Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Gen

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Scott Hunter & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Post-Episode: s01e05 I'll Believe in Anything (Heated Rivalry), Coming Out, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, POV Ilya Rozanov, Episode: s01e06 The Cottage (Heated Rivalry)

Language:

English

Collections:

Brain Twin Collabs, StormVandal's Heated Rivalry works & reclist

Stats:

Published: 2025-12-31 Words: 1,265 Chapters: 1/1

The Only Civil Conversation Ilya Rozanov and Scott Hunter Will Ever Have

Summary

After Scott Hunter comes out, Ilya Rozanov approaches him at the MLH Awards.

Notes

hello all! we're having a huge blast writing for this fandom and we already have a list of ideas we're working through. this one came to me (StormVandal) as we were watching Episode 6, at which point spacegandalf informed me that there is a Canon Conversation which takes place in game changers. however, i haven't read game changers and spacegandalf has had enough brain surgeries that she couldn't remember how the conversation went down in the book, so we figured it was still fanfic fair game. hope you enjoy! :)

“Hunter,” Ilya says as he walks up beside him. Hunter has been very popular all evening — Stanleigh Cup champion, MVP, friends with everyone who isn’t a pissbaby who thinks being gay is contagious. Now, though, just for a brief moment, he’s alone, and Ilya takes his chance. He doesn’t miss how Hunter’s shoulders rise up just a little and he tenses as if something bad is about to happen when he notices Ilya’s approach, but Ilya chooses to be a good person (just for the next ten minutes) and doesn’t mention it.

“Rozanov,” Hunter says back, a little warily.

“Well deserved award,” Ilya says, raising his glass of terrible beer. All beer in North America is terrible. “Even old people deserve good things sometimes.”

“Fuck off,” is Hunter’s familiar refrain, but there’s not half as much heat in it as usual. Perhaps it’s the joy of the win. Perhaps it’s the fact that he’s no longer terrified of being found out, and he knows he has someone he loves to sleep next to tonight. Or perhaps he’s a little drunk. Ilya doesn’t know.

“Should have come out earlier in the season. Then maybe you win Lady Beng, too.” They both know that there’s no way the PHWA would have enough braincells to recognise that the impact of coming out warranted voting for the only out player for the Lady Beng, but Hunter smiles and shakes his head anyway.

"It's not like I did it for trophies."

"Still, trophies are nice, yes?"

“Sure, Rozanov,” Hunter says, clearly looking behind Ilya for other people to talk to. What a rude old man.

“Was very brave, what you did. I’m sure it means a lot to many people.” Ilya pauses as he debates what he's going to say next. On one hand, Scott Hunter had had the courage to come out in front of the whole world not via PR speech or social media post but by kissing his boyfriend on TV, so it almost seems like the least Ilya can do is tell him he’s not alone in the league. On the other hand, even though Hunter can obviously be discreet, there are plenty of people around who are not Scott Hunter, some of whom had looked distinctly disgruntled during Hunter's speech. If he says the wrong thing and it gets back to the wrong person, he could end up being sent back to Russia, which he can't bring himself to think about. Hunter would also be the first person to know who he hasn’t fucked first (and doesn’t plan to, because Scott Hunter is a million years old).

“Come with me, Hunter. I am going for a smoke.”

Hunter looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Absolutely not.” Hunter, Ilya assumes, is like Shane — he probably thinks that the moment nicotine sullies the insides of his lungs, he will drop dead. He said that once to Shane, and Shane had protested that it wasn’t the nicotine, it was the tar, blah, blah, and Ilya had stopped listening.

“Come outside,” Ilya says, grabbing his forearm. They both know that it would be an even match if Hunter tried resisting and Hunter might even win, but he shakes his head and follows Ilya out onto the balcony without any more protest.

Ilya really could do with a cigarette, but he's not going to blow smoke in Hunter's face in the middle of trying to extend an olive branch, so he takes out a cigarette for appearances but doesn’t light it.

"As I was saying," he says, now that there are no grumpy homophobic assholes around, "it means a lot to many people. I know it means a lot to me."

Hunter frowns for a moment. Is he both old and stupid? Surely even Hunter can connect these dots. “Oh,” he says. “I’m glad. It’s, uh, lonely, as I said. Keeping a secret like that.”

Ilya nods, drumming his fingers lightly on the balcony railing. He doesn't relate, per se, but he certainly understands what Hunter means. 'Lonely' isn't necessarily the first word that comes to mind when he thinks about how he feels about his and Shane's situation. 'Panicked'? Maybe. 'Terrified'? Sure. But at least they're in it together. Before he saw Scott Hunter kissing a man in public, he had certainly felt hopeless. But he feels a little less hopeless, now.

“Yes,” he says. “Good that you do not have to be lonely anymore.”

“My hope is that others in the league won’t either.” Hunter is eying him like Ilya’s a horse he’s trying not to spook. It’s almost endearing. Maybe Shane has a point when he’s always saying Scott Hunter’s not so bad.

It would be nice for others in the league to feel safe to come out, but it would only solve part of Ilya’s problem.

“It is good this is a country where you can kiss your boyfriend on TV,” he says, hoping that his meaning will come across. “Not that this was easy to do, or that there will be no issues. But still, it is something.”

“Yeah,” Hunter says. He sighs, and then continues, “It sucks that that’s not the case for everyone.”

“Yes.” That’s an understatement. “But there is nothing you can do about this. The league, though, you have helped to make it better. So that players in those situations maybe feel…” He searches for the word. How do you say ‘precarious’ in English? This is a stupid language. “...more stable? Less in danger of losing visa. I cannot find the word in English.”

“I hope so,” Hunter says. “It won’t be overnight, but… Hopefully I can show people that it doesn’t matter who you’re kissing. It doesn’t make you any worse at hockey.”

“You are only kissing? Wow, Hunter, I did not expect you to be prude!”

“Who the fuck taught you the word ‘prude’?” Hunter says. “It’s a figure of speech, of course I’m not only kissing.”

“Thank God. I thought maybe I would have to teach you.”

At that, Hunter finally cracks a smile. “You wish, Rozanov.”

“I definitely do not wish! But I would have done it. I am…” What was the word Connors’ wife had said at the last barbecue about her friend? “Gracious. Good person. Would do it so your boyfriend does not suffer.”

“Fuck you,” Hunter says, but this time there’s no heat in it at all. Has he become friends with Scott Hunter? This is terrible. He’ll have to be extra mean next game.

Ilya manages to stop himself from heaving a sigh; that wouldn’t go over well. Instead, he tucks away the cigarette he’d pulled out but hadn’t lit, and extends his hand.

Hunter takes his hand and gives him a firm handshake. “Thanks for the support. Here’s to things getting better around here.”

“I look forward to beating the only out hockey player next season. We will destroy you, but I will make sure everyone knows it’s because you are bad at hockey, not that you suck cock.”

“Man, you really are allergic to sincerity or something, aren’t you?” says Hunter, still smiling and still without any real heat in his tone. Dropping the handshake, he gives Ilya a final nod and goes inside to rejoin the party.

Ilya takes a cigarette back out and lights up. In a minute, he’ll go back to getting drunk on Crowell’s dime. For now, he looks out over Las Vegas and wonders whether he’ll ever get to have what Hunter does. It’s still impossible, but it feels a tiny bit closer.