Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

Gen, M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Luca Haas, Ottawa Centaurs Team Ensemble (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Coming Out, Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Ottawa Centaurs are the best team, post TLG, TLG Spoilers, Drunkenness, POV Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov Relationship Timeline Reveal

Language:

English

Collections:

hollanov supremacy, Heated Rivalry ➻ Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov / Shane Hollander, god bless Wyatt Hayes, HeatedRevelry, Finished golden ones, Heated Rivalry, 🐧 Heated Rivalry 🏒, *Heated rivalry melts my heart*

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-01 Words: 4,556 Chapters: 1/1

The Queerest Team in the NHL

Summary

“Man, are we the gayest team in the NHL or what?” Tanner Dillon joked.

“Ilya is bisexual,” Wyatt Hayes reminded him. Ilya raised his beer at Wyatt in thanks.

“The queerest team in the NHL,” Dillon corrected with barely a beat.

“We must be,” Shane said slowly, expression scrunched up as he seemed to seriously ponder the question. “There might be some teams with a closeted player, or maybe two, but five? Statistically speaking, that’s highly improbable.”

or

Luca Haas comes out to the team. Thank goodness queer sherpas Ilya, Shane, and Troy are there to guide him. And the Centaurs are supportive, obviously. Maybe too supportive.

Notes

I just couldn't stop thinking about poor Luca Haas and his canceled book so here we are. Spoilers for RM and TLG, and this takes place post-TLG. It's definitely humor, but this is Ilya POV, so you know...small mentions of death of a parent, underage sex, sex as an unhealthy coping mechanism, therapy, and all the regular Ilya Rozanov things.

It was always nice to have a free night somewhere warm during the season. Nicer now than when Shane had been in Montreal, definitely, because in those days, Ilya would have preferred a night off at home, at least when the Voyageurs were home as well, because then he could drive to Montreal to see Shane. But now Shane was here, sitting next to him at a South Florida bar, nursing a beer.  

It had been something of a feat to convince Shane to have a beer during the season. He was letting go of his ultra-strict diet bit by bit, but some days were worse than others. On some nights, Shane definitely wouldn’t even entertain the idea of a beer, which was fine. Ilya did not want to pressure Shane, and the team hadn’t tried to, either.  

But the Centaurs had won three road games in a row and were the top team in the division, and even Shane had deemed that a celebration worthy of a beer. It was nice, sitting at a table with his teammates, Shane seated next to him, loose and happy and about as relaxed as Shane Hollander ever got without the aid of an orgasm. Which Ilya hoped to give him later in the night, when they returned to their hotel room. Very quietly, of course, because all their teammates were in rooms on the same floor, and it seemed rude to rub it in their faces when their own wives and partners were back home in Ottawa.  

Also because Shane would be very embarrassed if they heard him having sex, though everyone must know that they did it. But no one had ever insisted they have separate rooms for the sake of professionalism or something, and somehow they always ended up with a room with one bed, too. It was clearly permission from whoever on the Centaurs staff booked their hotel rooms. It felt a lot like those early years, but better. Sexy and hot and needing to be discreet and quiet, but the stakes were not so high. 

“What about her?” Young was asking, pointing at a girl standing at the bar ordering a drink. Or, well, she must be a young woman. They were in America, and Ilya knew they didn’t let anyone under twenty-one into this bar because all their IDs had been checked on the way in. It was just that Ilya was getting to the age where everyone under twenty-five felt like a child to him. 

“She’s, um...pretty,” Luca Haas agreed. He was only barely twenty-one now. Last season, he had not been able to go to some bars in the U.S. with the team. Ilya looked at the woman Young and pointed out, and she was pretty, in that...young, college girl way. It seemed like all of them were blonde now, with straight hair ending in soft waves and quite a lot of makeup that highlighted their cheekbones and darkened their eyes with liner and eyeshadow and fake lashes. But she was pretty. 

“Well?” Young pressed, and when Ilya looked back at Luca, he was obviously floundering.  

“Well, I—” Luca fumbled, swallowing thickly. He was on his second beer but he looked almost more tense than Shane, so Ilya knew he had to step in. 

“Leave him alone, Young,” Ilya chastised, though gently. He remembered those days in hockey, when he had been young and none of the young players had been married, and everything had been a competition or a conversation about the sex they were having or the sex they were planning on having. “He doesn’t like hookups.” 

Luca looked at him with those big doe eyes, grateful to be saved, and maybe a little awed that Ilya remembered that Luca had said that to him once. Ilya would probably be awed, too, if one of his heroes had remembered things he’d said a year ago. Also he had some other suspicions about Luca, not that he planned to say anything about those. 

Young looked chastened, which was nice at least. Even the kids on this team were sweet, young and stupid the same way kids always were, but they were earnest.  

“Sorry, man,” he apologized immediately to Luca. “I’m not trying to pressure you. It just makes me sad that you’re always alone.” 

Ilya looked over at Shane where his husband was sitting next to him, and Shane had a soft look on his face, like he still couldn’t believe this team was real. Ilya still felt that way sometimes, after years with the Centaurs, but he knew what it was like for Shane after having spent all those years in Montreal. He figured a Montreal player wouldn’t have said that, would have ribbed Luca for not being man enough to fuck a lot of women or whatever. He wondered how much of that Shane had gotten over the years for being so presumably celibate. 

Luca was looking around the table, and some of the other pockets of conversation had stopped. Probably it had been when Ilya had scolded Young, because the team tended to stop and listen when Ilya said something in that voice, which was kind of flattering. Except now an entire table of hockey players was staring at Luca and Ilya wasn’t sure if Luca wanted that kind of attention. Ilya was thinking of something stupid he might say to draw the table’s attention back to him when Luca spoke again. 

“I am not so much interested in hookups, that is true,” Luca agreed, very slowly and very deliberately. Now everyone was looking at Luca, and Ilya could tell that the kid was aware of it. “If I were looking, though, I...um, well, I would be looking for men. Exclusively.” 

The table was silent for a long minute. Ilya felt a little smug at having called that one, except he didn’t have time to be smug, because he had to come up with something nice to say, something gentle and reassuring. Shane beat him to it. 

“We appreciate you opening up to us about that, Luca,” Shane said, very primly, and he sounded like such a dad that Ilya’s heart gave a little flutter in his chest. “I know how much courage it takes to be honest about those parts of yourself.” 

There were a few murmurs of agreement from around the table. It was probably better than whatever Ilya would have come up with to say.  

Luca gave a nervous little smile and shifted in his seat. “I suppose that...maybe it is not such a big deal now,” Luca said, gesturing at Shane and Ilya and Troy. “Maybe I should have said so sooner.” 

“No worries,” Dykstra brushed away with a wave of his hand. “You should get to do this on your own time, no matter if you’re the first or the tenth.” 

Luca’s eyes were a little watery, which Ilya understood. He loved this team. 

“Man, are we the gayest team in the NHL or what?” Tanner Dillon joked, and that thankfully broke the tension of the moment, which had been sweet and reassuring but had definitely been a lot. Ilya was glad, for Luca’s sake, that someone had made a joke to take some of the focus and pressure off of Luca. Ilya probably should have thought of one first. 

“Ilya is bisexual,” Wyatt Hayes reminded him. Ilya raised his beer at Wyatt in thanks. 

“The queerest team in the NHL,” Dillon corrected with barely a beat. 

“We must be,” Shane said slowly, expression scrunched up as he seemed to seriously ponder the question. “There might be some teams with a closeted player, or maybe two, but five? Statistically speaking, that’s highly improbable.” 

Ilya fought back the urge to laugh. Oh, Shane was much drunker than Ilya had realized. Had he gotten a second beer while Ilya had been distracted? Ilya didn’t think so. Shane was just such a lightweight since he drank so rarely, and it was adorable. 

“Yes, I had been thinking,” Luca began, “that maybe I should also...come out? To the fans, I mean. It’s quite difficult, to...well, to date, considering, and I am twenty-one already and—” 

Oh no, Luca was definitely drunker than Ilya had realized, too. He really hoped that Luca would not regret this conversation in the morning. Ilya silently vowed to keep a close eye on both Shane and Luca to try to make sure neither of them said anything he thought they’d regret when sober. That was going to be difficult. 

“Wait, are you a virgin?” Holmberg demanded, sounding horrified by the idea. Ilya wanted to bury his face in his hands. Sometimes he thought the kids were all right, and sometimes they said something like that. 

“I, well, I, um...” Luca fumbled. “Yes?” he squeaked, sounding uncertain about it even as he said it. His face was bright red. 

That did surprise Ilya, a little. He’d had his suspicions about Luca for some time, but when he’d been the one teasing Luca about it, Luca had been very insistent that he liked sex. He must have meant that he liked the idea in the abstract, that he wasn’t asexual. Some things you could be pretty sure you’d like, even before you tried them. 

“Is not such a big deal,” Ilya dismissed, trying to rescue Luca before this got out of hand. “Shane would maybe be a virgin still, if I did not come along.” 

“Hey,” Shane protested halfheartedly, and as Ilya had hoped, the whole table laughed. Ilya knew how much teasing Shane could take, at least. He wasn’t sure how much Luca Haas could take, not about this. 

“Didn’t he have sex with Rose Landry, though?” Boyle asked. Shane turned red, too. 

“Not...very successfully,” Shane surprised Ilya by saying. It could be because he was drunk or because he was also trying to take some of the heat off of Luca. “I think it was clear to her pretty quickly that I wasn’t, um...interested in women.” 

Several people groaned, maybe in sympathetic mortification or maybe at the thought that the only one among them who had had the opportunity to sleep with a movie star was someone who didn’t have the capacity to enjoy it. In theory, it was a shame, but Ilya was still quite pleased about it—even after all these years, even now when Rose was such a good friend to Shane. Ilya was very glad that Shane had had such disastrous attempts at sex with Rose Landry. 

“Wait, sorry, what?” Bood asked over the groans. “Ilya was your first? Like...first ever?”  

Shane and Ilya exchanged a look. They’d been fuzzy with a lot of people about the timeline of their relationship...definitely with the public, but not with the team exactly on purpose. The team was actually pretty good about not prying into Shane and Ilya’s personal life too much—except now, when Ilya had flung the door wide open. Ilya gave Shane a look that he hoped told Shane that how much he wanted to share was Shane’s decision. Shane nibbled at the inside of his lip for a minute before he seemed to decide. 

“I had a few girlfriends in high school, but things never really went further than just kissing and...whatever. Clothes, uh...pretty much stayed on.” Shane looked mortified to be saying the words, and Ilya really wondered what whatever actually was. Probably touching boobs or something, but maybe drunk Shane couldn't find a prim enough way to say it. “The fact that I was relieved when we broke up was probably a sign.” 

Ilya snorted. “Also that you could not stop looking at my dick. That was a sign.” 

Shane hit him on the arm, but he was smiling. He looked at Luca. “But yeah, we were nineteen, and Ilya is being an asshole like usual, but he’s probably right that it would have taken years longer for me if he hadn’t made the first move.” 

The table fell weirdly silent. “More than ten fucking years,” Bood murmured into his drink. 

“What the fuck,” Dillon whispered at the same time. 

“I was twenty-three my first time,” Troy piped in from the far end of the table into the awkward silence. “Trying to find a guy when you’re that deep in the closet...it’s almost impossible. It’s mostly luck, finding someone compatible who you also know will keep your secret.” 

Ilya looked down the table at Troy and gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. He was very glad Troy had said that, for Luca’s sake. It was also very sad for him, how alone he’d been. Troy nodded back at Ilya, so hopefully he’d understood. 

“What about you, Ilya? When was your first time...with a guy?” Luca asked, turning those sweet little doe eyes on him again. And Ilya couldn’t help but see in him the boy who had idolized Ilya Rozanov, who had had Ilya’s poster on his wall growing up. “Unless...you don’t have to share if you are not comfortable.” 

Luca was looking a little relieved by Shane and Troy’s stories, like maybe he believed there wasn’t anything wrong with him for not having had sex yet. And there wasn’t. And Ilya would maybe ruin that by saying the truth, and also maybe make this about him in a way he didn’t want to. He could say he was not comfortable, or he could lie, but Ilya had already lied so much and for so long. So much of his life had been like that...not just with Shane, but with so much else. All the times when he had been asked a question, and a truthful answer would only have made things awkward, so he had learned to make a joke instead. 

“I was maybe fourteen or fifteen,” he admitted. He had definitely been fourteen, but it felt better to add some ambiguity to the timeline. The table went silent again.  

“Fourteen?” Young echoed, looking horrified. 

“What the fuck,” Dillon whispered again. 

“But like...with someone your own age, right?” Dykstra asked with a grimace. It said a lot about this group of hockey players that they did not think it was cool, or some sign of his great masculine prowess. People back then hadn’t known about his coach’s son, for obvious reasons, but they had known about the girls he had slept with, and at the time the other boys had found him very cool and enviable. It was good that the team had not asked his first time with a girl, because that had been even younger. 

“Yes, it was someone close to my own age,” Ilya assured him. “It is not bad in the way that you are thinking.” 

It was bad in a different way, and Ilya knew that now. He’d talked to his therapist about that a lot, a lot more than he’d expected to. About those years after his mother had died, and he’d been so desperate to feel something that wasn’t sadness and anger. How he had spent so many years chasing conquests because it was the only time that anyone touched him with affection for more than a few seconds, more than a congratulatory hug or a pat on the back from a teammate. 

But now Shane’s hand came to rest on his knee under the table, a warm, steady pressure. Shane usually did not do that in front of the team, but he knew about this, a little at least. Talking to Shane about the bad parts of his life was still hard, still felt like he was contaminating all of Shane’s goodness. But he was getting better at it. 

“Ilya has a different attitude toward risk than I do. I tried to hook up with a random guy like...twice, and it was so nerve-wracking that I barely enjoyed it at all,” Shane said, squeezing Ilya’s knee, and it was obvious that he was trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. Ilya was very grateful. 

“Also because they were not me,” Ilya said. “And they could never compare.” Shane rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. 

“Yes, Ilya is an absolute god of sex. Just one taste and nothing else will ever satisfy.” 

There were several snorts and laughs around the table. Interestingly, this wasn’t any weirder than when he’d been in a group of hockey guys talking about straight sex. That was nice, and probably good for Luca if he started dating and needed someone to talk to about it. Ilya would listen, of course, but maybe he’d want to talk to some of the other babies close to his own age. 

“Yes, I should probably...come out to the public,” Luca said again, like he was trying to talk himself into it. “So I would not be...too nervous to enjoy anything.” 

Ilya wondered if he might be too nervous to enjoy anything anyway, but he didn’t say that out loud. Shane enjoyed sex quite a lot, and he was one of the most high-strung people Ilya had ever known. So he knew there was hope for Luca, too. 

“You shouldn’t feel pressured to come out, not unless you’re ready,” Holmberg said, and Ilya was very proud of the kids again.  

“But the longer I wait...if I am older, people will expect me to have experience, and then anyone I try to date will probably break up with me because I have no idea what I’m doing,” Luca complained, dropping his head onto the table and burying his face in his arm. Young patted Luca consolingly on the back. “What if I’m bad at sex?” came Luca’s muffled voice. 

Ilya fought the urge to laugh. It was a very reasonable thing to be concerned about, really, especially if you’d never had sex. Some people who had sex regularly should probably be concerned that they might be bad at sex, too. 

“Being good at sex is not only about experience,” Ilya said soothingly. Luca lifted his head from where it was buried in his arm and gave Ilya a long-suffering look. Most of the table was giving him the same look. “I am serious!” 

“Easy for you to say, sex god Ilya Rozanov,” Tanner Dillon said, waggling his eyebrows. It was probably a bad thing that Shane had said that, even as a joke. Ilya had a feeling that this joke might keep coming back to haunt him. Though there were worse things they could say. 

“Yes, experience is helpful, like with everything,” Ilya acknowledged. “It is good to be familiar with the...anatomy you are working with.”  

“He’s talking about the clit,” Young said in a stage whisper. A few giggles erupted around the table. 

“And the prostate,” Holmberg added, and Ilya maybe would have chastised them for making a joke out of it when he was trying to say something serious, but he was mostly very pleased that they even knew that a prostate could be involved in sex, so he didn’t. 

“And there are some...default things, things most people like,” Ilya continued, ignoring the aside. “When you are hooking up with someone for the first time, it is good to try these default things first. And yes, they work, usually. But people are all different, and being good at sex is not just about learning a skill. You must be...perceptive. Try something and pay attention to how the person reacts to it. It is easier when you know them better, when you are better at reading their reactions. Also, you can just talk to them, ask them what they like. Sometimes they don’t know either, and that is when you must try new things and pay attention.” 

A few of his teammates were nodding in agreement, which made Ilya feel hopeful that their girlfriends and wives were satisfied. Tanner Dillon appeared to be mulling this over very deeply, which might be why he didn’t have a wife or a girlfriend. And Luca looked a little relieved to hear this, like perhaps he wasn’t totally doomed, and that had been Ilya’s main aim. Luca sat up again in his chair, looking a little nervous, then spoke. 

“Do most guys...the first time with another guy, I mean, do you know which...uh, role you want to take?” he asked, flushing. 

“Yes,” Shane said confidently at the same time as Troy said, “No.” Shane and Troy looked at each other, both of their expressions completely confused. Ilya snorted. 

“You must forgive Shane. He has very strong preference,” Ilya said, placing his hand on top of Shane’s and patting it softly. “Not everybody does. Some people like doing both. Some people do not like doing either one.” 

Luca looked stunned by that. “Really?” 

Ilya shrugged. “I have not had sex with a man who is not Shane in close to ten years,” he admitted. “But yes, I think so.” 

Luca looked like he’d been given a lot to think about. If they gave him too much to think about, it might break his sweet little drunk brain, so Ilya almost hoped that if he had any more questions, he’d save them until later. Maybe until he was totally sober. 

“I think I do want to come out,” Luca said determinedly. “Soon, probably. Troy, can you tell Harris I’ll talk to him about it?” 

Troy looked very serious, and also like he really wished Harris was there, which Ilya understood. But maybe it was better that Harris wasn’t. Maybe it was better that Luca got to hear first from the men who had been in the same situation as he was in, in the closet with all the pressures of the world and fame and hockey culture on top of it. Maybe Harris could tell Luca about all the guys who were happy and confident and out and proud later. 

“If you say it’s okay that I tell him,” Troy said, and Luca smiled.  

“It’s okay,” he affirmed. 

“Maybe his branding will be ‘The Queerest Hockey Team in the NHL’,” Ilya suggested with a grin. Troy shook his head, smiling. 

“I think he could have used that already, if he’d wanted to,” Troy pointed out, and he was probably right. They could comfortably call themselves the queerest team in the NHL even now, before Luca came out, considering statistics and all, like Shane had said. But not everyone had welcomed Troy and Shane and Ilya coming out with open arms. Quite a lot of people had very nasty things to say, mostly from anonymous accounts online. But the Centaurs were winning lots of games with all their queer players. That was the greatest argument they could make against the assholes who somehow equated fucking other men with weakness, and it was the only one that people like that might actually listen to. 

“Maybe he should,” Ilya suggested. “Maybe certain people would be very mad when the team that brags about being queerest team in the NHL wins the Stanley Cup.” 

Shane groaned. “We aren’t winning the cup this year,” Shane said, very reasonably, “There’s no way.” 

“Not with that attitude we’re not,” Bood called from across the table. 

“We were in the playoffs last year, and now we have three-time Stanley Cup champion Shane Hollander,” Ilya said with a raised eyebrow. “We are first place in our division. Why will we not win the cup this year?” 

Shane looked flustered and overwhelmed, which was one of the ways Ilya liked him best. “You’re fucking...jinxing it,” he protested. Hockey players were all superstitious in some way or another. Ilya just shook his head. 

“No, I do not jinx things,” Ilya insisted. “Last year, I said we would make the playoffs, and we made the playoffs. I say things and they happen. I am magic.” 

Ilya waved his hands in the air like he was casting some spell. The table cheered like they fully believed it. Some of the rest of the bar patrons were looking at them now, probably wondering what this rowdy group of half-drunk men was yelling about. So Ilya waited until they had quieted down so he could say the next part more quietly, out of respect for Luca not officially being out yet. Even if he was planning on announcing it, he should be able to do so on his own terms, and no because some drunk had heard Ilya say it in a South Florida bar. 

“The queerest team in the NHL will win the Stanley Cup, and then we will all kiss our boyfriends or husbands on the ice. We will find Luca a boyfriend so he can join. No one will even remember Scott Hunter after that,” Ilya declared very seriously. Young released a wolf-whistle, and Luca was flushed but smiling. A couple their teammates were pounding their fists on the table in support. “Straight guys, you can also kiss your wives and girlfriends on the ice, but I do not think anyone will pay attention or care.” 

“We should all kiss each other,” Bood suggested, “just to confuse them.” 

Several people laughed. “I’m not kissing you, Bood,” Evan Dykstra protested. Ilya wasn’t sure what his objection was. Zane Boodram was a very attractive man, but Ilya couldn’t really account for the taste of straight men. 

“No, you kiss Nick, obviously. Defensive pairs kiss each other,” Bood declared, like that was some well-known hockey rule. Dykstra looked at Nick Chouinard, and they both just shrugged. 

“Wait, I call dibs on Luca if he doesn’t have a boyfriend by June!” Young insisted, probably too loudly. Ilya gave him a look. 

“If I am out, people will think you are my boyfriend,” Luca pointed out, looking completely bewildered by the whole exchange. 

“Well I’m not kissing Holmberg,” Young protested, making a face. Holmberg turned to Young, clearly offended. 

“What the fuck is wrong with kissing me?” he protested. 

“I call dibs on Hazy!” Tanner Dillon yelled. 

“What? You can’t just call dibs,” Bood protested. “What if I want to kiss Hazy?” 

Shane turned to look at Ilya. What the fuck, he mouthed, very clearly, as all their straight teammates argued about the fairest way to decide who should kiss each other if they won the Stanley Cup. Ilya could not help the smile that found its way to his face, and he brought Shane’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss against his finger where his wedding ring was. Usually Shane did not like public affection much, but he didn’t seem to mind this. 

“Are they serious?” Shane asked aloud after a minute, his dark eyes darting back and forth, trying to follow three different arguments going on at once. Lots of people seemed to want to claim Wyatt for some reason, and Wyatt was magnanimously offering to kiss more than one person.  

“I have no idea,” Ilya admitted honestly. They might be serious. They might be drunk and think they were serious only to realize how ridiculous it was the next morning. It might be very clearly a joke to all of them. All three options seemed equally likely. “I guess we will just have to win the Stanley Cup to find out.”