Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

Gen, M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & The Ottawa Centaurs, Ilya Rozanov & The Ottawa Centaurs

Characters:

Original Referee Characters, Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Evan Dykstra, Gilbert Comeau

Additional Tags:

Hot Mic, POV: Hockey Referee, Fuck the Montreal Voyageurs, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Homophobic Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros (Game Changers), Homophobic Language, Hopefully Accurate Hockey, there weren't any "montreal gets caught being homophobic on a hot mic" fics that were accurate to how mic'ing works in the NHL so I wrote this, no beta we get whacked like Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-04 Words: 1,388 Chapters: 1/1

Rule 75.4 (iii)

Summary

MLH Referee Harvey Demarais is too damn old to be listening to gap-toothed meatheads throw slurs all over his ice. If the league won't hold players accountable...he will.

Notes

This is very short and very silly, but I saw a niche unfilled and wanted to put at least one afternoon's worth of effort into it. As a palate cleanser.

It was the game Harvey Demarais had been dreading ever since the 2018-2019 MLH season schedule had been released in July. October 15th, 2018. Montreal @ Ottawa. Usually, Harvey didn’t mind Ottawa home games. Sure the commute was shit and the stadium often much quieter than the likes of Toronto or Montreal, but the staff at Canadian Tire Center were always kind and the Centaurs were the kind of team that didn’t tend to make his job hard. Of course, if it would win them more games, Harvey wouldn’t mind some more physical play leading to a few more penalty minutes a night. 

Not that Harvey had any kind of stake in any MLH team’s success. But it was tough watching the Cens wash out early season after season. At least last year, the sheer star power of Ilya Rozanov had dragged them closer to a playoff berth than they’d been in the last five seasons. Harvey was well-familiar with Rozanov’s captaining style, and its in-your-face enthusiasm seemed to light a fire under the others. Watching their game step up in response put a smile on Harvey’s face. Competitive hockey was the best hockey.

And the Cens were certainly competitive, now. In their first five games, they’d won three. And the two they’d lost had been in overtime, so they still netted a point in the standings. It was early yet, and the rest of the league hadn’t quite figured out how to deal with the new, lethal top six center combo of Rozanov and Hollander. 

Who were husbands. If Scott Hunter’s Stanley Cup Kiss had rocked the professional hockey world, the reveal of Hollander and Rozanov’s romance had taken it to its knees. The subsequent rumors surrounding Hollander’s blunder in the playoffs and his sudden departure from Montreal hadn’t exactly…helped matters. The League was under tremendous pressure to address the bigotry and homophobia that had infected so much of hockey’s past and present. And, of course, Crowell was handling it with all the grace of a bull in a rainbow china shop. 

And if the rumors are true… lets just say, zebras talked. And the difference on Montreal’s bench before and after that fanmail video was…noticeable. All of which to say, when Harvey turned to his fellow referee for the night — a stand-up guy he always enjoyed working with named Hernando Rodriguez — and said, “We’re keeping an ear out, right?” Rodriguez hadn’t needed clarification. He just gave Harvey a curt nod and continued his warmups. League corporate wasn’t going to stand up for their queer players. But that didn’t mean the zebras underneath them would take any abuse lying down. 

As Harvey dropped the first puck of the night, he hoped a Metro might start shit early. That way, he could throw him in the box early and set the tone for the rest of the game. The prospect of facing multiple unsportsmanlikes — and the accompanying two minutes of Hollander and Rozanov on the ice together for the power play — would keep a lid on the blatant slurs. 

But the Metros were (unfortunately) smart. While Harvey and Hernando kept a closer watch than usual on the language being thrown around the rink, nothing any Metro had said thus far warranted even a minor penalty. With a number of other teams, Harvey would’ve started to relax and think maybe everyone would stay professional. But he knew Theriault. If anything, the old shit had considered his middle six’s mouthy tendencies and was waiting to deploy them once everyone got lost in the rhythm of the game.

Not on their ice. The first actionable slur splattered onto the ice late in the first period. Comeau had his former captain locked in a puck battle in Ottawa’s defensive zone. Harvey got as close as he could without risking a stray butt-end to the stomach. 

Just close enough he could hear Comeau lean in and whisper, “Bet you like getting pressed into walls, you cocksucking faggot.”

Hollander took control of the puck. Harvey raised his arm. Delayed penalty, which meant Montreal couldn’t touch the puck without the play blowing dead. Ottawa made a solid effort with the advantage they gained, but Boiziau got a blade on the puck and sent everyone to the power play.

Harvey skated to center ice, turned on his mic pack, and announced, “Montreal number 17, two minutes for unsportsmanlike conduct.” He punctuated his words with his hands held perpendicular in a t-shape. He watched the penalty box attendant sit Comeau down with a smirk. 

As Hollander skated to the face-off dot to take the draw from Rodriguez, he gave Harvey the tiniest nod while he passed. Harvey returned it. They had a lot more game left to play. Ottawa ended up converting on their power play, putting them up 0-1 going into first intermission.

Second intermission was business as usual. It seemed Harvey’s willingness to blow the whistle on discriminatory language had discouraged any of Comeau’s teammates from attempting his strategy. Penalties were of the usual variety: Ottawa for tripping, Montreal for a high stick. Neither scored on their power plays, and while Montreal was putting up a good fight against Ottawa’s defense, they couldn’t get past Hayes in net until a very lucky bounce tipped in over his pad late in the period. The went into second intermission all tied up.

It was in the third period when things got ugly. Unfortunately for Harvey, it happened behind the play where he was out of earshot. Fortunately for the Centaurs, whatever Comeau said pissed Dykstra off so much he dropped gloves. And, of course, Comeau took up the gauntlet. When was Montreal going to cut their losses and put this goon on waivers? 

It turned into one hell of a fight. Both defensemen traded hefty punches back and forth, off hands gripped onto the necks of each other’s sweaters. The other players all grabbed dance partners, and to Harvey’s relief it was Pike who glommed onto Rozanov. The captain looked like he was ready to jump in there but for the threat of a third man in call. Pike would keep him from doing something stupid. 

Dykstra lost his helmet, then Comeau a second later. Harvey was just starting to eye Rodriguez and the linesmen about breaking it up when Dykstra took Comeau to the ice. To everyone’s relief, the burly Centaur abided by the rules of engagement and backed off once his opponent lost his skates on top the stadium logo. 

The deliberation with his fellow referees was short, completed even before most players hit the benches. Concurrent fives for fighting. Boilerplate stuff.

Pike went to help his teammate up, but the idiot brushed him off and glared at Dykstra’s retreating backside. Only to have his line of sight quickly interrupted by all six foot three of pissed off Ilya Rozanov. And, of course, fucking Comeau couldn’t leave well enough alone. Despite Pike pulling him back a few strides towards the penalty box, his face screwed up and he raised a still-ungloved finger at Rozanov.

And Harvey realized, he had an opportunity, here. The involved parties were moving off center ice, but they were still close enough that—

Harvey turned his mic pack on and prayed he wouldn’t get in too much trouble over what he was about to broadcast. He only hoped the TV teams ran enough of a delay to mute out what they could before it hit the airwaves. But Comeau needed to be held accountable, and neither Crowell or Theriault were of any mind to make that happen without something forcing their hands. 

Harvey Demarais, 20 year veteran of the MLH referee circuit, skated to center ice and turned on his mic pack just in time to hear Gilbert Comeau spit, “You must let the whole team run a train on your faggot ass!”

He’d heard quiet stadiums. He’d heard loud stadiums. Almost never had Harvey heard a silent stadium. It was brief. Just for a moment. But there was a split second where not a single voice among nineteen thousand made a noise. 

With great pleasure, Harvey Demarais took ahold of that silence and announced, “Montreal number 17, Ottawa number 25, five minutes each for fighting. Montreal number 17 will be assessed for a ten minute misconduct. We heard that.”