Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Gilbert Comeau, and other asshole hockey players

Additional Tags:

Homophobic Language, Shane Claps Back, Shane Hollander Chirps, Supportive Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers), 5+1 Things, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Is a Menace, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Being Assholes (Game Changers), Protective Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander Can Fight, Shane Hollander is a Little Shit

Language:

English

Series:

Part 6 of love-a-nov (hollanov one-shots)

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-02 Words: 4,188 Chapters: 1/1

chirp, chirp, swing

Summary

It starts as an accident.

Shane’s focused, eyes locked on the ice. He isn’t thinking about anything else, let alone his response when an inevitable chirp comes. He doesn’t understand he's done anything different until later in the locker room. Ilya can’t stop talking about some chirp and Shane is only half listening until he hears his name.

“What?” He looks up with a frown. “I didn’t chirp anyone.”

“Shane, lyubimii, love of my life.” Ilya steps forward to press a smacking kiss to Shane’s forehead. “You error-screened Benoit!”

So it starts by accident, but it doesn’t take Shane very long to lean into it. He loves Ilya. The entire League knows they’re married, and it isn’t that hard to believe that a married couple would be having sex. 

Or: Five times Shane chirped back at comments about his relationship, plus the one time he didn't

Notes

Content warning for homophobic language throughout the fic, including one use of the f-slur in the last part

one

It starts as an accident.

Shane is a little sleep deprived and they’re in overtime against Toronto. It’s been a hard game and it’s all he can do to stay upright and focused on the game. He loves hockey―he really does―but right now, he kind of wishes they were off the ice. He’s not sure how he’s still awake, but he’s sure it has something to do with the adrenaline of the game. All that to say: He’s tired. He isn’t exactly thinking.

His entire focus is on the center line, waiting for the puck to drop. It’s one of his favorite parts of the game: The anticipation and battling for the puck. It’s different now that Ilya is never on the opposite side of the line, but he still loves the thrill of the fight. It may be easier than it was against Ilya, but it isn’t easy. So he’s focused, eyes locked on the ice as he waits. Nothing else matters. He isn’t thinking about anything else, let alone his response when an inevitable chirp comes.

“Rozanov gonna fuck you like a little bitch tonight?”

“God,” Shane mutters, “I hope so.”

The puck drops and Shane whips it into his possession before Toronto’s new center even moves his stick. It’s unfairly easy and also the shortest overtime goal Shane has ever scored. With an assist, the goal lights up in seconds and Shane doesn’t understand how it went that fast. When he turns, it’s to find the Toronto center glaring at him. He’s barely off the center line; doesn’t seem to have moved at all, actually.

Shane doesn’t understand until later in the locker room. Ilya can’t stop talking about some chirp and Shane is only half listening until he hears his name.

“What?” He looks up with a frown. “I didn’t chirp anyone.”

“Shane, lyubimii, love of my life.” Ilya steps forward to press a smacking kiss to Shane’s forehead. Luckily for him, Shane is freshly showered so Ilya doesn’t get a mouthful of sweat. “You screen-broke―Barrett, what is word?”

“Error-screened,” Troy offers.

“Error-screened!” Ilya cheers. He turns back to Shane. “You error-screened Benoit!”

“I what?”

And that’s how Shane learns that his mouth had a mind of its own. It’s mortifying. He can’t believe he said that on center ice but then again, why does it matter? He realizes later on the drive home that, really, it isn’t that terrible of a response. All things considered, it’s a pretty tame thing to say or even admit on the ice. He’s heard chirps worse than his unconscious muttering. Besides, it isn’t like the MLH doesn’t know all about him and Ilya. What harm will playing into it do, especially when it gives him an advantage like that?

So it starts by accident, but it doesn’t take Shane very long to realize that actually, why can’t he lean into it? He loves Ilya. The entire League knows they’re together―married―and it isn’t that hard to believe that as a married couple, they’re having sex. 

It’s also, Shane will admit to himself only, a good way to get back at the League’s homophobic tendencies. He and Ilya have both put up with it for long enough. If players still want to poke at his sexuality and his relationship, there’s no reason Shane can’t respond.

two

Playing Boston is always difficult. They’re a good team even without Ilya and it’s always worse when Ottawa is the visiting team, but all in all, it’s okay. Shane likes the challenge. Even this late in the season, he enjoys having to fight for a win. He especially enjoys doing it when he and Ilya are playing on the same line. It only ever happens when they play Boston or Montreal, or when there's an injury.

Unlike Montreal, Boston doesn’t exclusively guard their ex-teammate. Shane is glad. It’s infuriating how Montreal always gangs up on him―picking him out from his new teammates and refusing to change their strategy even when it’s clear they won’t win by doing it. Shane is glad that Boston doesn’t have the same vendetta against Ilya. 

The two of them have spent almost half of their ice time on Boston’s side, sneaking the puck out from under the noses of the Bears and whipping it into the goal. Most of it has been Ilya doing the actual scoring. Shane has been happily assisting each one. He may be glad Boston doesn’t have a bone to pick with Ilya, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stop his husband from scoring a hat trick in the last period.

The goal lights up with Ilya’s third goal, but he’s already rocketing off toward the bench. Shane is quick to follow him, only to be intercepted by one of the Bears before Shane can circle the goal.

“Does he still fuck you when you can’t do better than an assist?”

Shane glances at the guy―taller than him, but not broader―and sees Ilya turn from the bench. It’s unusual for Shane to be so far behind him like this. He has seconds until his husband makes a target of this new kid.

“If I let him,” Shane says with a shrug. 

The kid’s face twists but Shane doesn’t stick around long enough to find out if he says anything else. The new lineup is heading toward the center line and Shane is thirsty. He skates around the kid and reaches the bench where Ilya is already holding out his water bottle.

“What was that?” Ilya asks. 

“Kid asked if you still fuck me when I only score assists,” Shane says. He tips his head back to take a drink but still catches the sight of Ilya’s face darkening.

“And what did you say?” 

“That you do if I let you.”

Ilya whips his head around to stare wide-eyed at Shane.

“What?” Shane asks. He takes another gulp of water. 

“That is hottest thing you have ever said,” Ilya says, and Shane can hear the lust in his voice. “You chirp Boston now?”

“When they comment on our relationship, yeah.”

On center ice, the puck drops and there’s a halfhearted battle for it. Up above, the clock counts down the remaining eight seconds. There’s no way for Boston to make up the two points they need to win.

“You defend my honor?” Ilya teases. Shane rolls his eyes.

“I defend our honor,” he corrects, “but only when they’re homophobic about it.”

Ilya grins and the buzzer blares overhead, signaling another win for Ottawa. They aren’t even on the ice but Ilya still kisses him as if they were. 

“So hot, my husband,” he murmurs against Shane’s lips. “Will you let me fuck you about it?”

“Dude, gross!” Dykstra shoves Ilya’s shoulder from behind and it knocks Ilya’s helmet into Shane’s. Ilya takes the opportunity to kiss Shane briefly before whirling around to tease Dykstra about being a child. Shane ignores it in favor of joining their teammates on the ice for handshakes.

three

Ilya is out on injury release during their first game of the new season. Wisdom teeth removal. He’s furious. Shane thinks it’s hilarious.

Ilya also insists on showing up and sitting on the bench despite his swollen cheeks and the fact that he still can’t drink out of straws, let alone shout at their teammates. It certainly doesn’t stop him from trying, though.

Coach Wiebe is both visibly fed up and fond of Ilya’s intensity by the end of the first period, so Shane doesn’t feel like it’s necessary to call up his mom yet. So long as Ilya doesn’t try to put on his skates, he won’t call in the big guns to keep Ilya down. Two minutes into the second period, however, he does have to remind Ilya of their agreement when he tries to jump the boards in his tennis shoes and hoodie.

“Illegal hit!” Ilya tells him. Shane gently pushes him back onto the bench. “Tha’ was illegal hit!”

One side of his mouth is stuffed with cotton after shouting so much last period that he started to bleed. Based on the looks Wiebe has been giving him, Shane is the only one who can understand Ilya now. It’s probably for the best.

“I’m fine,” Shane insists. He keeps a firm hand on Ilya’s thigh to keep him seated. “Now sit down or I’ll call my mom on you.”

Ilya scowls at Gagnon who has also retreated to his bench and settled in beside Pike. Shane very pointedly does not follow Ilya’s gaze.

Ilya is right, of course. It had been an illegal hit, but it had also been out of the refs’ sight. Shane’s ribs hurt from where Gagnon’s stick had stabbed under them, but there’s no point in bringing it up. The refs can’t do anything about it now. Telling Ilya also won’t do any good, especially since he isn’t even playing tonight.

When Shane is sent back onto the ice, Ilya is still upset on his behalf. Shane has chosen to move on.

By third period, his ribs are only more bruised. 

They’re losing, but not terribly. Shane knows Ottawa won’t recover―not when Ilya is out and he’s exhausted―but he still gives it his all. Playing against Montreal puts a fire in him unlike games against any other team. He still battles for the puck and shoots on the goal like they can recover from a 5–3 loss in the remaining three minutes. 

“Hollander,” Drapeau calls as he hoards the puck away from Shane and into his gloves, “tell me: Does sucking cock take away the pain of losing?”

It hurts more than Shane will admit. Drapeau had been his teammate; someone he once called a friend, even if that was a stretch.

And listen: Shane had grown to expect the comments from his teammates in his last year with the Voyageurs, but he never learned how to make them not hurt. Still, he can’t let Drapeau know this and there are three minutes in the game.

“I’d tell you,” Shane says, “but first I’d have to lose to find out. You let me know, though.”

He ties the game with seven seconds left on the clock, and Haas scores the winning goal. Shane doesn’t so much as look at the Voyageur’s bench, but he can tell based on Ilya’s attempted grin that they must be a sight for sore eyes.

“Wha’ di’ you say to Drapeau?” Ilya asks as the team files into the locker room. “He turned red. Mad.” Ilya grins. “Did you tell him about our sex?”

Shane rolls his eyes and Ilya’s grin widens before abruptly dropping. He hisses in pain and Shane doesn’t laugh, but it’s a near thing.

“Thupid teeth,” Ilya mutters. He pokes at his cheek and Shane swats his hand. “Can’t believe I can’t even give you celebratory blowjob. Is annoying.”

“You really should not be this excited about the homophobic comments people make at us,” Shane says. Up ahead, he sees Hayes and Boodram whip around to look at him. Their eyes narrow and Shane shakes his head. He doesn’t want to deal with that right now.

“Why not?” Ilya demands. “You chirp back. Is very hot.”

Shane doesn’t point out that it would be nice if he didn’t have to chirp in the first place. It really isn’t his favorite thing to do. This, however, has been fun. He likes seeing the look on players’ faces when they realize that chirping about his and Ilya’s relationship has the opposite effect they had been going for. 

“One day, you will fight them,” Ilya says. He tries to throw an arm over Shane’s shoulders, but in his skates and gear, Shane looms over him. Ilya is unsuccessful.

“No,” Shane argues, “I will not. I draw the line at chirping.”

Ilya hums. “Okay.”

It doesn’t sound like an agreement.

four

The worst one happens when Harris has the brilliant idea of clipping a live mic to Shane’s jersey.

In all honesty, Shane has forgotten about it. He doesn’t say much when he plays; nothing beyond short comments to the guys or instructions for his line. Unfortunately, the mic doesn’t just pick up those words.

He gets slammed into the boards from behind―not entirely unexpectedly―and has to battle with an unknown player from Detroit in order to keep the puck.

“Such pretty eyes, Hollzy,” the guy sneers. Shane has a brief moment of confusion where all he can think is, What a weird chirp, before the guy continues. “You the girl in the relationship, then?”

Shane’s first thought is, How do ‘pretty eyes’ make someone a woman? His second thought is, unfortunately, what makes it out of his mouth and into the live mic.

“Even if I was,” he says, wrangling the puck into his control, “you still wouldn’t be able to get pussy.”

He doesn’t realize what he’s said until after he shoots away from the guy and whips the puck back to Haas. Haas scores and the defender who should have stopped it before it reached the goalie―the guy who was attached to Shane like a weird leech―is still against the boards.

Slow, Shane thinks to himself, skating back to the bench. As he reaches for his water, his words catch up with him.

“Fuck,” he hisses only to remember he still has a live microphone attached to his jersey. “Shit. Fu―”

He slaps a hand over his mouth and hopes it’s subtle. All of this is being live-streamed on a family-friendly channel and Shane has not only (crudely) told an opposing player he can’t get laid, but has also cussed two and a half times.

He doesn’t think it should be his fault. He never asked to be mic’d up and really, the guy deserved it.

Oh well. Harris can deal with the fall out. Shane isn’t online―not in any way that actually matters―so he’ll just leave it to Harris and Ilya to let him know what damage is done.

(He does not expect the clip to be trending before the end of the game, or for Harris to demand that Shane be mic’d up again, but this time for social media purposes.)

five 

Ilya is his favorite right winger, but they only get the opportunity to play on the same line every once and a while. It happened more at the beginning: When Shane was adjusting to the new team and the rookies were still getting their skates under them. Now, on their second season together, it only happens when there’s an injury or something requires a last minute change. Shane wishes it happened more often. 

He has noticed that the chirps get… Well, weirder and more intrusive when Ilya isn’t on his line. Maybe it’s a good thing Ilya only plays beside him a couple of times a year, but Shane is a little annoyed that other players seem to think they can say whatever they want when Ilya isn’t there to throw a punch. 

And really, Ilya doesn’t fight that often. He did more as a Bear, but even that was more chirps than anything. When he did throw fists, it was only after someone else dropped their gloves first. He’d mastered walking that line early on.

Tonight is one of the normal nights―one where Shane isn’t sharing a line with Ilya―and Dallas’s new center has been busy mouthing off since the start of the game. He’s good―Shane will give him that―but his chirps have been getting weirder each time they face each other. Up until now, Shane has been largely ignoring them. It’s hard for anyone to get into his head, let alone a nineteen year old. For some reason, Shane’s lack of response only seems to fuel the kid’s desire to find a way to insult him.

The closest he comes is at the beginning of the last period. Even then, Shane isn’t so much bothered by it as he is happy to respond because finally―finally!―the kid has decided to say something interesting.

They’re bent over the line, waiting for the puck to drop, and Shane knows the kid is going to open his mouth without having to look.

“Rozanov bend you over like that?” 

It isn’t exactly in line with what the kid has been saying all night, but Shane isn’t surprised he’s finally resorted to this strategy. Lots of guys do eventually, even if the homophobic chirps are less this season than they were last. 

“You think about us fucking often?” Shane replies. “Kinky.”

The puck drops and Shane doesn’t have to fight for it. The kid blue screens―Shane never had the heart to correct Ilya’s previous glee about “error-screening” someone―and Shane takes full advantage of it. If the kid is going to be homophobic, Shane may as well teach him what to expect. 

Besides, if it’s a surefire way to win a face-off, should Shane really overlook it?

plus one

There’s something in the air whenever the Centaurs play Montreal. Shane’s old team is a mess―they can hardly hold their own against the Centaurs these days―but that doesn’t stop them from playing like it’s the Stanley Cup finals. Elbows are always straying and sticks like to go where they aren’t allowed. There are more game misconducts given out during Centaur–Voyageurs games than there ever were in a Bears–Voyageurs game.

It isn’t the whole team. Hayden and JJ are always civil, and some of the rookies are just trying to play their best. The others, though―those who once played with Shane―play nasty. Comeau alone seems to make it his personal mission to ruin Shane’s night whenever they’re on the ice together. His chirps are never loud enough for a ref to hear, even when they’re waiting on the center line.

“Roz still fuck you when you lose?” 

The Centaurs are two points behind. It’s not terrible, but it’s more than Montreal has held over their heads for this long. All period, they’ve been at a stalemate and unfortunately, Shane knows it’s very likely to end without the Centaurs gaining a lead.

Half the team is nursing one injury or another. Even Shane’s favoring a knee. 

Unlike when other players chirp him, Shane decides to ignore Comeau. It doesn’t help.

Comeau smashes him into the boards, his own knee colliding with Shane’s injured one, and Shane groans.

“You moan like that when he fucks you?”

Shane leaves Comeau against the boards without the puck. 

“What’s it like getting hard in the locker room?” Comeau asks later when they’re on their way back to their respective benches. The refs don’t seem to hear. Ilya does.

“I will kill him.” Ilya is already jumping the bench to take his place on center ice, but Shane stops him for a breath.

“Just―Leave it alone,” he says. “Comeau’s an asshole. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Ilya’s jaw tightens but he nods once and Shane releases him to take his place on center ice. Across the rink, Comeau sneers at him from the safety of his own bench. Beside him, Hayden scowls and pretends to not see Comeau when he stands up, his stick hitting Comeau’s helmet with a whack that Shane pretends he can hear.

“You just take it, don’t you?” Comeau says the next time they’re fighting for the puck against the boards. “Are you his good little boy?”

It continues the entire game, even when Shane is sure the refs hear. None of them blow a whistle. Shane spends half his time pointedly ignoring Comeau and the other half convincing his teammates to let it go. They all look as happy about it as Ilya, but they don’t drop their gloves. In fact, they make it all the way to the end of the game before anyone does.

Shane shoots on Montreal’s goal with thirteen seconds left in the game. The puck goes in, but it won’t save the game. That’s never stopped Shane from shooting, though, so he still makes the shot even if it’s rather pointless, and Comeau is exactly where he’s been all night: Right behind Shane’s shoulder.

“Was it worth it to choose your fag husband over a winning team?"

There are seven seconds left on the clock when Shane drops his gloves and swings. 

Comeau’s visor cracks and Shane’s fist immediately stings, but he doesn’t let up. He swings again and his knuckles ache as they connect with Comeau’s jaw this time. Comeau's skates go out from under him and he flails, one arm swinging toward Shane’s face and the other trying to grab him. He’s successful only with the later, and Shane hits the ice on top of him. Shane takes the opportunity to get a third punch in before he’s inevitably pulled off.

"Don't you fucking talk about him!" Shane shouts. "Keep his name out of your goddamn mouth!"

Boodram is the one who grabs Shane, but it takes both him and Barrett to pull Shane free. Shane isn’t sure if they simply aren’t trying that hard or if he’s more riled up than he thought. Regardless, he fights them even as the refs call out a penalty.

“You fucking whore!” Comeau shouts in French. It takes Drapeau and Miitka to pull him back even with the ref pushing him away. “You don’t belong here, fa―”

“Misconduct!” the second ref interrupts Comeau, also in French, shoving him back a little harsher as the slur is repeated in French. “Comeau, that’s a fine.”

Shane can’t make out anything beyond that. The refs talk over each other, Voyageurs and Centaurs alike crowd the space, and Shane is pulled all the way back to the home bench. He fights it the entire time and only stops when someone shoves him backwards and he trips over the step up.

He doesn’t hit the ground like he expects. Instead, Ilya’s face pops up above him and strong arms catch him.

“You said no fighting,” Ilya teases. He looks the opposite of upset. “He deserves it now?”

“He insulted you.” Shane shrugs as Ilya helps him right himself. Boodram stands like a barricade between him and the ice.

“You will get a misconduct,” Ilya says. “What will sponsors think then?”

“Considering Comeau is getting a misconduct and a fine for blatant homophobia,” Shane says, watching as Ilya’s face twists in delight, “I’m sure they’ll be okay. If they drop me for fighting a homophobe, it’ll only look worse for them.”

Ilya’s grin stays wicked and gleeful even through the handshake. Comeau isn’t present. 

Later, they’re at a bar with the team to―apparently―celebrate Shane’s attack on Comeau. It seems like an odd thing to celebrate, but at least the guys aren’t upset about the loss. Shane also isn’t above drinking to Comeau’s public humiliation, either. He hardly got half a hit on Shane. It isn’t a good look for his tough-guy approach; combined with the news that Comeau has been suspended and fined, it feels more like a victory than Shane expected it to.

When the clip of the fight is replayed on the sports channel overhead, he gets to see Ilya’s reaction to the fight. Until then, the thought of how Ilya reacted to it hadn’t crossed his mind. 

The TV is far away and Ilya’s reaction only takes up half the screen. The other half is the clip of Shane. Even with these challenges, Shane has no difficulty seeing the utter joy on Ilya’s face, his entire focus clearly locked on Shane. Both clips end when Boodram and Barrett succeed at pulling him to the bench. It cuts to muted announcers but Shane doesn’t care about whatever they’re saying. He cares a rather lot about his husband.

Ilya is already looking at him. Shane doesn’t think he’s stopped, actually. The feeling of Ilya’s eyes on him hasn’t disappeared since they walked off the ice.

“What?” Ilya grins when Shane just stares. “Was hot. You broke Comeau’s nose defending my honor.”

Shane has been holding ice on his busted knuckles since the medical team got to him. The bar was nice enough to give him a ziploc bag with fresh ice when they walked through the door. All that to say, his hands are very, very cold when he reaches out to drag Ilya’s lips to his. Ilya―the bastard―just keeps grinning.

“You should fight more, lyubimii,” he murmurs when Shane finally lets him breathe. “Is hot.”

“You keep saying that,” Shane says with a hum, “but you haven’t done anything to show me just how hot it was.”

It’s all the encouragement Ilya needs to make a very loud goodbye and drag Shane home. They get an Uber and Ilya doesn’t stop kissing some part of Shane's body the entire ride home. From there, he has no hesitation in showing Shane exactly how hot he found the fight, and Shane falls asleep wondering if maybe dropping his gloves again sometime wouldn’t be such a bad idea.