Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Kip Grady/Scott Hunter, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Scott Hunter & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Ilya Rozanov, Kip Grady, Kyle Swift

Additional Tags:

Ilya and Scott's Bromance, Post-Episode: s01e06 The Cottage (Heated Rivalry), Ilya meets Kip

Language:

English

Series:

Part 3 of Ilya's Big Gay Bromance

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-21 Words: 2,298 Chapters: 1/1

Talking Puck

Summary

Not only did Boston lose against New York, but now he was wet and cold and being taken to the only gay hockey bar in the city.

Notes

This part fought me a little for some reason, but we're here now. Shoutout to atomic47 for the lightning-fast response to my beta read request, and then putting up with my total inability to type a sentence without random capitalisation :P

Boston was here to play in New York on a cold November day, and Ilya was scowling at the weather.

“Chin up, Rozanov. You can have hot chocolate at the bar.”

“Hunter, is not supposed to rain when is below freezing. Either it snows like proper winter or it stops making me wet.”

“You are aware that you play a winter sport, yes? You’re also from Russia.”

“Russia has proper winter. Snow, ice. Is cold but air is not trying to drown me.”

“You’re just mad that Boston can’t seem to win in New York. Couldn’t last season either. That’s why we won the cup and you didn’t.”

“Fuck you Hunter, this is why they put Florida and Tampa back in my division. So we can warm up some days.”

“Come on, Rozanov. We just have to run for the cab and then it's, like, three feet on the other side.”

For once the Boston team got an extra day in the Big Apple between away games, and Ilya had decided to use the opportunity to get Shane off his back and actually spend some time with Scott Hunter. They’d texted a bit more since the summer — a few quips about each other’s early season points averages and the odd comment on other significant plays in the league — but not all that much. Ilya had a much longer text thread with David, who liked to boast about his Sudoku skills, and shared cryptic crossword clues and answers that he thought would further Ilya’s understanding of English. Shane thought it was a backhanded ploy by his mother to sneak some media training to Ilya, but Ilya wasn't convinced.

When they made it to the Kingfisher, Ilya made a beeline for a seat as far to the back as possible where he assumed it would be warmer. Before he could get past the bar, though, he was stopped by someone.

“Ilya Rozanov! When Kip said you were going to stop by, I did not believe him.”

Ilya squinted at the speaker. It was a young man — attractive — who had stopped him. Scott smiled at him and wrapped him into a hug.

“Kyle! Great to see you. I didn’t know you were working today.”

“Well, when Kip said he was meeting another scary hockey player, I thought I should come as backup.” The guy — Kyle — puffed up to make himself look larger, and Ilya found himself joining Scott as they laughed.

“Ah yes, small New York man definitely will take on hockey player and win. I hear New York rats are especially swollen.”

“I think you mean swole, but—Heyyy,” Kyle seemed to suddenly get the comparison, and Scott snorted, trying not to laugh.

“Don’t worry Kyle, it’s how he shows affection.”

“No, is not true. I am nice to people who I like. You are all terrible. Is why I am mean.”

“Sure thing. Grab me a beer, Kyle. Oh, and something for Kip. Ilya, what are you having?” Scott turned to Ilya, who peered at the offerings on the wall behind the bar sceptically.

“I think this is not place that has good Russian Vodka, so I will have one of your weak beers.”

“Coming right up! I’ll bring them over.” Kyle scooted his way back behind the bar, moving with a kind of flowing dance that almost reminded Ilya of skating.

“That’s Kip’s friend. He basically runs this place, though he’s not the owner. I feel bad for him — the owner is a bit of a dick and won’t let him do anything interesting with the place that would probably make it more profitable.”

“Ah, so you come here because of your boyfriend, not because is good bar.”

“It’s a… no you’re right, it’s kind of a terrible bar. But the people are nice. It’s accidentally become a hockey bar because Kip would come in here and insist on putting my games on the TV.”

“Yes, I have also been very boring to make Jane happy. Did you know Canadians like to stare at fire? For fun?” Ilya couldn't help but smile to himself at the memory, as despite his scepticism at first (and the fucking wolf-bird) it had been… comfortable. Safe. His inner caveman appreciating the warmth of the fire against the cold wilderness.

“That’s not a Canadian thing, Ilya. That’s actually very normal. I think you’re the weird one here.”

“No, I only make fire to burn things. Photos of bad decisions. Unlucky socks. Normal fire activities.”

“Sorry, what are you doing with socks?” A new voice, and Scott’s face lit up as he stood to greet the newcomer. Ilya took a moment to recognise him, but it did seem to be the man that Scott had kissed on the ice in June.

“Kip, hi! You made it!” Scott embraced him and they shared a chaste but sincere kiss, and Ilya’s heart leapt into his throat with longing for a split-second, before he got himself under control.

“Of course I made it, I’m aiming for a hat trick of hockey captains before the end of the year.”

“Of course, you sleep with me and discover I am much better in bed because I am not very old like Scott, then you won’t want to go back.”

Scott spluttered in indignation, but Kip just threw back his head and laughed.

“Ha! Jane warned me that you’d hit on me. I owe him twenty bucks now because I didn’t believe him,” Kip grinned as Scott left a final kiss on his cheek.

“Jane is smart man, you should listen to him,” Ilya said.

“I dunno, he seems to like you so I think his opinion is suspect.” Kip and Scott were settling back down in the booth seat across from Ilya, their bodies touching in a long line from ankle to shoulder that make Ilya’s own shoulder feel cold. Ilya shuffled awkwardly in his seat and tried not to think too hard about it.

“I managed to catch some of the highlights on YouTube on my way over — good job on both your goals.” Kip tipped his head sideways to touch Scott’s cheek in affection.

“Ah, he is easily impressed. Scott has easy point from power play while I score against a full team.”

“Rozanov is just mad because Vaughan got a hat trick,” Scott faux-whispered to Kip.

“Aww, it’s okay Ilya. I’m sure Jane will kiss it better.”

“Cannot, he is busy all this week. End of the month, there is three days between home games where I might visit, but not sure.” Ilya shrugged. Both Boston and Montreal had a string of home games over the span of a week, and the way the season had shaped up, it was the only week they were going to even be vaguely close to each other until their teams faced each other in January. Ilya was yet to convince Shane that it was worth flying to Montreal for a single day together, especially since Shane would be playing that night, but increasingly Ilya was finding that the thought of spending months apart was making him antsy.

“Where is he based then? I guess not Boston, unless…” Kip raised his eyebrow in question.

“No, is not Boston. Is Canada. He is there and his family is there, so I visit when games go there. Sometimes he is also working in Boston so we are in my house, but not all the time.”

“Wait, his family?” Scott leaned forward. “You’ve met his family. Jeez, Roz, I thought this was some kind of fuck-buddy situation where you’d caught feelings.”

“Well, was when we talked in June. Then I stay with him for the summer instead of Russia. Was nice. And we… we talked. We are boyfriends now.”

“Whoop!” Kip cheered, and nearly knocked Kyle where he was coming over with their pints. Kyle saved it at the last moment, and placed all three glasses on the table.

“For that, Kip, I’m putting it on your tab and not Scott’s,” Kyle swatted playfully at Kip who just grinned and left them to it, returning tot he bar where someone else was standing and waiting.

There was a slightly awkward silence that settled over the table. Ilya grasped his beer and started drinking, his nose wrinkling at the taste.

“So, uh. You think you’re gonna head to California for the bye-week?” Scott asked.

“Oh yeah! The All-Star game is in San Jose. They announce the teams in January, right?” Scott nodded, and Kip continued. “But, like, they have to pick you, surely. I mean, you don’t get MVP and then not be an all-star six months later.”

“It’s not guaranteed—” Scott started.

“—they will pick you. And me. And Hollander. Probably Johnson again from Toronto.” Ilya started going through players, counting them on one hand.

“Really? He’s been out three games already with his ankle.”

Scott and Ilya fell into familiar discussion of hockey. Without the usual team posturing and bravado about who they were feuding with it was… almost nice to talk puck with the older man. Kip chipped in every now and again with commentary on how attractive the various players were (Ilya had to agree that Markov — the Russian defenceman for Edmonton — might have fast feet that would likely get him a spot at the All Star game, but he’d taken far too many pucks to the teeth to ever be a great beauty) and Ilya revelled in being able to join in and express appreciation without feeling like he was going to get strung up by his laces in the locker room.

“Does your guy come to your hockey games much?” Kip asked. “I mean, obviously he doesn’t travel with you and all, but does he get to see you when you’re in his neck of the woods?” Ilya frowned in confusion and Kip clarified. “In his area.”

“Sometimes. More normal that we meet after games.” Ilya took a long sip of his beer, thinking through what he wanted to say next. “But his family in Ottowa— they make plans to come when we play there. Or maybe Montreal, as is close.”

“Oh yeah, isn’t his mom a Voyageur?” Scott asked, and Ilya remembered the text that Scott had accidentally seen when they’d first talked.

“Yes. Which is very sad for them as is my favourite place to beat. If they come, either I am sad or they are sad and we do not have fun dinner.”

“They still take you for dinner even when you beat their hockey team? You must have made a helluva impression on them.” Kip said with a grin.

“You guys haven’t played Montreal yet this season though, right?” Scott asked.

“No, not until new year. But one game in Ottawa in two weeks.”

“I guess that whole you vs Hollander thing means those Voyageurs fixtures get burned into your skull.”

“Yes, I always know when we next face the Voyageurs. Everyone makes big deal and shout at me during pressers. Was fun, at first. But I have run out of ways to say how I will beat Hollander. Play Hockey, score goals, don’t let Hollander score goals. Is same thing every time.”

“I mean, have you heard the average hockey player talk to the press, right? ‘We’re a great team and it’s all about how we play as a group and we don’t want to let down the fans because it’s a team sport we’re here to give our all and leave it all on the ice’.” Scott affected a deadpan tone, and Kip laughed.

“Bah, you sound boring like Hollander.” Ilya said, but also couldn’t help but grin.

“He’s a master of the ‘say nothing’ school of hockey pressers.”

“One day he will say real thing and everyone will be in coma from his boring hockey talk and not notice.” Ilya said, and for a moment he imagined Shane just throwing “and getting fucked by their star centre makes losing alright” into the mix and nobody noticing until the fans were picking it apart on twitter later.

By the time Kyle was starting to pack up the bar, Ilya felt like maybe he was a little lighter. It was odd, being in public and being open. He could only imagine what his father would say if he’d caught any part of this evening — from the game loss to the gay bar — but found that it didn’t bother him as much as it usually did. He wasn’t here to spite his father, for once in his life. He’d only had two beers and hadn’t danced at all, but he’d enjoyed himself.

Jane: Just saw the score. You OK? Kip was excited to see you but I don’t know if you went out.

The text was from about an hour ago. Montreal’s game had been later, so Shane must have sent it as soon as he was back in the locker room.

Ilya: Good night. Scott has very bad taste in gay hockey bars. Was almost boring enough that you would have fun.

Jane: Oh god, were you rude about the bar when you were in the bar?

Ilya: I was very well behaved, like always.

Jane: I’ll believe that when I see it. I’m glad you had fun.

Ilya: Is good, we decide who should be on all star team. Hunter is not as smart about hockey as you, doesn’t believe in Johnston.

Jane: Hey, wasn’t me that picked him. That was my mother.

Ilya: Your father is right. Is a witch.

Jane: Call me when you’re back at the hotel?

Ilya: Of course. I love you.

Jane: I love you too. Definitely call. You have your tripod?

Ilya: Of course, I am prepared. Like boy scout.

Jane: You’re ridiculous. Like boy scout.