Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander

Additional Tags:

Farce, Divorce, News Media, NHL-Typical Homophobia (Hockey RPF), Crack Treated Seriously

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-06 Words: 2,251 Chapters: 1/1

The Power Play Divorce

Summary

Based off this Tumblr post.
The league implements a series of rules designed to stop Shane and Ilya from playing together on the Centaurs power play unit, culminating in a rule that prohibits two married players from being on the same shift. Shane and Ilya immediately file for divorce.

Notes

Thank you to slaygentford for making the hilarious original Tumblr post, and for permission to publish this fic! Everything even remotely funny in this fic came from their post.

Behind the Power Play Divorce

How The NHL's Anti Hollander-Rozanov Rule Lead to Their Divorce.

By Lucy Liang

Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov are not the type of NHL stars to bring any real upsets to a press conference. Neither are they the kind of hockey player to willingly bring anything controversial to the press. In post-game interviews and on press days, Rozanov is playful and Hollander is professional, and both give away very little that isn’t the approved party line. After the world-shaking revelations of their relationship and the subsequent announcement of their marriage, they had been determined to keep things low key.

The legendary players and famed hockey husbands have overturned their existing media strategy by openly announcing their intention to file for divorce at a press conference called for by the Ottawa Centaurs. What precipitated this split was the very thing that had brought them together in the first place: the game of hockey.

“We are very happy in our relationship, and very much in love, but this is a decision made for the good of the team,” was Hollander’s stoic explanation, hand entwined with his husbands’ on top of the black tablecloth in a statement of silent unity.

Rozanov, with red eyes and a blank expression that seemed to be manfully holding back tears, added, “We are hockey players, and that means we must give up some things for the team sometimes.”

The phrasing of their statements is nothing out of the ordinary for a hockey player. It is the same bland team-forward phrasing that the hockey power couple had used to announce the extremely team-friendly contracts they had signed to extend their term with the Ottawa Centaurs. It is the same hockey-player duckspeak that they sprout when either of them are interviewed about a thrilling goal or assist. It is the exact cadence that all NHL players adopt sooner or later; the conformist cookie-cutter talking points of being humble, doing it all for the team, and just being happy to be there and to be playing hockey. Except that it has come at the expense of the first couple to have married each other within the NHL, as the result of a blatantly discriminatory rule by the NHL, which has just instated a rule that no married players may play on the same line.

This ruling is the latest iteration in a series of rule changes that seem designed especially to curtail Hollander and Rozanov’s effectiveness during power plays. First was the controversial rule that no two centres were allowed on the ice during a power play. Ottawa head coach Brandon Wiebe had responded by switching Hollander and Rozanov to the same line during key games and listing Rozanov on the left wing, which had briefly upset the effectiveness of the second line before the team acclimated and continued their seemingly unstoppable win streak during their run, which took them all the way to the final round of the playoffs. The next season came with amendments to the rule, with stricter stipulations limiting players changing positions. Rozanov, previously being nominally listed as a winger when in a line with his ex-husband, made a bafflingly effortless switch to playing as a left winger in truth, playing in a line with Hollander and a rotating lineup of the Centaurs’ right wingers until they found their pace with Troy Barret and played out an energetic and ruthless Cup run that culminated in the Centaurs’ second Stanley Cup finals appearance in as many years, and the first ever Stanley Cup win in the team’s history. In response to “the Husband Line” making history, the NHL has included yet another rule intended to curtail Hollander and Rozanov - and any other potential “husband lines” in the future. No player may play in the same line, or play at the same time on the ice, as another player that they are married to. As the only married couple both playing for the NHL, it is glaringly obvious who this rule had been made for.

“We are in communication with the League and the NHLPA, and obviously we find this rule change to be hostile and discriminatory, but Ilya and I will be legally divorced until the rule is overturned. We have a commitment to each other, and part of that commitment and the foundation of our relationship is that we make each other better, on the ice and off it. The rule was designed to undermine our power play unit, and that’s not something that we’re willing to compromise. The whole team has been working really hard and we’re really determined to give our all for next season. That’s why Ilya and I will be divorcing so that we can maintain the integrity of our power play unit,” announced Hollander.

“A cup ring is almost as good as a wedding ring, and we’ve given each other both,” added Rozanov. “A marriage is a commitment, but so is playing hockey, and playing for the same team. When hockey is so important to both our lives, we think it’s more important to show the commitment by continuing to play together. We love each other and our relationship is as strong as ever, and we are going to show that by being part of the same power play unit on the ice, and by both giving it all for the team. We are in talks with the organisation about this rule, but we will do whatever it takes to keep playing until this discriminatory rule is overturned.”

Rumours have been floating around that the Husband Line would not have continued into the upcoming season, so the impetus for this rule change seems likely to be aimed mainly at limiting the Centaurs’ power play. According to inside sources, Hollander has allegedly been practicing heavily with Zane Boodram and Luca Haas as his wingers, while Wiebe has been trialing Rozanov with Barrett on the right wing and centre Kliment Karakulov, who has been called up from the Belleville Centaurs.

Whatever the plan for the next season, Rozanov and Hollander are as united as ever. Rozanov permitted a single, perfect tear to glide down his stony, carven face as the two exited the press room, and a few well-positioned photographers managed to snap now-viral photos of Hollander comforting Rozanov and wiping away his tears just outside the door.

The NHL has not yet responded to requests for comments.

Shane made an indistinct noise of rage as he closed the article. It was not a noise that Shane often made, as he usually preferred to grind his teeth and seethe when truly angered.

“If they think you would play wing for Carrie,” he began, death grip on his phone turning his knuckles white. “If they think we’re going to resort to putting that…”

Ilya took a break from blowing his nose to look reproachfully at Shane through his puffy, red rimmed eyes.

“Fine,” Shane said. “Karakulov isn’t bad. For the 1C of the worst team in the AHL. But in what universe would he be on a line with you.”

“Shane,” Ilya said wetly. “I already live in a nightmare world where you’ve grown tired of me and don’t want me anymore. Anything could happen. The world doesn’t make sense anymore.”

Shane gave Ilya a look. Ilya looked back at Shane. His eyes glistened and his lips trembled. Shane wilted.

“I’ll propose to you again,” Shane said. “The moment the season is over. With the new cup rings we’re going to win this year. We’ll marry again in the off season, and the Cup is going to be in the front row of the audience.”

Ilya sighed and threw himself upon Shane. They tangled themselves together on their couch, Shane still boiling with rage, Ilya still sniffling a little.

“Why am I still crying,” Ilya said. He reached blindly for the box of tissues on the coffee table. Shane had to draw a few tissues and press them into Ilya’s hand. Ilya blew his nose again.

“I don’t know why you bothered,” Shane said. He sounded irritated, but also unbearably fond.

“For optics, Hollander!” Ilya complained snottily, then blew his nose hard. He folded the tissue in half and used a dry corner to blot at his eyes. “You were at the strategy meeting too, don’t tell me you already forget.”

“You could have used some eye drops to fake it,” Shane said without sympathy. A smile had begun tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“And how would I have done that in the middle of the press conference, Hollander?” Ilya rolled his eyes, the effect of which was dampened by how swollen they were.

“Well stop touching your eyes then,” Shane said unsympathetically. He twisted open the half empty bottle of eye drops sitting on the coffee table and patted Ilya’s cheek. “C’mon, don’t be such a baby about it.”

Ilya sat up and closed his eyes. Shane wriggled himself out from under Ilya and got on his knees on the couch so that he’d have a better angle. He peeled back one of Ilya’s eyelids, but Ilya flinched and made a loud noise of complaint when he did, and the first drop landed on Ilya’s cheek.

“Oh my god, you big baby,” Shane said. “Fine. I’m doing the eyelid thing.”

“Nooooo,” Ilya whined. “I’m not a dog!”

“Too late,” Shane said, and squirted several generous drops of the solution on the inner corners of Ilya’s eyes, over the tear ducts. Ilya blinked his eyes open, and the eye drops flooded into his eyes, soothing the fiery burning. It was the exact trick they used to give Anya eye drops.

“Next time,” Ilya said, “I’m using a tear stick. That’s what actors use, no? I could ask Rose Landry for advice.”

“There’s going to be a next time?” Shane asked. His soft expression belied his combative tone as he pressed a lingering kiss to Ilya's lips. He kissed Ilya's cheeks too, lips meeting the damp trail of Ilya's tears with a reverence that did not befit the farce they found themselves in. Then. “Holy fuck Rozanov. Get your hands out of my shorts.”

“But I’m sad,” Ilya said. “I’m distraught. I’m a sad divorcee. A lonely single dog father in need of comforting.”

“Fine,” said Shane. “Go wash your hands again. I don’t want my dick to be burning.”

“That’s fair,” Ilya said wetly. He’d already washed his hands several times, but the cinnamon oil he’d dipped his fingertips in before the press conference had been much too potent, and he’d made himself tear up again just by rubbing at his eye thoughtlessly.

Ilya projected an air of utmost dejected misery as he got up and trundled to the nearest sink to wash his hands and scrub his nails. He’d taken a thirty minute shower and washed his hands like five times since the press conference, and somehow his hands were still covered in cinnamon oil. He scrubbed and he scrubbed, as thoroughly as he imagined surgeons must do. He studied his reflection as he lathered and scrubbed. He looked absolutely miserable. He didn’t quite feel it though. He didn’t feel good either, but it was not dejection churning through him. He was as furious as Shane. It was only that neither of them were allowing themselves to feel the rage properly.

The announcement of the rule change hadn’t been exactly unexpected, but neither of them had expected it to be so blatant. This wasn’t something they could work around, not really. But what were they going to do? The couldn’t stop playing hockey. That wasn’t how the sport worked. There were a number of people currently in heated talks with the NHL on Shane and Ilya’s behalf, and Scott Hunter had blasted messages of support all across his social media, as well as lambasting the NHL with a vehemence that only retirement could afford. Shane and Ilya were… not as far away from retiring as they would like to think they were, probably, but the were still playing a great game, making playoffs and winning cups, and they wouldn’t allow themselves to be driven out. So. A farce. A media circus had been unavoidable anyway, but Ilya had very deliberately suggested turning the whole ordeal into a farce. Because that was all this stupid, ridiculous, idiotic rule deserved.

He bared his teeth in the mirror. He hadn’t expected that he’d be in discussions to sue the league, especially not while he was still playing in it, but then again, there were a lot of things in his life that he’d never expected ahead of time.

He emerged from the bathroom with slightly less puffy eyes and a sly look of mischief.

“Shane,” he crooned, reattaching himself to Shane’s side and pressing a tender everyday kiss to the side of Shane’s neck, then behind the ear. “Shane, my love. Let’s throw a divorce party.”

Shane stilled in his arms. The pinched look of anger and stress that had dogged Shane for the last hour and a half finally subsided. Shane looked exasperated, then amused, then, begrudgingly, thoughtful. It was the thoughtful look that always came to the fore when Shane remembered that his public image was no longer pristine, and there was therefore no need to scrub out the texture of who he was to preserve it.

“Why not?” said Shane, with an undertone of viciousness that echoed what was roiling in Ilya’s chest. “We’ll exchange cup rings.”