Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Gen

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander & Yuna Hollander

Characters:

Yuna Hollander, Shane Hollander, David Hollander, Scott Hunter (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Yuna Hollander Is A Good Mother, Autistic Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander and Scott Hunter's Fight in Episode: s01e03 Hunter

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-14 Words: 3,052 Chapters: 1/1

Family Resemblance

Summary

Yuna Hollander loves her son, and tries so hard to understand him, but sometimes he's utterly inexplicable to her. When he gets into a fight for the first time in his career, she's convinced there's a story there, even if Shane insists it's a simple misunderstanding.

Notes

Vaguely inspired by Chirp Chirp by Jetplane, in that I was reading that fic and suddenly felt fascinated by the idea of Yuna trying to figure out what caused that fight.

Idk why I decided to have Yuna bully Scott, but I figure she would. He's very bully-able. It's why I love him.

“Has Shane Hollander ever fought anyone?” blares the announcer, a new guy whose name Yuna does not care to remember.  

“Good question,” Yuna tells the screen.

“There was that kid in… the one with the braces?” David says, from beside her on the couch.

“When they were eight?” Yuna asks. “They were fighting because Shane told him his dog wasn’t at a farm upstate, he was just dead. I think Scott Hunter knows what—”

Yuna cuts herself off.

“You were going to say Scott Hunter knows what death is, and then remembered he’s an orphan, huh?” David asks.

“You’re prosecuting thought crimes now?” Yuna asks. “God, I hope Shane didn’t say anything awful to get Hunter to throw a punch. I didn’t know that guy had it in him.”

“Shane started the fight,” David says.

“Shane started it?” Yuna asks. “Our Shane?”

“Maybe Hunter said something racist?” David asks.

“Shane wouldn’t punch someone over that,” Yuna dismisses. “He’d just tell me and I’d destroy him.”

“Terrifying,” David says, rising to his feet. “I’m going to go heat-up some leftovers, if you want to stew.”

“Thank you!” Yuna says.

What would provoke Shane to physical violence? The answer lies in Shane’s emotions, something Yuna has always struggled with. When Shane was growing up, and other parents talked about how expressive and demanding their children were, Yuna was always faced with a reticent child who wouldn’t tell her he was suffering until he was already broken. She’s spent years trying to decode her son’s micro expressions, and she’s still… not the best at it, to her eternal grief. It’s hard not to feel like a failure of a mother when you can’t even tell when your son is in pain.

On one particularly dark day, she’d even asked a doctor about it, and received a sharp rebuke that still haunts her. The doctor had seemed confident that there was nothing medically concerning, just a cold and unfeeling mother, and that had been that. Decoding Shane has been her biggest priority ever since. Balancing the urge to ask probing questions to find out how her son ticks, with respecting his privacy and autonomy… it’s a toughie, but it’s part of her job. She doesn’t think she’s very good at it, but David helps, and they’ve muddled through ever since.

For years, hockey had been their one unifying force: Yuna always knew what Shane was thinking where hockey was involved. Recently, even that has seemed to slip, Shane back to inscrutable little smiles. It’s maddening. And this fight is the icing on that cake: why did Shane throw a punch?

“You want some?” David asks, scooping some spaghetti onto his garlic bread.

“I’ll pass,” Yuna says. “What do you think made him fight Hunter?”

“I mean, we could just ask him,” David says. “But… if you ask me, he was spoiling for a fight.”

“Hunter?” Yuna asks.

“Shane,” David corrects. “How often does he slide over after a game ends to taunt the loser? Hunter probably pissed him off, and he held onto it for weeks. You know how he gets when he’s angry.”

It’s a solid hypothesis. Unfortunately, it still doesn’t answer the core question, of what made Shane angry enough to throw a punch. It just stretches out the timeline a little. What was the inciting event?

“Did you social media check for lip-readers?” David asks.

No, she hadn’t. Unfortunately, the lip readers have very little to work with: the cameramen didn’t realise anything was happening until about halfway through, and even then, only part of the footage was aired. Scott Hunter is captured saying what can only be “You fucking heard me, Hollander!” and Shane says “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”, which… huh. Why would Shane fight over something he doesn’t understand? Yuna pauses there, because everything else is after the fight, and kind of pointless.

“Nothing useful,” Yuna says.

“He’ll probably be free from press soon,” David says. “You can just ask.”

And ask Yuna does. Shane answers on the third ring.

“Look, mom, I know,” Shane says. “I shouldn’t have used that word, I’m sorry.”

“What word?” Yuna asks.

Shane is silent on the other end of the line.

“Shane, you’re not in trouble,” Yuna says. “I know the rules: what happens on the ice stays on the ice, right? As long as you don’t have a permanent blood feud with the House of Hunter, we can explain it away.”

“Hmm,” Shane says. “I called him a pussy.”

“Don’t do that again,” Yuna says. “But it’s fine. Gives you a bit of edge, I guess. Good thing you fought Hunter, he’s not going to want to make a big deal out of it either. His image is as clean-cut as yours. Maybe more.”

“I’m glad I’m still so perfectly marketable, mom,” Shane says. “I’m fine, by the way.”

Yuna cringes. She really had meant to be reassuring, but her brain jumps easily to strategy and not so easily to emotions. Usually, Shane appreciates that, but not when he’s upset, which he clearly is.

“I’m glad you’re fine, physically,” Yuna says, treading delicately. “But can I ask what he said?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Shane says. “I overreacted. Misunderstood. I’ll apologise tomorrow.”

“You fought him over a misunderstanding?” Yuna repeats. She doesn’t mean for it to sound so sceptical, but… yeah, no. She’s sceptical, she just doesn’t want her already irritated son to know that.

“Yes,” Shane says, missing her tone signals in a way that benefits her, for once. “He didn’t mean what I thought he meant.”

“And what did you think he meant?” Yuna asks.

“Not important,” Shane says. “And no, it wasn’t bigoted, I already said to the press. Scott’s a nice guy, he wouldn’t do that. We fought it out, we’re even or whatever, it’s over. Is there anything else?”

“No,” Yuna says. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

But sorry, Shane, that is absolutely not going to cut it.

*

“Shane?” Hayden asks, confused. “I don’t know, he won’t tell me either.”

“Nothing at all?” Yuna asks.

“I guess Scott seemed pretty fucked up, during the game?” Hayden says. “I mean, you saw.”

“Yeah,” Yuna says.

She’s far from an Admirals fan, but everyone has followed Hunter’s career. The handsome, pouting star with the tragic backstory was an object of Shane’s childhood fascination too, and Yuna has spent more time watching Hunter’s game than any of Shane’s rivals, sans maybe Rozanov. Yesterday was not his best. He skated like the ice was fighting against him, overcooked half his passes, and seemed to lack the confidence to shoot, passing up every opportunity even when he was clearly the best man for the job. He was still one of the better performers for the Admirals, but when your generational talent and chief playmaker is in a slump, the whole team tends to suffer. Merely playing well becomes not good enough: you need to excel, every day, every game, and Scott Hunter did not do that last night.

“But Shane was the one who punched first, so I don’t know,” Hayden says. “He keeps defending Scott, though, saying it wasn’t his fault. They went to breakfast and talked it over.”

“They went to breakfast?” Yuna asks. “Why?”

“I guess Shane felt bad?” Hayden says. Yuna can almost hear the head scratching at the other end. “You don’t think Shane did that thing, do you?”

“That thing?” Yuna asks.

“You know, when we’re joking around, and he tries to join in, and he accidentally goes way too far?” Hayden says.

“Ah,” Yuna says. “That thing.”

“Scott accepted his apology, either way. Shane says they’re friends now. I thought they were friends before, but whatever.”

“Thank you, Hayden,” Yuna says. “Is there any chance you have Scott Hunter’s number?”

“Uh, I do, but do you really want people thinking Shane needs his mommy to fight his battles?” Hayden asks.

“Let me handle that.”

*

“Hello?” a bleary voice asks.

“Hello, Mr Hunter, this is Yuna Hollander. Is this a good time to talk?” Yuna says.

“Mrs Hollander!” Scott Hunter says. “Yes, uh, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Is she a nun?

“I was just calling about your fight with my son,” Yuna says.

“You… what?” Scott Hunter asks. “Why?”

“I’ve been talking to Rolex for a few weeks now about a joint advertisement between you and Shane,” Yuna says. “A big thing about rivals in sport, allied in taste. There’s some stiff competition, but I think I’m close to getting the spot. It’s a big opportunity for Shane, which is why I was so sad to see this little tiff.”

All true, so far. Now for the lie.

“Now, I’ve had a lot of problems with Shane over the years. He’s a very difficult child, you know,” Yuna says, before pausing meaningfully.

Hook baited. Now to see if the fish will bite.

“No, of course he isn’t!” Scott Hunter says. “It was just a misunderstanding! Shane is a great guy, really! You should be proud to have him as a son.”

If only Shane was as easy to read as Scott Hunter. People pleaser, non-confrontational, thinks we should all get along like we used to in middle school. Soft as a marshmallow, if a marshmallow could get clinical depression. Terrified at the thought of any parent not loving their child wholly and utterly.

“Now Mr Hunter, don’t worry,” Yuna continues. “I raised him, after all! I know sometimes Shane can say the most outrageous things, and I understand you feeling provoked.”

“Shane is amazing!” Scott Hunter insists. “He apologised, even though it was completely my fault!”

Jackpot.

“How was that?” Yuna asks sweetly.

“Well,” Scott Hunter says. “I don’t know, actually. I thought it was a pretty weak chirp, to be honest, but he took it way harder than I expected…”

“A weak chirp?” Yuna repeats. “He didn’t say anything too harsh to you, so you went for something mild?”

Silence. Oh dear.

“It was the only thing you could think of, huh?” Yuna asks. “It’s okay sweetheart, you can tell me.”

She knows the endearment will work. Scott Hunter remains desperate for a mother’s love. She hates herself for it, a little, but she’ll do much worse than emotionally manipulate a man she barely knows to ensure her son’s wellbeing.

“He said,” Scott Hunter starts, and then continues very quickly. “He said, I hope next time we play, you decide to show up.”

The speed almost hides the way that the words bring him to the brink of tears, but Yuna can hear it. She’s almost impressed: Shane seems to have struck directly at Scott Hunter’s (and every people pleaser’s) biggest insecurity: letting others down. Then she remembers that this is a thirty year old orphan, who takes to casual small talk at events with the intensity of someone who won’t have another human conversation for a week, a type of despondent loneliness that she usually only sees in the extremely old, and just feels bad.

“Anyway, I told him that he was starting to sound like Rozanov, and he just went ballistic,” Scott Hunter says.

Record scratch. Backup. Rewind.

“You told him he sounded like Rozanov?” Yuna asks. “That’s it?”

“Well, I said you’re starting to sound like him, so maybe he thought I meant someone else?” Scott Hunter says. “Anyway, it was my fault, clearly I hit something I wasn’t supposed to.”

What logic. Yuna does not understand how this man has not been fleeced of everything he owns, up to and including the clothes on his back, with this level of self-loathing.

“Why specifically Rozanov?” Yuna asks. “Was it a particularly Rozanov-esque chirp?”

“Not really,” Scott Hunter says. “I’d played against him the day before, and I guess he was on my mind? Like I said, my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Yuna tells him. “You accidentally hit a nerve, he accidentally hit a nerve, and he’s the one who skated up to you after the game was already finished. Stop blaming yourself.”

It doesn’t come out in a remotely compassionate way, but honestly, blaming himself for accidentally pissing Shane off, and saying it merited a sucker punch? How has this man survived so long with such terrible self-preservation?

“Look, you can’t blame Shane for everything,” Scott Hunter lectures her. “He’s your son. You should love and support him, always!”

“I don’t blame Shane for everything, Scott, I was manipulating you,” Yuna interrupts.

She can feel a ‘you can die any time, and then what!’ coming, and she hasn’t actually done anything to deserve it. She’s also pretty sure Scott Hunter can make her feel guilty regardless. There’s a reason they wheel him out at all the fundraisers. Self-loathing aside, he’s extremely emotionally intelligent, which is probably why the self-loathing irks her so much. If he’d spent more time exploiting his celebrity and less time pitying himself, she wouldn’t hear so many rejections from sponsors on the grounds of hockey isn’t our market, really.

“You had information I needed, and I pushed on your trauma to get it. I’m being sincere when I say that this fight wasn’t your fault. I also think you need therapy,” Yuna says, forgoing the sugar sweet voice for her usual bluntness.

“Oh,” Scott Hunter says. “Well that was rude. Maybe you need therapy.”

“Probably,” Yuna agrees. “But not as much as you. I’m pretty sure all anyone has to do is bring up your parents and you’d give them a bunch of money.”

Silence, again.

“How are you not completely broke?” Yuna presses.

“You’re a very mean person,” Scott Hunter tells her, hurt evident in his voice.

“I’d give you some of that meanness if I could,” Yuna jokes. “I think you need it more than I do. I can hook you up with a good financial planner?”

“My finances are fine. I’m going to go now,” Scott Hunter says. “Unless another Hollander wants a turn at beating up the stupid, exploitable orphan?”

Scott Hunter hangs up before Yuna can respond. Oh dear. She hopes she didn’t make him cry.

“Do we hate Scott Hunter now?” David asks.

Yuna tries not to jump. Serves her right for taking a call at the dining room table.

“No, he seems lovely,” Yuna says. “I think he hates us now, though.”

“Bummer,” David says, moving to rub away the tension in her shoulders. “I was going to exploit him for all his money.”

Yuna freezes.

“How much did you hear?” Yuna asks.

“Enough to feel bad for the guy,” David says. “I’ll apologise on your behalf.”

“Thank you,” Yuna says. “Maybe not for a while though. He seems pretty sick of us.”

*

“What is the nature of your relationship with my son?” Yuna asks the mirror. “How long has this relationship existed? Do you have blackmail on him?”

“What are you doing now?” David asks, from bed, where he’s curled up with the latest New Yorker, and its cover of illustrated hats.

“I’m going to call Ilya Rozanov,” Yuna says.

David takes a deep breath, sighs loudly, and puts away the New Yorker. Uh oh.

“What is this about, exactly?” David asks.

“I told you,” Yuna says. “I want to know what they fought about.”

“You know what they fought about!” David says. “Hunter compared him to Rozanov, and he got pissed off because he’s still smarting over being drafted second. And then he felt bad about it, because he’s the one who skated over.”

“Maybe,” Yuna says. “But I feel like there’s more to it.”

“You want there to be more to it, because you’re convinced there’s some massive thing in his life that you’re missing,” David says. “There isn’t, hon.”

“But what if there is?” Yuna asks.

She sits on the mattress, and smooths out the little creases that form next to her when she does.

David takes her hand, and she looks up at him. His eyes are warm.

“Then he’ll tell you,” David says. “He loves you. Maybe he’ll take some time, but he’ll get there. Remember when that kid tried to bully him off the team?”

Yuna still feels the fiery rage in her sternum at the memory. The stupid kid was taking after his parents, big meatheads who couldn’t stand their son being beat by anyone, let alone a foreigner (never mind that Yuna was a born Canadian with English ten times better than theirs, honestly, could they even read?). Shane had tried to rise above it, for weeks, until one day he sat down and told Yuna that someone was trying to make hockey no fun for him, and could she please help?

“And remember how he looked at you after you made that kid’s dad cry?” David continues.

“Yeah,” Yuna says.

So many years of trying to be the perfect mother, to smooth over her sharp edges and be warm and nurturing, the way that paediatrician said she wasn’t… and it was her anger that had Shane smiling up at her, gap-toothed and proud. That was the day she decided that whatever her and Shane had, it didn’t matter if it was different to the other kids and their mothers: it was theirs, and it was good. Maybe Yuna Hollander is better at getting her son sponsorships and handling his schedule than she is at reading him, but that’s fine with them.

“He loves you,” David says. “And you’re doing your best.”

“I guess it’s probably a bit stupid to try and call Rozanov,” Yuna admits. “It’ll just give him fodder to chirp Shane with. I still think I’m missing something about that fight, though.”

“Maybe he just takes after his mother,” David says.

Yuna looks at him, confused.

“He saw a sad, exploitable orphan and decided to bully him,” David says. “Then didn’t like when the orphan grew claws.”

“What claws?” Yuna asks.

“He called Shane and convinced him to veto the Rolex ad,” David says. “They’re doing it with Federer and Tsonga instead.”

Yuna considers revenge. Crushes her fingers into the mattress, and imagines it’s Hunter’s stupidly photogenic face. Then pauses. She’s overreacting: it’s a fair (albeit extremely petty) response to her harsh words.

“I guess I did kind of ask for it,” Yuna says. “We’re even now.”

“See?” David says. “He gets it from you!”