Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Svetlana Vetrova, Zane Boodram, Hayden Pike, Troy Barrett

Additional Tags:

Post-Canon, After The Long Game, Fluff, Shane & Ilya forever, Anxious Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander Needs a Hug, Ilya Rozanov Needs A Hug, Social Media, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-15 Completed: 2026-04-17 Words: 6,709 Chapters: 3/3

you should be dancing

Summary

Ilya didn’t want him to go. He wanted to go out with Svetlana, who was glamorous and fun, and could dance all night in four-inch heels. Not Shane, who felt about dance floors the way squirrels probably felt about four-lane highways.

Shane decides it's time to learn to dance.

Notes

Chapter 1: crisis/shane

1.

“Who’s dancing? Roz?”

The club was, like all clubs, awful. At least as far as Shane was concerned.

The booth was okay, because it was slightly quieter here and they were tucked away in a corner, a little out of sight from the dance floor. But the table was still slightly sticky, no matter how many times Shane swiped at it with a napkin dampened with water, and a group of women who could not possibly be old enough to be inside legally had walked past the table at least six times, pointing and giggling with every fly-by.

Ilya stood, and Shane did his best not to let his disappointment show. Ilya loved dancing, and he didn’t need to stay glued to Shane’s side.

“Hollander, what do you say?” Cliff Marleau boomed. “Is tonight the night?”

Something must have shown on his face because Marleau threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t worry, just fucking with you.”

Shane lifted his vodka ginger ale in a little salute as the group disappeared around the corner toward the dance floor, and its thunderous music, and its flashing lights. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply through his nose, and repeated his mantra for the night: Ilya misses his Boston friends; going out is fun; clubs are places people go to have fun.

The only people left in the booth were Shane, St-Simon, who was furiously texting someone under the table and had been all night, and a younger Boston player whose name he couldn’t remember, who currently had his tongue down the throat of some woman he’d dragged back from the dance floor about five minutes ago.

Shane stared into his glass. Why couldn’t he just fucking dance? Ilya didn’t mind that he was bad at it. It was just that Ilya was so good at it. Shane would end up watching him, and everyone would notice and think he was a total weirdo. Or worse, they would notice and wonder why isn’t llya Rozanov with someone cooler, like one of these hundreds of people who can dance?

For fuck’s sake, Shane was an elite professional athlete. Almost every day, he made his body do a thousand things most people would never even attempt. Dancing was just…swaying, right? Maybe doing something with your arms? All these people seem to have figured it out.

Ilya came back alone only a few minutes later.

“You didn’t want to dance more?” Shane asked.

Ilya shook his head, then chugged the rest of Shane’s drink.

“Are you sure?” Shane prodded.

“They all want to touch me and grind on me and I just want to go home with my husband and grind on him.”

Ilya wasn’t drunk—truly drunk Ilya required a heroic amount of vodka intake—but he was a little loopy. This level of tipsiness, Shane knew from experience, made Ilya extremely horny. He was already nuzzling deep into Shane’s neck, licking and nipping and—sucking, pretty hard.

“Ow,” Shane said, laughing. “You’re going to give me a hickey.”

Ilya ran his tongue over the tender spot. “You like it.”

Shane did like it. Shane ordered a car and hustled Ilya out the door.

The nuzzling continued in the car, but Shane was distracted. It was barely midnight; when Ilya went out with the Centaurs after games he was almost never home before two.

“Why didn’t you want to stay longer?” Shane asked.

“There are three reasons people stay until late at clubs,” Ilya said as his hand wrapped around Shane’s thigh and began moving north. “Because the want to get drunk, they’re looking for someone to fuck, or they’re dancing. I don’t want to get drunk tonight, and I already have someone to fuck,” he purred the last against the spot where Shane’s neck met his jaw, then grabbed Shane’s earlobe between his teeth.

Shane was beginning to forget why he’d been worried.

Wait—”But you love to dance.”

“I love you more,” Ilya murmured, and it was sweet but also not quite right—but now Ilya was massaging Shane through his jeans and ah—

2.

Chouinard’s wedding reception was heading into its fourth hour. Shane was at the bar, having just choked down a shot of tequila after losing a bet to Wyatt Hayes. He looked toward the dance floor while he waited for a cleansing glass of ginger ale, and found Ilya easily, his golden curls bouncing a few inches above everyone else’s head. He was watching intently as Wiebe’s twelve year-old niece showed Ilya a little dance move, who then effortlessly recreated it. The girl handed her phone to Bood, who filmed as the pair executed the dance together.

It really did look like fun. Everyone on the dance floor was grinning ear-to-ear, even the ones who were terrible dancers, to Shane’s eye. Maybe he could just…lurk a little. On the edge. 

He took a fortifying sip of ginger ale and headed over slowly. The song changed, and the crowd on the dance floor let out a collective whoop of excitement, even though the music didn’t really sound different to Shane. When he was only a few steps away, Ilya spotted him, and his eyes lit up. He reached a long arm through the crowd and dragged Shane closer.

“I saw you at the bar. Are you drunk enough to dance with me now?”

Shane blushed. “Just wanted to say hi.”

Ilya’s face fell a little, and he tried to hide it behind a roll of his eyes.

Shane had to stop being such a…such a fucking pussy about this. “I guess I could….” he trailed off, looking around. Bood and Wiebe’s wife were side by side, doing some vaguely recognizable dance craze from a few years ago. Chouinard and Selena were grinding in the center of the floor, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his torso and her carefully executed updo crumbling to the left. Everyone else was just…dancing.

How did they do that?

He gritted his teeth and took another step toward Ilya, deeper into the maelstrom. He thrust his hand out before he could think too hard about it, finding Ilya’s hip and pulling him closer, until Ilya turned and rested his own hands on Shane’s waist.

“Hello, lyubimyy moy,” Ilya said.

“Hi,” Shane said. Ilya swayed them gently together, side to side, and Shane tried to concentrate on the sequence, desperate to find the logic of it.

“You are thinking too hard, kotik,” Ilya said. “It’s just dancing.”

Shane looked up. Ilya’s expression was affectionate, but a little exasperated. No, not exasperated, more like…the way Hayden looked when Amber insisted on tying her own shoes before they left the house. Encouraging, but beleaguered.

Shane felt his cheeks growing hot, and wished for the millionth time that the one thing he was truly awful at could have been something that Ilya hated, like Pictionary.

“I need some water,” Ilya half-shouted over the music. “Come sit with me.”

Ilya took his hand and pulled him from the dance floor, and Shane was torn between grateful and feeling babied. He did not generally like being accommodated; accommodation always felt to Shane like failure.

“We don’t have to—”

“I know,” Ilya said simply.

3.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to come?” Shane asked. Ilya was buttoning up his shirt, if it could be called that. It was sky blue and mostly sheer, and Ilya didn’t ultimately bother with any buttons higher than his bottom rib. The silk draped across his broad shoulders, decadent and inviting, and Shane sort of hated the thought of anyone else seeing Ilya in this Dionysian splendor.

But they were in New York, and Svetlana happened to be in town, too, and Shane couldn’t exactly tell Ilya not to go out with his best friend. Shane was invited, technically, but the hot new club they were going to sounded like Shane’s personal circle of hell. Black light only, cave-themed, some famous DJ.

Ilya flicked at the curls on his forehead until they fell just so, toward one eyebrow. “You will hate it.”

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go if it would make you happy,” Shane said from his perch on the hotel bed.

“It will make me happy to think about you watching something boring on TV and waiting for me to come home and fuck you.”

It didn’t seem like Ilya was bothered, but Ilya was also good at seeming unbothered, even when he really was. This could be like the time Ilya had “joked” for weeks about going to Cirque de’Soleil and Shane had brushed him off every time until he realized Ilya had actually wanted to go, and by then it was too late to get tickets.

“But I could try—”

“No.”

Wait—oh.

“I mean,” Ilya said, his tone softer. “You will have a nice time here, I will have a nice time there. It’s fine, really.”

Shane nodded, and grabbed the remote to distract himself. 

Ilya didn’t want him to go. He wanted to go out with Svetlana, who was glamorous and fun, and could dance all night in four-inch heels. Not Shane, who felt about dance floors the way squirrels probably felt about four-lane highways.

And maybe that was fine, right? Couples didn’t have to do everything together, especially if they worked together. Ilya didn’t do yoga with Shane, and he rolled his eyes and put his headphones in whenever Shane was doing sudoku on the plane (“even your puzzles are boring”).

“Well?” Ilya said, turning around and presenting himself for Shane’s approval.

“You look hot,” Shane said, hoping he sounded normal. “Don’t let any deranged fans grope you.”

Last year, when Shane had been home sick with the flu, Ilya had gone out in Ottawa and someone had snapped a photo just as some weirdo snuck up behind him and grabbed his ass. The picture had gone onto social media  and ended up on a hockey blog with the headline First husbands of hockey: trouble in paradise?

“Sveta will take care of them, don’t worry. She wants to have dinner when we are in Boston next month.”

“Yeah, of course,” Shane said. He found a sea turtle documentary that looked interesting, but clicked past it to ESPN. He could find it again after Ilya left.

Ilya leaned down and kissed him. His lips were soft, and he lingered long enough that it felt like an apology. “Don’t go too wild. Remember, mini-bar is expensive.”

Shane snorted. “Fuck that, Now I’m getting drunk on $100 worth of nips.”

“I dare you,” Ilya shouted back, just before the door closed behind him.

Shane let out a long, shuddering breath.

He wasn’t jealous of Svetlana, at least not the way he used to be, when just the mention of her name would settle under his ribs like a hot coal. But maybe he was jealous in a new, worse way—she was just like Ilya, bold and sexy and fearless, but Ilya was stuck with Shane, who was so boring he couldn’t even dance.

He blinked, and felt a few tears slide down his cheek.

Ilya didn’t do the fucking sudoku puzzles because he didn’t like them, not because he was incapable. This was entirely Shane’s fault. Shane had spent most of the past decade and a half pushing his body to, and often past, its limits, and yet hadn’t managed to learn how to exist on a dance floor without feeling like he was going to die of embarrassment.

Shane broke the scoring record on his juniors team in his first year, then he broke his own record every year after that. He was the youngest player to ever become captain of the Metros. He could bench press 315lb, and hold a scorpion pose for nearly a minute, even though his yoga teacher was always telling him it’s not a competition and you should focus on your breath.

He swiped the moisture away.

He was Shane fucking Hollander, and if he didn’t know how to dance, it was only because he had never really tried.

Chapter 2: crisis/ilya

Chapter Notes

love to see people are enjoying this! though based on the comments chapter 1 was maybe sadder than I intended? note to self: maybe choose less melodramatic chapter names. anyway don't worry, our boys are going to be okay!

1.

Shane was being weird.

Different weird than usual.

He had made three trips to Montreal for meetings in the past month. During the third outing, Ilya broke down and texted Yuna to ask casually (he hoped) if she knew when Shane’s sponsor meeting was over.

She hadn’t known about a meeting.

That wasn’t out of the question. Shane handled a lot more of his own business these days. It could be a new partner; Yuna was mostly just managing Rolex and Speedo now.

A part of Ilya had always worried that Shane would want to branch out one day, since he had only ever been with Ilya and two other one-time hookups. Ilya had even offered to open their relationship, before they were married, but Shane had just said what the fuck, Ilya? then not spoken to him for three days. 

After that he hadn’t worried about….this kind of thing.

Cheating.

Ilya called Sveta in a bit of a panic. 

“I think Shane is having an affair,” he blurted out in Russian, before she even managed to greet him.

She answered by laughing. “That’s ridiculous. He is obsessed with you. And he is…Shane.”

Ilya told her about the mystery meetings, the extra hours in their basement gym. Shane with his headphones in, always fussing with his phone.

“Are you still fucking regularly?” she asked.

“All the time.”

“And it is the same as usual?”

“Yes.”

“I think it is something else. You’re right that he is keeping a secret, but it’s not another man.”

“I would die, I think,” Ilya said quietly. He genuinely didn’t know if he could stand it, living in a world where Shane was happy with someone else.

“I know, sweetheart. You should ask him. Why are you boys still so bad at talking to each other?”

Sveta made him promise to do it before their plans to have dinner all together the week after.

“I don’t want to suffer through two hours of your Russian drama.”

“Shane isn’t Russian.”

“You have enough Russian drama for both of you.”

2.

Ilya made a list of all the potential non-cheating explanations he could think of for Shane sneaking around.

• Secret injury/illness

• Planning surprise party for my birthday

• Wants to go to a different team

Number three was the least likely, not just because they were playing together but because Shane had won his fourth Cup with Ottawa just the year before, and Shane loved winning. Ilya was also pretty sure he loved the Centaurs, who were so different from Montreal, and possibly the first place on earth where Shane had never had to hide from anyone.

Number two wasn’t out of the question, but the timing of Ilya’s birthday made planning awkward. It was right at the beginning of the off-season, probably, but also possibly at the very end of the playoffs, depending on how long it all dragged out. Shane would hate to plan a big event with so much uncertainty.

So, number one. Shane didn’t often get sick, but when he did he went into hiding, like a cat, and hissed at anyone that tried to help him. When he had a stomach bug a couple years ago, he spent an entire day curled in a ball on the floor of the powder room in the basement, claiming it was so Ilya didn’t catch it.

Something could be very wrong. He could be visiting doctors, getting scans and blood tests, preparing a binder to present to Ilya when he finally divulged his diagnosis. He could be making arrangements for his own funeral, so Ilya wouldn’t have to worry.

Russian drama. Yes, probably. But not out of the question.

“Are you feeling okay?” Ilya asked one day, no longer able to contain himself.

Shane’s spine straightened completely. “Why? Did I look off at practice?”

“No, I was just wondering—”

“I knew I shouldn’t have had your leftover french fries.”

“Shane, stop.” Ilya put his hands on Shane’s shoulders. “I am not talking about the stupid french fries. Do you need to call Dr Jason?”

After a particular bad month or so right after he left Montreal, Ilya had convinced Shane to talk to someone about his eating. They didn’t call it anything, and Dr Jason didn’t issue any formal diagnoses, but he helped to lessen Shane’s food anxiety, especially when he was stressed out.

“No, really. I am okay.”

“You just seem tense. And you have been on your phone a lot.”

“I’m fine, really,” he said, but his eyes flickered to the ground. “Just Rose texting, she hates her new movie.”

“You are sure?”

Shane put his hands on Ilya’s chest. “I am sure.” He lifted up on his toes and kissed him, then headed down to the gym.

Looking at his phone.

3.

“Remember we are having dinner with Sveta,” Ilya said as they dumped their bags on the floor of their hotel room.

“Just dinner?” Shane asked. “You guys aren’t going after?”

“No, Sveta just wants to see you. She picked a Japanese place, very fresh and healthy.”

“Oh, okay,” Shane said. But he looked disappointed for some reason.

“I told you, you do not need to be jealous of her,” Ilya said.

“I mean, I guess,” Shane said, a little snappish.

“It has not been like that with us for ages. I am not still mad about Rose.”

“I’m pretty sure you are. And she and I dated for like, twelve seconds. You and Svetlana were fucking for like ten years.”

“On and off.”

“Ilya.”

He wrapped his arms around Shane from behind and kissed his temple. “You don’t worry, really, do you? I would never do that to you.” 

Would you do that to me?

He felt Shane relax, just a little bit. “No. I know.” He swiveled so they were facing each other again. “So you’re really not going out after?” he asked again. “Because you can if you want.”

This was the last thing Ilya expected. The last time he and Sveta had gone dancing, Shane had been even more irritated about it than usual. He had tried to play it off, but Ilya had seen him sitting ramrod straight on the bed, pretending he wasn’t going to watch the sea turtle documentary and stew all night about Ilya being out. 

Unless…he wanted Ilya to go out?

Because he had something else to do?

“Did you have other plans tonight, or something?” Ilya asked, trying to remain calm.

“No, nothing like that. I just know that you like it.”

Ilya felt anger flare in his chest. He had tried to let Shane have his secrets, but this was too much. “You are trying to get rid of me?” he said. He could feel his accent thickening in his mouth, like it always did when he was upset.

“No!”

“Because if you were going to go see whoever you’ve been texting all month after dinner, you’ll have to disappoint him.”

“Him? Ilya what are you talking about?”

“I know you’re hiding something from me!” he said, too loud. “Just tell me the truth.”

Shane fidgeted, and looked away, and Ilya’s heart broke a little. What had Ilya done? He must have failed Shane in some way, Shane who was loyal to a fault, so loyal he hung on in the cesspool that was the Montreal Metros locker room for all those years. They had fought so hard for so long, and somehow Ilya had fucked it up.

“Is it another man?” he asked, his voice cracking.

This was it. He was going to die. It would go up on the big screen before the game: Ilya Rozanov, 1991-2025, heart crushed to death by boring Canadian. They would have a minute of silence, and then Shane would score a hat trick and go home to another man.

Shane ran his hands through his hair, and his shoulders sagged. Ilya braced himself for the collapse.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I had this idea that—it doesn’t matter.”

“You wanted what to be a surprise?” Ilya said, still feeling like a soul in purgatory.

“You cannot make fun of me.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“I’m serious. If you make fun of me I swear I will go out and find another man to fuck literally right now.”

Ilya couldn’t stop himself from chuckling a little. “Okay, Shane! I won’t laugh! Even though it seems like it must be very embarrassing.”

“I’ve been….takingdancelessons.”

“What? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Taking. Dance. Lessons. One of Rose’s friends is teaching me how to dance.”

Ilya was paralyzed. He felt the laughter bubbling up, not because he was amused or mocking but because he was wildly, frantically relieved. It burst out of his mouth, loud and obnoxious and Shane’s face contorted into anger and oh my God it's going to be okay.

“You asshole! You promised!” Shane shouted.

Ilya’s eyes were tearing up. He couldn’t breathe. “No—Shane—” he gasped. “I am not—it’s not you. I am—I am happy.”

Shane paused, regarding Ilya with skepticism and, eventually, as he continued to hiccup and gasp for breath, a little bit of concern. By the time it was over, Ilya had collapsed onto the floor in front of the hotel bed, and Shane slid down to meet him there.

Ilya plopped a hand on Shane’s leg and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I thought you were dying. Or cheating on me. I had not decided which one would have been worse.”

Shane scoffed. “You idiot. I would never.”

“Die? Or cheat?”

“Well, both. We both know you’re going to die first, because you smoke and eat McDonald’s, and I will have to organize a big memorial service.”

“I bet you are looking forward to it. Is there a binder yet?”

“No comment.”

“Ilya,” Shane said after a minute. “You know you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, right?’”

“You will have to keep reminding me.” Ilya scooted in, and pressed himself as close to Shane’s side as he could get. He was giddy. He let his head collapse awkwardly onto Shane’s shoulder. Finally, post-panic, post maniacal relief, Shane’s confession filtered through the haze. “Wait, you really took dance lessons? From who?”

“Remember Rose was in the movie with that guy from the dancing show? J-Ball?”

Ilya tried to remember, but all of Rose’s movies seemed the same to him, except the one that was secretly his favorite, which was a period drama in which she wore enormous dresses and married a crabby older man who turned out to be very nice and sexy.

“He’s been in Montreal filming a thing. He’s been really helpful.”

“How helpful?” Ilya said, feeling an echo of his earlier jealousy.

“A regular amount of helpful, Ilya. You don’t need to worry, he is very straight.”

“You could convert a straight man. You are very pretty.”

Shane nudged him, but he also laughed a little. Ilya felt the same way he did after winning a game in overtime: wrung out, but also ready to conquer the world.

Shane’s hatred of dancing had been no surprise to Ilya. He had once thought, or at least hoped, that it would fade a little as Shane stopped keeping so much of himself hidden away, but it proved to be stubborn. Ilya hated to see him trying so hard, always stressed and anxious when they were supposed to be having fun, so he had eventually given up.

That must have been what set Shane off. Shane never gave up. His tenacity was the only reason they were here now, propped up against one another on a hotel room floor.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel bad about the dancing. I understood, it was okay. You know that, right?”

Shane sighed. “I know. I just got tired of you dancing without me.”

Ilya thought about all those years it felt like he was watching Shane from behind a thick wall of soundproof glass. He would get his little taste at their hasty, sharp-edged trysts and then Shane would go back and be easy and sweet with Hayden, and his parents, and Rose. Ilya had hated feeling like an exception to Shane’s regular life.

“I understand,” he said softly. Shane was riffling his fingers through Ilya’s hair now, which Ilya loved more than anything in the world. Maybe even more than sex.

“Do you want to go tonight? After dinner?” Ilya asked gently. 

“Not really. We do have a game tomorrow. I just wanted to show you.”

“You could show me now,” Ilya suggested.

Shane frowned. “That sounds terrifying, actually. But I think I have to.”

“There will be other chances.”

“Well, yeah. But I want you to see it first, and time is running out.”

“Shane, why do you sound like a bad action movie? How can time be running out on dancing?”

“J-Ball wouldn’t take any money from me. He just wants more followers.”

Ilya shook his head. “I don’t understand. I am too exhausted from emotional rollercoaster.”

Shane smiled, one of his adorable, sneaky little smiles. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Chapter 3: denoument/ensemble

Chapter Notes

I thought it would be fun to make this look pretty, like actual social media, then came face to face with a wall of HTML hieroglyphics and changed my mind. one day!

Video posted by jballcutsarug, March 8, 2025.

[Two men are standing in an empty dance studio; a third is seated with a set of bongo drums.]

“No, no, don’t get distracted. Stay with the beat—listen.”

[Bongo drum gets louder]

Cut to front-facing video of J-Ball.

“So, you all know I strongly believe that everyone can dance. Then the world sent me Shane Hollander. JK, JK, no hate! Y’all know my good friend Rose Landry? She and Shane dated for a minute back in the day. For those of you that aren’t into sports, Shane was famous first for being, like, one of the best hockey players ever. Then he was also famous for marrying his all-time rival, this bad ass Russian dude and also one of the best hockey players ever named Ilya Rozanov. Turns out that Ilya loves to dance, and Shane is tired of sitting on the sidelines. Get it, sidelines? I don’t know if they even have those in hockey but whatever. It’s cool. So anyway, that’s Shane [cut to screen shot of Shane looking terrified and confused] and my friend Cuban percussion legend Carlos Garcia [cut to concert footage of an older man playing a huge array of drums]. No cap, Shane was a hard case. We were starting from scratch. But the music does not lie. EVERYONE CAN DANCE!”

[Cut back to Shane and J-Ball in the studio. J-Ball starts speaking.] 

“So what are we talking here, as a baseline? You got a decent white guy shuffle? Actually sorry, I shouldn’t assume. Brotherhood of ambiguous ethnicities, right? I mean, can you do the—” 

[J Ball steps side to side, holding his arms close to his ribs. Shane mirrors his movements.]

“Okay okay, could be worse!”

[Shane stops and rubs the back of his neck with one hand.] “It’s not really, like, the steps. I think it's the music? Like the steps with the music.”

[J Ball nods]. “Okay, okay, I see you. Let me see something.”

[J Ball walks off camera; music comes on.]

“If I say, can you find the beat, do you know what I’m talking about?”

[Shane listens for a moment, then shakes his head. J-Ball starts clapping on the beat]

“Like this? Hear it now?”

[Shane shakes his head.] “I just hear, like…music.”

[J-Ball puts his hands on his hips.] “Cool, cool. Carlos, can you help us out? Give us something steady, not too fast.”

[Carlos plays a simple, steady beat on one drum.]

“Do what I’m doing—pat your thigh along with the pace.”

[Both men tap with the beat.]

“That’s it—that’s the beat. Now Carlos is going to do some other stuff but you just stick with it, ok?”

[Carlos adds other beats, in layers. Shane and J-Ball continue patting.]

“Yes! You got it. That’s the beat, right? It’s not going to change during the song. If you can find it and keep it, that’s half the battle. Now, homework.”

[Cut to front facing video of J-Ball]

“I’ve set Shane up with a great little app for dancers called MetroGnome. It will track and index beats and measures, and you can add choreo notes. But it will ALSO layer a metronome click on the beat of whatever song you’ve got playing on your phone. Very handy for the rhythm-challenged, link in the comments! Next time: we get moving!”

Comments:

MontrealGrl12: oh my god this is the cutest

MetrosGuy24: Shane Hollander being a bad dancer is the single most validating thing I’ve ever learned

DanceMonkey: Go Shane go!

stickhandler14: this is so gay

DanceMonkey: i would bet all my money that you are a terrible dancer

MontrealGrl12: this guy definitely just creeps up behind you at the club and stands there

MetrosGuy24: shit i knew i was doing something wrong

Video posted by jballcutsarug, March 10 2025.

[Shane and J-Ball are in an empty studio; music is playing over the speakers. Shane is stepping back and forth in front of the mirror, counting out loud. J-Ball is standing back and giving instruction.]

“Okay okay! I see progress. I can tell you did your homework, you’ve got the beat down.”

[Shane nods, still staring at his reflection]

“But you’ve got to relax a little. You look like a serial killer. Shoulders down. Don’t hold your breath. No fists.”

[Shane’s hands relax, but only slightly]

“Better, sort of.”

“I’m concentrating.”

“Concentrate less?”

“I don’t….I don’t know how to do that.”

“Think about something else. Skating, maybe? Or, hey, think about your man! Ilya, right? Does he help you relax?”

[Shane’s face turns bright red; J-Ball bursts out laughing]

Comments:

dejavu8189: omg he is trying so hard

lilyofthevalley45: look at him blush that man is getting put through the mattress

gladysknights: i don’t understand how someone who is so graceful on the ice can be this awkward on land

britneysbitch: too much time with locker room jocks. This is the only explanation. They have infected him.

Video posted by jballcutsarug, March 12 2025.

[Shane and J Ball are in an empty studio; music is playing over the speakers. J-Ball is demonstrating a grapevine step. Shane repeats.]

“No, see, you’ve got to let your hip move at its own pace. Smooooth it out. It follows the foot, right? One motion, like a wave.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

[Cut to Shane, seated on a stool against a white backdrop, looking annoyed.]

[J Ball speaks off camera] “How do you think it’s going?”

“Terribly.”

“What are you finding the most difficult?”

“All of it? You keep saying things that don’t make sense. Your hip cannot follow your foot, your hip is the one moving it in the first place!”

[A pause. J-Ball answers, still off camera]

“Okay. That’s fair. Let’s try it with your foot following your hip then? I don’t really care about the order, it's more the connection that matters. The wave.”

“What do you mean you don’t care about the order?”

[Cut back to the studio, Shane is moving slightly more naturally, J-Ball is jumping up and down.]

“Yes! YES! That’s it bro! PROGRESS!”

“I don’t know what to do with my hands,” Shane whines.

[J-Ball shrugs] “Then just make sure you’re holding a beer or something.”

Comments:

MetrosGuy24: seriously what do I do with my hands though

johndoe1253: yeah help a straight white guy out

Video posted by jballcutsarug, March 14 2025

[Shane and J-Ball in the studio. Shane is visibly frustrated.]

“But how do I know what to do? Like what moves?”

“You don’t know know, you know? You just take a second, and you listen to the music, and let it flow.”

[Shane’s expression flattens.] “Let it flow.”

“Yeah, bro. You can’t, like, fight it.”

“So people just…make it up as they go along?”

“Like, when they’re dancing at the club? Yeah.”

[Shane falls silent; his brow is furrowed.]

[Cut to front-facing video of J-Ball]

“Okay ladies and lovers, here is the deal. I’m going to get deep with you. Shane is struggling. You see him. You see that scrunched face. But we are all Shane! Who is going to tell me you’ve never freaked out that everyone is looking at you and thinking you’re a loser, when you’re actually just, like, riding the escalator at the mall? Dancing is scary for a lot of people. A lot of people just want to seem cool, and dancing is not cool. Sorry, it’s not! Dancing is crazy. You’ve got to let yourself go, flail around, make some shit up on the fly. People hate that. But it’s in there. Dancing is in our bones y’all, you’ve just got to get past the fear!”

Comments

DanceMonkey: it’s ok Shane, this is how I feel about sports.

britneysbitch: yyyesssss like how do the players know where to go?

dejavu8189: exactly. belated apologies to my youth basketball coaches, I still do not know what a pick and roll is

Video posted by jballcutsarug, March 18 2025

[Front-facing video of J-Ball] Okay so my dancing friends know that muscle memory is the thing. You’ve got to PRACTICE. You’ve got to practice until you’re dancing your way down the subway stairs and you don’t even realize. You’ve got to practice until you catch yourself shaking your booty while you wait in line at Target. Practice is non-negotiable. And people, Shane is PRACTICING. The man is a machine. Check this out.”

[Cut to Shane in a large home gym. The lights are dim, music is playing. He begins with a simple side step. He loses the beat, stops and curses, then starts again. He mutters something that can't be heard, subtitles appear that say “let it flow, let it flow.”

He closes his eyes and begins a grapevine step. He stops and does a small body roll, then spins once. He opens his eyes and grins at the mirror.]

[A man yells from another room]

“Shane! Are you down there again?” 

[Shane scrambles toward the camera and grabs the phone.] “Just stretching!”

Comments:

MontrealGrl12: he’s gotten so much better!

britneysbitch: wait no this was a mistake. @shanehollanderhockey already gets to look like that, and be a crazy talented athlete, and have a super hot husband, and now he can dance too? @jballcutsarug were there not needier cases out there

jballcutsarug: maybe but @shanehollanderhockey has like a million followers. Business is business 🤷

realilyarozanov: trust me he was very needy case

realilyarozanov: he loves me very much and we could not dance together!

MetrosGuy24: holy shit its Roz

dejavu8189: is this the husband?????

shanehollanderhockey: Ilya what are you doing here

dejavu8189: AHHHH AND SHANE

realilyarozanov: I am defending you! They said you didn’t need dance lessons!

britneysbitch: i mean i didn’t say he didn’t need them. We all saw the early videos.

realilyarozanov: exactly! 

realilyarozanov: he was so stiff on dance floor, like he forgot he has hips

reailyarozanov: when his hips are actually very talented

britneysbitch: 👀👀👀👀

dejavu8189: HEY YOOOOO

MontrealGrl12: 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

MetrosGuy24: tmi roz

shanehollanderhockey: ILYA

lilyofthevalley45: omg i’m dying

realilyarozanov: i meant from HOCKEY

realilyarozanov: you perverts

realilyarozanov: but also that too

Video posted by jballcutsarug, April 6, 2025

[J-Ball and Shane Hollander and standing side by side in a dance studio. Shane looks nervous, J-Ball is grinning.]

“You ready?”

“No.”

[Someone yells from off-camera] “Yes he is!”

[J-Ball pats Shane’s shoulder] “You’ll be fine.”

[Music starts, J-Ball counts eight beats, and he and Shane start a choreographed routine that lasts for one verse and chorus. When they finish, Shane smiles, and the two men hug.]

[A large man with curly hair rushes into the frame and grabs Shane in a bear hug.]

[J-Ball laughs] “What do you think Ilya, did we do good?” 

[Ilya and Shane begin to kiss]

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

[Cut to front-facing video of J-Ball] There it is, folks. What did I say? EVERYONE CAN DANCE! Now, my boys here are headed to the PLAYOFFS, AGAIN! So wish them good luck in the comments. I’ll be at game one against Montreal next week!”

Comments:

DanceMonkey: this is so inspiring

MetrosGuy12: are we sure @shanehollanderhockey isn’t just good at everything?

realilyarozanov: he is a very talented man

shanehollanderhockey: I am terrible at charades

realilyarozanov: this is only half true, he is terrible at acting things out but very good at guessing

dejavu8189: omg i want to watch them play charades so bad

HaydenPike35: no you don’t, it always ends with them screaming at each other or making out

shanehollanderhockey: sometimes both tbh

realilyarozanov: I do not like to agree with @HaydenPike35, Montreal’s fourteenth best player, but this is true

HaydenPike35: i thought it was fifteenth? did I get promoted

shanehollanderhockey: hayden its because I left the team

MetrosGuy12: omg is shane funny, too? unfair

Video posted by BBQwithBood, June 18, 2025

[Shaky video taken inside a club. The camera settles on a group on the dance floor, including several members of the Ottawa Centaurs. Shane Hollander is grinding on Ilya Rozanov at the center of the group. Ilya’s arms are wrapped around Shane’s chest, with one hand slipped inside the placket of Shane’s shirt, and he is leaning in and speaking close to Shane’s ear. Shane reaches one arm up and behind him, settling a hand on the back of Ilya’s neck. The surrounding Centaurs begin to back away.]

Comments:

BBQwithBood: @jballcutsarug this is your fault

jballcutsarug: YOOOOOO

jballcutsarug: i better end up in the dance teacher hall of fame

jballcutsarug: my boy @shanehollanderhockey is GETTING TF DOWN

dejavu8189: brb taking a cold shower

britneysbitch: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

MetrosGuy24: is it possible that I am gay now

troybarrettofficial: yes. I am also gay because of Shane Hollander

shanehollanderhockey: you are not

TroyBarretofficial: i mean there was an awakening and your Sports Illustrated cover from 2016 was there

justagirl78: do i need to be watching hockey games?

HaydenPike35: jesus christ they were bad enough before

realilyarozanov: i am sorry that our love makes you uncomfortable

HaydenPike35:  it does not! 

realilyarozanov: but your mediocre hockey playing makes me uncomfortable, so we will call it even

HaydenPike35: 😡

shanehollanderhockey: @BBQwithBood did you really have to post this

BBQwithBood: yes

BBQwithBood: the world will suffer with us

dejavu8189: speak for yourself

justagirl78: no suffering here

gladysknights: i am enjoying myself a great deal

britneysbitch: I am only suffering from jealousy

realilyarozanov: @shanehollanderhockey when are we going dancing again

britneysbitch: yeah shane WHEN EXACTLY AND WHERE EXACTLY

britneysbitch: asking for a friend

realilyarozanov: he is taken

britneysbitch: clearly

OttawaCentaurs @realilyarozanov please no terrorizing new fans

OttawaCentaurs: The Centaurs love to see our guys celebrating their second consecutive Cup

OttawaCentaurs: We’re very proud of @shanehollanderhockey! We agree with @jballcutsarug that everyone can dance. Join us for a game next season!

BBQwithBood: uh oh I think Harris is mad at us again

realilyarozanov: Troy will you distract him please

Troy Barret: ON IT 😘

justagirl78: ok so i guess yes, I do need to start watching hockey?

realilyarozanov: @OttawaCentaurs look harris! we are doing so good!

Video posted by jballcutsarug, September 22, 2025

[Shane and J-Ball are on the ice. J-Ball is gripping the boards and inching forward in an awkward shuffle.]

“You won’t learn to skate if you don’t let go.”

“Bro, did you not see me fall down a minute ago? That shit hurt!”

[Shane laughs] “I know, but you’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t have to get used to it if I just stay here.”

[Cut to the two men at center ice; J-Ball is holding Shane’s hands and skating forward.] “There you go, good. Keep your hips turned out, try to push off the edge. See, like that, that’s how you glide.”

[Cut to Shane leaning on the boards, J-Ball skates by slowly with his arms outstretched.] “Okay this could be fun, maybe.”

[He skates out of frame, a second later there is a crashing sound followed by a groan. Shane follows off screen.]

“Let’s work on stopping now.”

Comments:

shanehollanderhockey: 😈

Chapter End Notes

Not going to lie: I ended up writing a lot more J-Ball than I expected. I actually cut some out. he might need to come back in another story.

MetroGnome does not exist. someone get on that!