Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e05 I'll Believe in Anything (Heated Rivalry), Soft, Fluff, Injury, Concussions, Injury Recovery, POV Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of i'll believe in anything

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-29 Words: 2,145 Chapters: 1/?

i could take away the salt from your eyes

Summary

It’s the next morning and Shane is finally due for discharge from the hospital.

Ilya waits in the car.

After Shane accidentally outs them to his parents, Ilya takes advantage of a week off to spend time with Shane.

Notes

Sequel to i’d share a life, please read that first! It’s in the series.

Thank you so much to everyone who has kudos’d and commented on part 1! This is for all of you. This will be updated periodically as I get inspiration.

The “bye week” is a real thing apparently! I am learning so much about Hockey. But yeah, Convenient Week Off

Title from "I'll Believe in Anything" by Wolf Parade

Thank you to @internerdionality and @feral_mermenby for betaing! <3 <3 <3

It’s the next morning and Shane is finally due for discharge from the hospital. 

Ilya waits in the car.

Boston had started the league’s newly instituted “bye week” right after their game with Montreal. It’s very good timing. He has another 3 days of complete rest – no practice, no games, no commitments. He’s meant to be home for it, but he has nobody to report to. He gave his team a stupid excuse – catching up with some old friend of his father, who is also grieving him – and told them to fuck off. Thankfully nobody has questioned him. At least, not to his face.

But he doesn’t want to be seen in the hospital again, so he sits in the back of the car in the parking lot with sunglasses and a hoodie on as Shane’s parents go inside and fill out paperwork and all of those things. He wonders what they will tell Shane, if they will say he is here before getting in the car. He doesn’t think surprise will be good for Shane’s concussion. Ilya has never had a serious one before. He doesn’t know exactly what will be good or bad for Shane’s head, but he knows he’ll make sure Shane is doing it. 

Shane’s parents return a short while later, and Ilya straightens up as he sees Shane. He has a cast on one arm and his mother clinging to the other, but he walks himself to the car, his dad opening up the backseat.

Shane’s face lights up when he sees Ilya waiting for him. Ilya knows his own does the same. He takes off his sunglasses, needing to see Shane properly.

“Ilya,” Shane says, and while he sounds less doped up than the previous day, he still certainly has some meds in his system. He stands at the door, almost hesitating. “They told me what happened, I–”

Ilya stops him, patting the seat on the other side of the car. “We can talk about it once we are at your parents’ house, yes?” he offers. “Come, sit.”

Shane gets in the car with his mother’s probably unnecessary help and sits down. Immediately he reaches for Ilya’s hand, and Ilya gives it, letting him hold on. Shane grips his hand, until Ilya gestures with his other.

“Seatbelt,” he says firmly. Shane grumbles softly but lets go to put on his seatbelt, immediately reaching for his hand again.

Ilya brings Shane’s hand over to him, and rests it on his own knee, stroking a thumb over Shane’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Shane murmurs, as his parents circle the car and get inside. “I didn’t mean–”

“I know,” Ilya says, cutting off his apology again. “Is okay. Just rest for drive.”

It’s a long drive to Shane’s parents’ house. Ilya keeps a hold of Shane’s hand, and neither of them speak. Shane’s parents don’t say anything. They’d already talked on the way over that morning, said everything that needed saying for the moment. 

Shane nods off during the car ride, and Ilya isn’t surprised. Pain meds always make people tired. He hasn’t experienced them many times himself, but he has been around injured players and knows that sleep is necessary. He doesn’t let go of Shane’s hand the whole time.

They pull up into Yuna and David’s garage. They had said he would be staying with them for a few days, at least. The hospital wants him monitored. It makes sense, and Ilya is glad for it. He knows that being in his parents’ house will mean no sex, but the concussion and fracture would mean no sex for a while, regardless. 

It scares him how eager he is, still. It’s impossible to deny any longer that this is more than just sex. Not that Ilya could have denied it after his admission to Shane’s parents, but still, it’s a big step and he doesn’t quite know how to deal with it. He would usually drink, but he knows Shane won’t be able to with his pain meds. Besides, Shane’s parents likely have nothing good on hand.

And then there’s the matter of confessing to Shane. He knows he has to. And part of him even wants to. But he doesn’t know when the right time will come, when a situation will happen that makes it come out. 

Ilya squeezes Shane’s hand and gently nudges his shoulder, on the unbroken side. Shane groans softly, his eyes still closed.

“Shane,” Ilya says, keeping his voice low. “It’s time to leave car, now.”

Shane mumbles something, then opens his eyes. He looks across at Ilya, blinking slowly, and then rolls his shoulders and winces. Ilya tries to stop him.

“M’alright,” Shane mumbles. He looks at Ilya again, his eyes showing his slight daze. “You’re here.”

“Yes,” Ilya says softly. “I am right here.”

A smile lights up Shane’s face, stronger than any pain he might feel. 

Yuna and David come around his side of the car, and help to get him out of it. Yuna fusses over him, but Shane nudges her off. “I’m fine, just need to lay down a bit. Can I go to my bed?”

“Of course,” Yuna says. “Come on, let’s get you to bed and into something comfier.”

Ilya gets out of the car and follows them. He’s barely interested in looking around the house, more concerned with Shane and his travelling to the bed. Ilya stands in the doorway as Yuna and David help Shane, but Shane shrugs them off. He’s in clothes they must have brought to the hospital, but Yuna goes into the closet and fetches a pair of pajama pants and a soft tshirt. Ilya awkwardly leaves the room as they start to help him dress, and Shane begrudgingly accepts the help. Even though he’s obviously seen all there is to see, he doesn’t feel like staring is very appropriate.

He looks around at more of the house to distract himself. Nice furniture, big windows, a decent backyard. It’s clear Yuna and David are either well-off by their own rights or getting a chunk of Shane’s money. But the personal touches are what he cares about more. Even from here, he can see no less than 4 pictures of Shane on the walls: well-framed, professional shots of him at various ages, all but one on the ice. Ilya can’t help but smile to himself. Shane’s family truly cares about him. 

He wonders what that would be like to have a family be so proud of him. His father had never been proud of him, even when he did succeed, and had been even tougher on him when he hadn’t. His mother had been, when he had done well in his games as a child, but that was so long ago that Ilya can barely remember what it feels like. He tries hard to ignore the tightness in his chest. Thinking about his mother always hurts, so he only does it when he can’t help it. He thinks she would be proud of him if she was still here. He hopes so.

“Ilya,” Yuna says, as she steps out of Shane’s room. Her face is more serious, but not unkind. “He’s injured. I don’t want any funny business.” Ilya frowns, not understanding what this means, and Yuna lowers her voice. “No sex. Be gentle with him. The door stays open.”

Ilya immediately nods. He does not feel ashamed discussing this topic, though he knows Shane would be embarrassed if he heard. He wishes he was trusted enough to not need to be told. But still, he understands the necessity. “Yes,” he agrees. “I’ll be very gentle. And I will not close door.”

Yuna keeps her stern expression for another moment before letting it drop and gesturing into the room. “Call for us if you need anything. He needs rest. And no screens. I’ll be back to give him his meds when he’s ready for them.” Ilya trusts that she’s got the schedule down to the minute and will stick to it. He is glad he does not have to be the one worrying about this.

Yuna and David leave, and Ilya makes his way into Shane’s room. Shane’s in pajamas now, laying on his bed, on top of the sheets and blankets. His arm is still in its cast, and his pajama top is unbuttoned. He still has bruises sitting under his eyes, which look up at him without complete clarity. His hair’s a mess. Even now, like this, he’s nearly irresistible. But Ilya will have to resist, for the sake of his recovery. 

He leaves the door wide open, feeling a little awkward as he steps up to the bed. Shane looks up at him, clearing his throat.

“You didn’t have to stay,” he says softly. 

“I wanted to,” Ilya says without hesitation. “We have week off. And after talking to your parents, I thought I should stay for as long as I can.”

Shane makes a face. “They weren’t too hard on you, were they? I really fucked up, telling them, I didn’t mean to–”

“I know,” Ilya says with a nod. He sits at the edge of the bed, tucking a leg under him so he can lean forward and take Shane’s hand on his uninjured side. “It is okay. It worked out, yes?” Ilya smiles encouragingly. “They were not too hard on me.”

Shane nods, wincing a little as he moves too hard. Ilya winces along with him and reaches out to stop him. 

“Sorry,” Shane says again. Ilya shakes his head.

“Just be gentle. You are hurt.”

“I know,” Shane says with a sigh, shifting his position slightly. “I feel so stupid. I can’t even remember the game, it’s all a blur.”

“You got hurt because of me,” Ilya says softly. It feels like an admission. “You were looking at me. Across the ice. Smiling.” Ilya has to look away. He remembers it too vividly. His fear, his panic, after Shane had hit the ice. It had been horrible. “And then Marleau slammed into you. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Not like that.” 

Shane blinks up at him a few times, and squeezes his hand. He takes a few moments to speak. “Makes sense, then.”

“What do you mean?”

“It makes sense that I’d be distracted looking at you.” Shane says, and there’s a smile on his face. He tugs on Ilya’s hand. “I usually am.”

Something about that makes tears prick up in Ilya’s eyes, though he refuses to let them fall. He twists over, being careful of Shane’s injury but cupping his cheek, and leans in to kiss him as gently as he can manage. All he wants to do is kiss Shane until neither of them can breathe, but he restrains himself, uses everything in him to. He can’t. 

I love you, he wants to say, but he doesn’t want to say it for the first time when Shane might not even remember it, when he’s not in his right mind, affected by the pain medication. He knows Shane would never forgive him if he did this. 

But even so, Shane’s state makes him less likely to snap back, to call Shane a name for his stupidness, his obliviousness out on the ice. For allowing Ilya to get him hurt. 

Something has shifted. He still knows they cannot be together, not while being hockey players, and he doesn’t want to give himself the confidence that Shane is willing to keep doing this in secret for another decade or longer. Even though Shane has said he likes Ilya, like is not strong enough for Ilya to trust that Shane wants a relationship, not the way Ilya craves more than anything.

Part of him knows he’s the one fooling himself, now, by continuing to think that this could be casual or temporary for Shane. Shane, who does everything with his full chest. Shane, who has committed his life to hockey, the most dedicated player Ilya’s ever witnessed, far more than himself. Maybe at the beginning, it was casual for both of them, but he should have it in him by now to trust that it could truly last.

But admitting that out loud, or even in Ilya’s own head, is so daunting that he pushes it down. He smiles softly as he pulls away from the kiss, his heart melting at the little whine of complaint Shane gives him. 

“You should sleep,” Ilya tells him. He runs a hand through Shane’s hair, careful to be gentle with his head. Shane whines again, but his eyes are already closing.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” he asks, sounding insecure, sounding like a small child.

“Yes,” Ilya answers immediately. He’s glad that, for this, he is able to answer definitively. “Yes, I will be right here.” For longer than that.