a few minutes after they left the stage, and neither of them returned to their tables. Scott was going to- well, he didn’t know, but he walked to the back of the stage because that’s where the nearest restroom was.

Before he could reach the restroom, he saw Ilya Rozanov walk out, straightening his bowtie. His hair was messier in the back than it had been when he had been on the stage. He cleared out of the backstage area immediately, eyes glancing around confidently and without any semblance of distress. He gave a nod to Scott when he saw him and walked back towards his seat.

Oh no. Who is in that bathroom.

Scott didn’t want to think. No, he wasn’t going to make any accusations. He hung back near a wall and pulled out his phone so that he could look like he was texting.

It took another few minutes for the door to open, and when it did, Scott’s heart raced.

Shane looked perfect, not a hair out of place and certainly not a crooked bowtie. His face had a studied neutrality to it, like he’d practiced what he would look like. He walked quickly, eyes down towards the ground as he made his way back to his seat. He didn’t notice Scott.

Shane Fucking Hollander and Ilya Fucking Rozanov.

Scott turned away and pretended he’d seen nothing. He’d have to get the hell out of here.

-

He kept their goddamned secret.

He couldn’t believe either one of them.

Ilya Rozanov, the most well-known ladies man in the NHL. And Shane Hollander, the sweetheart all the girls wanted to marry.

Not only gay, but together. It was unthinkable. Not the gay part, that was fine. But to be gay with another athlete on a rival team.

He was still going to keep their secret.

On a personal level, he really couldn’t believe Shane Hollander.

Because he was one of the nice guys. He was every bit the sweet angel that the fans hoped he was, even behind closed doors. Most of the guys weren’t like that; they put on their persona for the cameras and then cursed out their opponents and talked about wanting booze and women to drown their sorrows once the locker room door closed. But Shane had always been nice and respectful.

And he was…something…with Ilya Fucking Rozanov? How could that possibly work? The nicest guy put up with an absolute asshole?

What even were they? A long term hookup? A relationship? It would have to be an open relationship if that were true, because there were Page Six headlines about Ilya and some girl or other seen at a club on a weekly basis.

But Scott thought about how long they’d been doing…whatever it was that they were doing. He thought back to Shane’s soft smile before he’d fought it off, back to how they were often talking to each other through the cameras in interviews, back to how often they stared at each other like there was no one else in the room.

Oh no.

-

Scott was going to keep it to himself, he really was. He wasn’t here to out anyone, of course not.

But then Ilya Fucking Rozanov had to kick him while he was down in the midst of a career-worst slump, and then Shane Fucking Hollander had to do his best Baby’s First Chirp impression, and Scott just couldn’t do it. So sue him.

He’d tried to stay quiet and respectful. And he hadn’t outed them or anything.

But he’d had it about up to here with the pair of them and yeah, okay, maybe he instigated the fight. Shane probably bore the brunt of it for starting the fight from his coach, but Scott was the one who’d started it.

He would send a text and apologize, and by the time they saw each other at the Sochi Olympics, it’d be water under the bridge. Scott was pretty sure that would be just fine, because Shane was such a nice guy.

What he was doing with the biggest asshole in the NHL was a mystery to Scott.

Ilya Rozanov must have been a really fucking good lay.