Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov & Svetlana Vetrova

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Svetlana Vetrova

Additional Tags:

Ilya Rozanov & Svetlana Vetrova Friendship, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov Needs A Hug, Episode: s01e06 The Cottage (Heated Rivalry), Missing Scene, Ilya needs a friend, Good Friend Svetlana Vetrova, POV Ilya Rozanov, You can't hide from Svetlana, Svetlana Vetrova Knows Everything

Language:

English

Series:

Part 5 of The Girlies of Heated Rivalry

Collections:

*Heated rivalry melts my heart*

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-23 Words: 1,633 Chapters: 1/1

I Could Marry Svetlana

Summary

“I could marry Svetlana” only Ilya says it to Svetlana rather than Shane.

But she is not here for it.

“Of course you can't, you’re already married.”

Notes

I can't turn the show on without daydreaming about different scenarios, so here's another one:

Ilya spent time at the cottage trying to figure out how to have a future with Shane. But what if the first person he mentioned that plan to wasn't Shane, it was Svetlana?

Thanks to Jacob Tierney, Rachel Reid, Connor Storrie, Ksenia Daniela Kharlamova, and the team for the inspiration. Nothing is mine except the mistakes.

Ilya was in love with Shane, and that was the most important thing. Ilya was in love with Shane, and he needed to protect that love at all costs.

Which was why he needed to marry Svetlana.

He couldn’t dream of a world where he could be with Shane if he wasn’t sure that he could stay in North America.

And he was ready. He was ready for that dream. And he wanted Shane to know. But there was no future together if Ilya couldn’t promise that he could stay here. So before Ilya told Shane he was ready, he would get his plan in place.

If Svetlana would agree to marry him, he could have his future with Shane.

She wouldn’t mind, he was sure of it. He was her oldest friend, she would do this for him.

And then he could tell Shane that he could stay. That he wouldn’t have to go back to Russia, that he could stay here. With Shane. Forever.

On the third day of the most idyllic week of Ilya’s life, Shane left the cottage to run out to the store to grab bandaids.

And Ilya took the opportunity to call Svetlana.

He was pacing back and forth across the kitchen staring at his own face on the phone screen as he waited for her to pick up. It took a moment, as it always did with her. She made you wait for it. But then she did always pick up.

“Hey,” she said when she did. Her expression when she picked up was bored, but after a few seconds her face broke out into a smile. Her hair was piled high up on her head and she didn’t have makeup on. She looked comfortable. And she looked like she was at home.

“Hello Sveta,” Ilya said in Russian. Svetlana didn’t respond, just waited for him to speak, so Ilya jumped right into it. There was never really a reason to waste time on small talk with her.

“We could get married,” he told her. His voice was flat. Not pleading, not desperate, not even overly interested. Exactly how he wanted.

“What?” she asked, also in Russian, her voice faltering. Her forehead crinkled as she took in his words.

“I could get American citizenship. No more Russian passport.” Ilya said. He could hear the entreaty in his voice now, and he knew he couldn’t keep sounding disinterested. Svetlana just stared at him, so he went on. He was pacing in earnest now, too riled up to stand still. The background flashed around him as he walked. “I want to be able to stay here forever. Even after I am done with hockey. I want to be able to stay here, and not go back to Russia. I want to live here. Forever.”

When he was done, he found himself standing still.

Svetlana was still just staring at him for a long moment after he’d finished, and he waited for her.

“Of course you can't marry me,” she finally said.

“What?” he asked. He hadn’t imagined she might say no.

“You’re already married,” Svetlana said. Her words were almost…gentle? She said it like she was saying something important, but it wasn’t true. Of course he wasn’t married. Who would he be married to?

“I- what?” he asked, “I’m not-”

“You don't want to marry me,” Svetlana interrupted. The furrow was gone, and she was back to her usual easy confidence. But she said it like she was stating something obvious, when he was the one who’d called her to tell her that actually this was exactly what he wanted.

Ilya just stared at her, dumbfounded. This conversation was not going how he’d expected.

Svetlana raised an eyebrow and shook her head condescendingly, that way she did when she was about to win an argument. But this wasn’t an argument, it was just a friend asking a favor.

“Do you think I'm dumb?” she asked. Her tone was flat. She wanted an answer.

“I-” Ilya began, but he found himself at a loss for words. He didn’t know what to say. She knew he had ulterior motives, but he couldn’t tell her what those ulterior motives were.

“Ilyushka,” she said. The words were gentle but firm. She wasn’t letting it drop. She wanted an answer.

“Sveta,” he replied, matching her tone.

“Ilya, where are you right now?” she asked.

Ilya had never been caught more off guard in his life. How could she possibly know where he was? She couldn’t. Right?

“What- I mean- you- what?” he asked. Cool, confident Ilya Rozanov had been reduced to this and he had absolutely no way to recover.

“Where are you?” she repeated. “Right now.”

The wall of glass windows seemed to be behind him no matter how he angled the camera.

“…Nowhere,” Ilya replied. It wasn’t his most mature moment, but what could he possibly say? Just as he was attempting to think of a reasonable lie, Svetlana spoke.

“Ilyushka, I was at your apartment when you were staring at that documentary about Shane Hollander’s cottage in where the fuck ever Canada.”

Ilya felt his stomach drop. She knew. How did she know.

“Sveta,” he said.

“You’ve never lied to me,” Svetlana told him, “Don’t start now.”

“Sveta, I-” Ilya began, but he stopped. She was right. He had always tried not to lie to her. He didn’t always tell her the whole truth, but he’d made more of an effort not to lie to her than to anyone else.

“Seriously, who do you think you’re talking to right now? I’m not your father, I’m not your brother.”

Her tone was gentler, and he understood what she was getting at. She was the closest thing he had to a caring family member.

Ilya tried to shrug nonchalantly. But he wanted answers too. What did she know? And since when?

“Why do you think I am at Shane Hollander’s cottage?” he asked, “I could be anywhere.”

Svetlana dropped the softness.

“Don’t act like I’m stupid. And I haven’t been stupid for a long time.”

Ilya shrugged helplessly. There was no fighting her.

“You’re not stupid,” he admitted.

And then she answered the question he hadn’t even asked.

“It’s the way you say his name, Ilyushka. It’s a lot of other things too, but that was what made it click for me. You stare at him like he’s the only thing that matters in the world, even if he’s only on tv. You talk about him more than I’ve ever heard you talk about anyone else-”

“Never anything good,” Ilya said in a rather petulant tone.

“-don’t interrupt me. But the way you say his name is like you’re hiding this special secret that’s close to your heart that no one else is in on. And it’s your most special secret.”

Ilya just stared at her. He’d never had any idea that she’d known anything. She’d never said a word.

“It’s only been Jane for you for so long,” she told him, “You won’t even look at anyone else now, and you haven’t, for so long.”

Ilya shrugged quickly.

“It’s only been a few months.”

“Ilyushka. You were still hooking up with women until a few months ago, yes, but remember I was out with you. You were already distant. Your heart wasn’t in it. You were miles away in Montreal every fucking time we’d go out.”

“Not Montreal.”

“Whatever fucking city he was playing in then, Ilyushka.” Svetlana pursed her lips. “You’re in love with him, and you’ve been in love with him, and you didn’t let yourself have it for so long, but then you did, and you stopped sleeping with anyone else, and your eyes got all soft, and now you’re at his summer house I’m sure desperate for any way to stay in North America so that you can be together with him.”

Ilya just stared at her. What was he supposed to say? What do you even say to someone who apparently knew you were in love before you did, and just hadn’t mentioned it? He hadn’t even told Shane that, not in English anyway, and here Svetlana was, saying it like it was a well known fact.

“Am I wrong?” she asked. But her voice was confident. It wasn’t a question that allowed for disagreement.

“No, you’re right.”

One corner of her mouth tipped up. She’d won a conversation that hadn’t even been a competition. But she’d still won and she knew it. They both did.

“Which part?”

“Sveta.”

Ilya wasn’t giving her details. He couldn’t do that to Shane. He walked out of the kitchen and over to the living room.

“I thought so.”

“But I can’t-” Ilya began, bringing the conversation back where it was supposed to be. What a fucking detour. “I need citizenship and-”

“You don’t need American citizenship, you need Canadian citizenship,” Svetlana corrected.

“It’s not like I can marry him,” Ilya told her. He sat down on the couch that he’d just bent Shane over like four hours ago. But that felt like a month ago. Or an entirely different lifetime. What a trippy conversation.

Svetlana’s expression became sad, and her tone became gentle.

“I know, Ilyushka. But you can’t marry anyone else, either.”

“It would just be for the passport,” Ilya said weakly.

Svetlana shook her head.

“You can't do that to him. You can't do that to yourself, either.”

Ilya nodded. That was probably true. Shane might have hated the idea, and Ilya probably couldn’t have gone through with it if Shane hated it.

“You’ll figure something else out, okay?” Svetlana asked. Ilya nodded mutely. “Maybe with him,” she added. “Not with me.”

“Yeah,” he said, more to himself than to her, “We’ll figure something else out.”