Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Gen

Fandoms:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Eric Bennett & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Eric Bennett, Carter Vaughn

Additional Tags:

artsy eric bennett, Inspired by Fanfiction, The Kingfisher (Game Changers), Perceptive Ilya Rozanov, Coming Out, Bisexuality, POV Eric Bennett, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of Continuing History of Ilya’s Players Series

Stats:

Published: 2026-10-10 Words: 1,568 Chapters: 1/1

#12

Summary

"Did Scott tell you about the deal?" Rozanov asks.
"Deal?" says Eric.
"Does he not know?" Roznov asks, with some surprise.
"Know what?" Eric asks, genuinely puzzled. For reasons he can't identify, his heart rate speeds up.
"About you."
Eric doesn't respond.
Rozanov gives him another look. "Gospodi. Please tell me you know, at least."

Notes

If you haven't read The Chips Are Set to Fall, (1) go read it!!! but also (2) this should still make sense. Thank you icopythefax for writing this wonderful story and inviting us to play in your sandbox!! This is my official CHIPS submission <3

• Inspired by The chips are set to fall by icopythefax

“And now that Scott Hunter is out, Ilya turns to his other Admiral to place the cup bet. #12 agrees pretty quickly, but is surprised Ilya clocked him. Ilya thinks it's weird no one else has. Sure, the guy is married to a woman, but still.” - The Chips are Set to Fall by icopythefax

~~~

"Bennett!" 

Eric turns around, breaking from a conversation with Carter. The Kingfisher is crowded enough that it takes him a second to register Ilya Rozanov scampering towards him like an excited puppy, weaving around tables and drunk patrons.

"Bennett! Vaughn! Good game today," he greets them.

The Admirals had just lost their first preseason game against Boston, 2-1. Rozanov is, as usual, charismatically smug about it.

"Here to gloat?" asks Eric, making sure to smile as he says it. Rozanov returns the grin, and says theatrically, "Me? Gloat? Never." His eyes scan the decor of the bar: dingy tables, faded pride flags, random vases of ancient dried flowers. The walls are mostly bare, but there's a signed Hunter jersey mounted in a frame. He seems to linger on it for a moment. 

"That's the one from the finals," Vaughn says, smirking. "You know. When we won." Eric doesn't bother fighting his grin. They did win!!

Rozanov smiles back with surprising sincerity. He looks like... a proud teacher? The expression is gone before Eric can consider it any further, and Rozanov goes back to his usual charm, declaring "Ah, yes, enjoy it while it lasts, Vaughny," with a clap on the back. His gaze lingers on Carter for a second, assessing. Then he moves on abruptly, turning to face Eric. "Did you all know? About Hunter, before the cup?" His face is suddenly serious.

"Uh, yeah, he told a couple of us right before." Vaughn says. "Why?" It comes out defensive, as it should. Why on earth should Rozanov care who Scott comes out to or doesn't?

"You all supported him?"

"Yeah, of course," Eric says, matching Carter's firm tone. "If you've got a problem --" 

Rozanov holds up his hands. "No, no. I was just curious. It's good he has support."

They all relax a little. Still a weird line of questioning, Eric thinks, but perhaps not aggressive?

"Did you know any gay people in Russia?" Vaughn asks, for some reason. "It's not safe there, is it?"

"I do not know," says Ilya. "I do not think so." He doesn't clarify which question he's answering.

His gaze shifts to Eric, who feels suddenly spotlit. Strange. Eric feels the sudden need to move, to get out of there. His eyes catch on Ilya's hair, gorgeous curls damp from the heat of the bar, and he looks away quickly. 

Rozanov keeps looking at him. "I am going to get some air," he announces to no one in particular. Then he leaves out the side door.

Carter stares at Eric. Eric shrugs. "He's a weird dude." 

But after a few moments, Eric follows him out the same door. Call it curiosity. That interaction was strange, and he wants to know what the deal was. Why was Rozanov even here, at Scott's boyfriend's bar, with the opposing team, when he could be literally anywhere in New York City?

He finds Rozanov outside smoking a cigarette. He makes an involuntary face; he hates the smell.

Rozanov rolls his eyes and stubs out the cigarette. "Come. Walk with me."

Eric glances around, then obeys.

"Trying to quit, anyway," the other man comments.

"That's good," says Eric.

"Did Scott tell you about the deal?" Rozanov asks.

"Deal?" says Eric.

"Does he not know?" Roznov asks, with some surprise.

"Know what?" Eric asks, genuinely puzzled. For reasons he can't identify, his heart rate speeds up.

"About you."

Eric doesn't respond. His legs have just informed his brain that they don't want to move automatically anymore, so all of his mental attention is currently taken up in picking his feet up and putting them down manually (podiatrically?), trying to match Rozanov's walking pace even as he's starting to lose feeling in his legs, and damn New York is cold, and what is even happening to him? This is weird. Eric is confused.

Rozanov gives him another look. "Gospodi. Please tell me you know, at least."

"Look, dude, I'm not sure what you're talking about, but I've got a nice warm bed waiting for me that I'd like to get to, so could you explain?" The words are out of Eric's mouth before he can stop them. "Fuck. Sorry. I meant to say that nicer."

Rozanov's mouth twitches. "Yes. I can explain." Eric waits. "Scott Hunter came out because I made him a deal." The flicker of a smile. "Whoever won the cup this year would come out."

Would -- what?

Eric looks at him. And looks at him.

And looks at him.

"And by come out, you mean..."

Ilya doesn't break his pace. "He is gay, as you know now. I am bisexual. You cannot tell anyone, obviously. As Vaughny put it, is not safe in Russia."

The world feels surreal. Eric manages to shake his head. "No, of course not. I won't tell anyone."

They keep walking. Eric hopes Rozanov knows where they're going, because he has no sense of direction right now. He thinks back through what Rozanov said and seizes upon a detail. 

"So when you say whoever won the cup ... were you just really confident that you or he would win?"

"I am always very confident," he says, clarifying nothing. "So. Are you in?"

Eric stops. "In?"

"For next year. In the unlikely event that New York wins again before you retire. Will you join? Make the deal?"

"To... come out?"

"Yes."

"As...?"

Rozanov gives him a look of disbelief.

Okay. Okay. So this guy's somehow clocked Eric's, like, theoretical bisexuality. Theoretical in that he's never actually kissed a guy, he just figures this word is the only explanation for him. Not that he's ever told anyone about it. It's all just been in his head, meditation and journalling and internet searches and books and that one TA from his Frida Kahlo class two decades ago; several years of confusion and then eventually a quiet understanding. Holly doesn't really know about it, because he's never really felt the need to share it. His teammates don't know about it, because nobody talks about that. Until recently, of course. But he doesn't have a smoothie barista boyfriend, just a book of reflections on the work of Emily Dickinson, a handdrawn smiley face on a paper about Autorretrato con pelo corto, and some thoughts in his head.

Thoughts which the Boston captain somehow knows? Or has guessed at?

"Look, dude, I have a wife," he hears himself say. It's a bad rebuttal, he knows it. It feels like trying to use a shield as a projectile weapon: all or nothing.

Rozanov rolls his eyes. "I am not asking you to kiss a man on the ice, Bennett. I did not ask Hunter to do that, either, he just likes cameras." As if Rozanov doesn't. "A social media post is enough. Look, we have to start somewhere. Hunter was brave and went first, yes? But we need someone to go second, and third, and fourth."

"Sorry, just to be clear." Eric feels foggy and blurry all over. But he can feel his heart thumping away under the tightness of his chest, alive and bold and so, so loud. "You think I'm... bisexual?"

He hasn't actually said that out loud since college. His vision comes back into focus a little.

Rozanov looks at him. "Yes."

Eric shakes his head in disbelief.

"Am I wrong?"

"How did you even know?" he asks, baffled.

Ilya smiles. Confirmation received. "I am perceptive."

Eric's heartrate finally slows. Awareness returns to his body, and he picks up the walking pace a little. Ilya matches him.

"How many more?" Eric has the presence of mind to ask. 

"More than you'd think." Ilya responds mysteriously.

Eric's thoughts fly ahead to the end of the season. "So no matter who wins..."

"To an extent. I don't have every team yet. But I will," he adds, matter-of-factly.

"Who...."

"No."

"Fair," Eric nods. "But seriously, how did you know?"

"I told you. I am perceptive."

"What did you perceive, though? I didn't think I, like, looked bisexual," Eric says awkwardly. "And I haven't told anyone, not in years."

"You did at some point?"

Eric's mind flashes back to the Frida Kahlo paper. "I wrote about it in college a little. It was all always... theoretical, though." He looks at Ilya, a little scared that the other man won't understand, or that this information will disqualify him from the deal he suddenly desperately wants to be part of.

But Ilya just nods. "You are literature student, I remember. There are many bisexual literature students. And you always carry yourself very carefully, perfectly controlled, like you are keeping things in their place. I know someone like you. It was easy. You are telling me nobody else has figured this out?" 

Eric shakes his head. 

"Wow. I need to start giving Hunter less credit."

Eric laughs. Ilya smiles. The world feels real again. It's a beautiful fall day. A lovely walk. A new friend.

"Are you in?" asks Ilya again.

Eric nods immediately. "Yes," he says. "I'm in."

They shake on it. Ilya smiles, and Eric beams right back.