Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Ilya Rozanov, Troy Barrett

Additional Tags:

Eric Kip and Kyle make brief appearances, The Kingfisher (Game Changers), Coming Out, Relationship Reveal, POV Outsider, POV Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Ilya Rozanov is a Menace, Spoilers for Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Mild canon divergence, Humor

Language:

English

Series:

Part 5 of Bee's Heated Rivalry Fics, Part 1 of shed some light on me (please)

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-09 Words: 2,554 Chapters: 1/1

shed some light

Summary

Rozanov waited for Barrett and Eric to answer, then looked at Scott with a glint in his eye that never meant anything good. “I will have a Scott Hunter, please.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even like that drink last time.”

Ilya smirked. “True, but maybe Scott Hunter is, how do you say, a grower?” He followed the statement with a wink. Bastard.

---

Or: Scott finds out.

Notes

This was originally chapter two of a longer AU but I really could not get the rest of it to work, and I think it stands well enough on its own. The only real canon divergence at play here is that Shane and Ilya decided to come out to certain people they trust a few months earlier, so Troy already knows about them.

Scott had known for a while that there was… something going on with Ilya Rozanov. Ever since he had shown up unprompted to Scott Hunter Night in 2017 and danced a bit too casually with the men, he had wondered. But Rozanov always seemed so confident with women, it was hard to picture him otherwise.

He was comfortable around gay people. As much as he liked to tease, Scott knew how to tell the difference between playful ribbing and homophobic jibes. Rozanov’s chips always fell firmly in the first category. He gave off none of the stiff awkwardness that was often turned towards Scott even from well-meaning teammates. Plus, he was apparently friends with Hollander now, and who in the league hadn’t heard the rumors about him at this point?

It’s not that Scott thought being confident with women meant he couldn’t like men. He knew bisexual people existed. Of course he knew that. But… part of him kind of thought Ilya might just be like that. The rare type of straight guy who was comfortable enough in his identity to know his heterosexuality wouldn’t up and disappear if he hung around gay people once in a while. Because as much as Ilya seemed to enjoy dancing with the men, as much as he teased and borderline flirted with Scott's friends, he never left with anyone. Never kissed anyone, never made any move that would actually lead to anything.

It certainly wasn’t for a lack of skill; anyone in the league could tell you that Rozanov’s capability to pick people up was unrivaled. So there must be another reason. Lack of interest, he had figured. It was one thing to playfully flirt with and tease other guys. That was basically just chirping. It was another thing entirely to sleep with them.

If Scott had thought about it a little deeper, maybe he would’ve remembered that Ilya did spend a lot of time with one guy. Perhaps, if he had cared to, he would’ve even noticed that Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov always left around the same time at the All-Star Games. Or taken note of the way Rozanov’s eyes softened whenever Hollander was brought up that did not scream friendship. But believe it or not, Scott actually had better things to do with his time than think about who Ilya Rozanov may or may not be fucking.

So it came as more of a shock than it should have when he came out to him at the Kingfisher.

(And really, maybe the fact he was a regular customer at Scott’s gay bar should’ve been another hint.)

It was so casual, he almost didn’t even notice what had happened at first.

Ottawa played the Brooklyn Scouts that afternoon, so Barrett and Rozanov had come down to Manhattan afterwards to visit. When Scott arrived at the Kingfisher, the two were already sitting at a table with Eric Bennett, who was looking slightly flustered as Rozanov teased him about something or other. He sighed, crossing the room to intervene.

“Do you want something Rozanov, or are you just here to antagonize our patrons?”

Rozanov looked up at him with a grin, while Barrett shot him a look that was probably meant to be apologetic but mostly just came off as amused.

“Hunter! You are finally here! I thought maybe you had forgotten we were coming in your old age.”

“Fuck off.” He let out another sigh. He really had to stop letting Rozanov get to him like this. He wasn’t even late. In fact, the table was devoid of drinks, so they obviously hadn't been waiting long.

“What do you guys want? I’ll go put an order in with Kyle.”

Rozanov waited for Barrett and Eric to answer, then looked at Scott with a glint in his eye that never meant anything good. “I will have a Scott Hunter, please.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even like that drink last time.”

Ilya smirked. “True, but maybe Scott Hunter is, how do you say, a grower?” He followed the statement with a wink. Bastard.

Scott scowled, trying not to blush. “You know full well the saying is grows on you. You’re getting a beer.” He turned away, ignoring Barrett's giggles and the claim Rozanov shouted after him that he was discriminating against a foreigner in his homeland. Jesus Christ. He approached the bar, where Kyle and Kip were engrossed in conversation and hadn’t yet noticed him. He snuck up quietly behind Kip, pressing a finger to his lips when Kyle met his gaze, then threw his arms around his husband from behind.

The squeak he let out was truly undignified. He turned around to glare at him. “Fuck off with that! You scared me!”

Scott just laughed. “Sorry,” he said, not meaning it at all. Kip shoved him gently, smiling.

He turned to Kyle, relaying the table's orders. A beer for Rozanov, as promised, and not an especially good one. Sue him, he was feeling petty.

He let his eyes linger on Kip for a few moments, but forced himself to head back to the table as Kyle slid the drinks over. These outings were never too long; he'd have plenty of time to enjoy his husband's company later tonight.

Rozanov wrinkled his nose as Scott set the beer in front of him, but mercifully took the drink without comment.

They settled into what was becoming a surprisingly comfortable routine. The inclusion of Troy Barrett earlier in the year had been a bit of a shock, but Scott was learning he was a far nicer person off the ice than his reputation would suggest. Plus, he had come out publicly earlier in the month, which certainly recontextualized some of their previous interactions.

They chatted idly about the evening's game, the two Centaurs complaining loudly about the refs. Ottawa had maintained their longest winning streak in over a decade by beating the Scouts 3-2 in overtime, but even Scott could admit the officiating hadn't been in their favour. Multiple missed calls against Brooklyn paired with a particularly controversial high sticking penalty on Barrett (who still adamantly maintained his stick had been nowhere near the guy) had made for a frustrating game.

Eric was nodding along, chiming in with sympathetic remarks here and there. Scott suspected his attention was elsewhere though, as his eyes hadn't strayed from Kyle all evening.

Eventually their complaints were exhausted, and the conversation lulled. After a few minutes of silence that was only slightly awkward, Rozanov slumped back in his seat.

“It is so boring here now. What is the point of coming to a gay bar when everyone is in a committed relationship?” he whined.

Barrett rolled his eyes at him. “Like you can talk.”

Before Scott could question what that was supposed to mean, Rozanov kept going.

“Is true! I used to come here and tell everyone how stupid they were being by not fucking their very obvious crushes.” He sat up, waving his hand to accentuate his speech. “It was very entertaining. But now everyone has taken my advice, and they are all happy because I am very smart, and it is boring here.”

Okay, so maybe Scott had let himself get a little too distracted by Kip during previous visits. He had no idea what Rozanov was talking about.

Barrett did not seem to share his confusion, as he let out a sharp laugh before narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Wait, who else were you harassing?”

“Not harassing! Helping!”

“Sure.”

Rozanov gestured to the man beside him. “I helped Bennett, when he was being stupid about liking Kyle.”

Eric glanced up upon hearing his name. “You call that helping? The way I remember it, you reminded me my wife left me then made fun of Kyle's age.”

Yeah, that sounded about right.

Rozanov just shrugged. “It worked, did it not?”

“That wasn't because– oh, forget it.” Eric shook his head, flicking his gaze down to his drink, then back towards the bar, seeming to make a decision. He stood, making a beeline for Kyle.

Oh well. Honestly, Scott wished he could make for Kip the same way, but he should probably at least pretend to be a good host for a little longer.

He turned his attention back to the table, where Barrett looked to be considering something. “It is uncanny how much you notice. How many players have you clocked now?”

“Clocked?”

“Known they were gay before they told you.”

“Oh, most of them. You, Bennett, Price, Hollander…” There was something a little odd in his voice when he said that last name. “And at least one more I think, but he has not made it public yet.”

Jesus Christ, Scott didn't even know where to start with that. He hadn’t known about any of this. Was the man just a walking gaydar? What the actual fuck?

Though it didn’t escape his notice that there had been a name missing from the list.

“Not me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rozanov’s expression soured slightly. “No. You were good at keeping your relationship a secret.” He paused, taking a sip of his drink. “Not as good as some people though. I don't know if you noticed, but you were sort of obvious on the ice,” he added, smirking again. “Where is your sense of intrigue? Mystery?"

Scott scoffed. “Man, I kept that secret for months, I thought I was going to die.”

An indecipherable expression crossed Rozanov’s face. Barrett winced slightly too, but schooled himself quickly, turning toward his teammate.

“You really noticed that many of us?”

Rozanov nodded. “I am very wise, very perceptive. I give guidance to stupid hopeless gays like bisexual Yoda.”

Barrett laughed in surprise. “Yoda?!”

“Yes. I sit on a mountain and fix everyone's problems,” he said, gesturing with his beer for emphasis.

“Have you even seen Star Wars? I don’t think Yoda does that.”

Scott let the conversation wash over them as the two fell into a lighthearted argument, idly swirling his drink.

…Wait a second. What?

Rozanov took another casual sip of his beer as if Scott’s world hadn’t just shifted a little to the left.

His mouth worked quicker than his brain. “Since when are you bisexual?!”

He winced. It was admittedly not the smartest thing he'd ever said.

Rozanov turned away from his conversation with Barrett, eyebrow raised. “Since always, probably. Unless you are asking when I first fucked a man? This is not how it works, but I can tell you anyways–”

“No! No, don't do that.” He was blushing furiously now. Rozanov was looking at him with that same smug expression he always seemed to wear.

Scott closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself. Okay, so Rozanov just came out. Rozanov!

Wait, fuck, Rozanov just came out. Scott should probably like, be supportive, or something.

He cleared his throat. “Uh. Congratulations”

“For what?”

“For… you know.” he gestured vaguely.

“You cannot say it? Are you a homophobe? This is very disappointing, Hunter.”

“Obviously not! I’m just…”

“Surprised?” Barrett offered.

“Well… I mean, yeah, kinda”

Rozanov rolled his eyes. “Hockey players are very stupid. Everyone acts as if they will turn gay if they touch pride tape. They call people fairy and pansy or worse for absolutely nothing. I go to the gay bar many times and everyone says, ‘wow, that straight man really likes the gay bar.’”

Okay, well when you put it like that…

Alright, maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise.

There wasn't too much more to say about that really, and eventually the conversation wandered back to hockey. Scott wanted to ask a million questions, like when Rozanov had known, and how he had balanced seeing men with hockey, or if he had ever had a long-term boyfriend, but they all seemed too personal. Maybe another time, Scott could offer up his own struggles and they could have a real conversation.

It was strange to imagine having a meaningful discussion with Ilya Rozanov, but queer NHL players were hard to come by. Ones that weren't retired even more so.

They discussed the upcoming trade deadline for a while, but before long both the drinks and the conversation began to dry up.

Rozanov stood to leave, then paused. “Oh, I almost forgot, Shane wanted me to ask you if you are free in July.”

Scott furrowed his brow. He had nothing but respect for Hollander, but he barely knew the guy. And as far as he could remember, Rozanov only really knew him through their shared charity. He would assume that's what he was asking about if they hadn't already discussed it at the All-Star competition a few weeks ago.

“Is this about the camps? I already told you I can help coach.”

Rozanov shook his head. “No, this will be much more exciting.”

Scott felt like he was missing something obvious, but Rozanov's face gave no clues.

He pressed further. “Oh. Okay. Why does Hollander want to know my schedule then?”

Rozanov sighed dramatically. “Good question, I was wondering same thing. I told him you are very old and boring, but he insists you should be invited to the wedding anyway.”

Scott blinked. Who said anything about a wedding? Scott hadn't even known Hollander had a boyfriend. And why on earth would he ask Rozanov to give out invites for him?

It took him a moment to collect his thoughts enough to ask the obvious question.

“Um. Who’s getting married?”

“Us. Do not tell anyone but Kip, is still a secret for now,” Rozanov said with an odd smile.

What.

What.

“What?”

This… this was a joke. Right? It had to be. Except, now he was really thinking about it, and pieces he hadn't even known existed were clicking into place. Oh god.

This wasn't a joke.

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck.

Rozanov looked at him intensely, and began speaking slowly. “We are together, and we are getting married to each other.”

Maybe Scott had suffered a concussion in his last game and this was all some strange, injury induced coma. That would make more sense than this new reality.

He glanced at Barrett, who must've known, because he didn't look nearly as shocked as Scott was feeling. If anything, he seemed to be holding back laughter.

Scott gathered all of his remaining focus, trying to give an appropriate response to being informed of a relationship and invited to a wedding.

Instead, he mumbled something vaguely incoherent about checking with Kip and getting in touch.

Oh well. Rozanov seemed to accept it as an appropriate answer. At least, he turned to leave and called a goodbye over his shoulder without making fun of Scott any further, so. Close enough.

Barrett stood too, looking somewhat incredulously after his teammate. “I should, uh… we came together, so…” he gestured awkwardly to the door.

Scott tried his best to say something, but ultimately just nodded numbly.

He's not quite sure how long he stood there frozen before he finally wandered back to the bar, wrapping his arms around Kip, who was looking mildly concerned at his expression. He shook his head, an unspoken I'll tell you later.

They would have to be sure to keep their schedules clear in July.

Fucking Rozanov.

He didn't know what Hollander saw in him.