Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Post-Book 2: Heated Rivalry (Game Changers), Pre-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), part of the three years in which they are friends to the media and can hang out, Shane and Ilya go on a date !, The terrifying ordeal of holding your boyfriends hand at a restaurant, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Fluff, Lowkey got a little more introspective then I expected, Established Relationship, Dating

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-03 Words: 2,238 Chapters: 1/1

petals off flowers, will you be mine (be mine)

Summary

Shane walks into the Aux Vivres and immediately spots Rozanov at the corner table, doing a spectacularly awful job of disguising himself. The sunglasses he’s chosen to wear are hanging off his face, giving Shane a clear view of his blue eyes spotting him, lighting up and crinkling at the sides.

“Mr. Rozanov.” Shane clears his throat and pulls his chair out. Ilya snorts and grins up at him, reaching up to take his sunglasses off and tuck them neatly into the collar of his hoodie.

“‘Mr. Rozanov?’ What, am I fifty?” Ilya raises his eyebrows at him.
----
OR: Shane and Ilya go on a date!

Notes

saw a Twitter post about Hollanov being in public before the long game, and it took root. (thank you twitter user hudcinema I hope your pillow is always cold).

Did I majorly fuck up my sleep schedule for this? Yes. I have zero regrets, absolutely worth it.

Shane walks into the Aux Vivres and immediately spots Rozanov at the corner table, doing a spectacularly awful job of disguising himself. The sunglasses he’s chosen to wear are hanging off his face, giving Shane a clear view of his blue eyes, spotting him, lighting up, and crinkling at the sides. His blonde hair is a bit messy in a way that makes Shane want to do truly illegal things he cannot do in a public restaurant, and his chain is caught between his teeth. Or was. It drops when Ilya smiles brightly at Shane, his back straightening against the wooden chair as Shane approaches. 

“Mr. Rozanov.” Shane clears his throat and pulls his chair out. Ilya snorts and grins up at him, reaching up to take his sunglasses off and tuck them neatly into the collar of his hoodie. 

“‘Mr. Rozanov?’ What, am I fifty?” Ilya raises his eyebrows at him. Shane rolls his eyes as he sits. Ilya hooks his ankle around Shane’s foot, and Shane immediately wishes they were in his cottage so he could kiss him stupid. Wishes he could lean over and tangle their arms together. It had been a little over two weeks since they had actually had time in their schedules to meet, what with the season starting, sending them in practically opposite directions, and Shane misses his boyfriend. He wonders if he could get away with sitting next to Ilya platonically. He brushes the thought aside and tilts his head at the man sitting across from him. 

“Shut up,” Shane says, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards, “I, uh, understand you wanted to talk about the Irina foundation.” It’s a cover, obviously, and he says it a little louder than entirely necessary, just in case anyone is overhearing. Ilya scoffs and leans over the table, dragging Shane closer with his ankle, which is a little impressive, honestly, and Shane seriously considers saying fuck it and asking Rozanov if they can leave early. 

“Hollander, I did not drive two hours to talk about boring charity with you,” Ilya mutters low and a little grumbly, looking over the menu in his hand. It’s cute if Ilya wasn’t also indirectly insulting the charity that they both had put a lot of effort into, actually. 

“It’s not boring,” Shane bristles, and Ilya glances up at Shane and melts.

“No, it’s not, but you’re more interesting, I think,” Ilya responds softly, slowly bringing his free hand closer to Shane’s. They nearly overlap, and Shane smiles at the effort. It wouldn’t take much distance for them to be holding hands. Shane sucks in a breath and glances around the shop. 

“What if people overhear us?” He blurts out, and Ilya moves his hand away in response. Shane wishes he could take it back. He makes another cursory glance around before sliding his hand across the table, brushing his pinky across Ilya’s own. It makes his heart beat faster in his chest, but the tender smile Ilya shoots his way makes it worth it, he thinks. 

“I thought the whole point of this was so we could hang out, and it would not be weird. Sit down, look at menu, talk to me,” Ilya points out, nudging the top of Shane’s foot with his own. Shane sighs but nudges him back. 

“Yeah, ok.” Shane smiles and leans back in the chair, pulling the menu up to look at it. He glances up after a second and meets Ilya’s gaze over the menu. He scoffs happily and tugs at Ilya’s leg. Ilya’s menu drops slightly to reveal the growing smile on his face. Shane tilts his down to share his own. 

A waiter comes by to take their drink order, and the two both order water, although Shane mentally debates against the benefits of ordering a smoothie as well. Shane decides what he wants to order quickly, having already been here before was one of the reasons he agreed to meet here after all, and spends the next couple of minutes stealing glances at Ilya from across the table. His cross is back in his mouth as he goes through the menu, his finger scanning the words as he reads. He looks gentle, domestic almost, and Shane wants to take this version of Ilya and burn it into his retinas. He looks so comfortable, meeting Shane’s gaze every once in a while and smiling so softly that Shane wants to commit public indecency. He wants to lean over the table to slot their lips together and really fix this image into his mind. Instead, he links the tips of their pinkies together, purposefully turning away as he feels Ilya look. 

“How’s Ottawa?” He asks casually, a smile tugging on his lips as he feels Ilya’s hand tap against his own. 

“Boring without you,” Ilya responds quickly, his pinky steadily tapping out the melody to whatever music the restaurant picks. Shane wishes absently that they could hold hands without it being a big deal. 

“That can’t be your answer to everything, Ilya,” Shane responds, rolling his eyes fondly. Ilya groans and leans back, his hand slipping away from Shane’s. Shane misses the warmth immediately, and Ilya makes up for it by hooking his ankle more securely around Shane’s. 

“It’s the truth, do you want me to lie to you? Oh, it’s great, team is great, we are winning all the time. I think the cup is within reach,” Ilya sarcastically recounts. It’s fair, the Ottawa Centaurs are not the best team in the league, but they’ve been improving, albeit very slowly, with Ilya on the team. 

“Montreal is good, I think we’ll probably win against Buffalo in a couple of days,” Shane recaps, pondering. They’ve been on a winning streak lately, and Shane doesn’t think it will stop soon. Montreal has been changing the first line, switching out the previous right winger with Comeau, and it’s been working. 

“Yeah, cause it’s Buffalo,” Ilya huffs, his head falling back dramatically. Shane would agree, except

“Didn’t you lose against Buffalo last week?” He asks, pointing with the menu he's holding at where Ilya sits. Ilya straightens up, his mouth opening and closing. 

“This isn’t about me,” Ilya says, grabbing the menu out of Shane’s hand and putting it back on the table. 

“Uh, it kind of is,” Shane retorts, kicking Ilya lightly under the table, “C’mon, I missed you or whatever. Tell me something more than just ‘it’s boring.’” He imitates Ilya’s accent towards the end, rolling the ‘r’ and emphasizing the ‘ng’ in boring. It’s a pretty decent impression, he thinks. Ilya glares at him.  

“That’s a horrible impression of me,” he says instead. Shane thinks he should get at least some points, but he digresses. 

“Ilya,” Shane sighs, tugging at Ilya’s leg under the table. Ilya pouts at him for a second, and Shane stubbornly stares at him until the expression melts into a smile that Shane has only ever seen turned his way. 

“Okay, мой любовь, for you. The team is nice, I think, Boodram is on my line, we could be friends maybe,” Ilya recounts. Shane isn’t jealous of Ilya’s teammates. He’s not. Because that would be irrational, and incredibly petty, and moreover, Shane is an adult. Ilya is allowed to have friends. He arguably should make friends with his teammates. So Shane isn’t jealous. 

“That’s nice,” Shane says, gripping his cup of water tightly for no reason at all. Ilya smirks at him anyway. 

“Are you jealous?” He asks, his eyes twinkling brightly. 

“No, why would I be jealous?” Shane lies, tightening his hold on the glass as he takes a long swig. Ilya hums consideringly.

“Because you are gripping your glass very tightly. It might break,” Ilya observes. Shane puts the glass down. He scoffs and pulls his legs back from where they are tangled with Ilya’s, 

“Fuck off, Rozanov,” He replies, but it’s a cop out, and Ilya knows it. Ilya’s grin sharpens, and he laughs shortly. Shane loves it. Loves him really, but who’s counting. 

“Hollander, take me to dinner first,” Ilya quips, his hand flying to his heart in mock offense. 

“Does lunch count?” Shane retorts, gesturing to the table. Ilya leans forward and rests his head in his palm, his eyes never leaving Shane’s, and the smile not leaving his face. 

“Hmm, I think I can make an exception for you.” Ilya will probably find a way to pay for lunch, too. He keeps sneaking off and paying it before Shane can realize, it’s incredibly frustrating–Shane was raised correctly after all–and also incredibly attractive, and makes Shane want to jump his bones. 

“Oh, good,” Shane replies sarcastically, setting his hand on the table. He wants to touch, to hold Ilya’s hand, kind of, and he can’t very well slip his foot in between Ilya’s without losing. Losing what, he doesn’t exactly know, but he doesn’t want to be the one to initiate the contact. 

“Haha,” Ilya laughs dryly, “I can tell you are being sarcastic.”

“Thank God, I was worried for a second it would slip past you because of all the brain damage,” Shane remarks, staring at Ilya’s free hand. It’s gone back to rhythmically tapping on the table. Shane nudges his hand closer. 

“Why the fuck do I have brain damage?” Ilya says, confused, following Shane’s eyeline to his hand, he stops tapping. Shane huffs, annoyed, that was not what he meant. 

“Because of all the fights you get into,” He says instead, staring intently at his own hand on the table. He mentally tries to send Ilya the message. Hold my hand, please, he thinks, please want to. 

“Oh, does your concussion count as brain damage then? We should check.” Ilya reaches over to ruffle his hair, and Shane swats his hand away, and then swats the second hand that comes at him, too. 

“I must have brain damage because why else would I like you?” He huffs. Ilya’s hand is finally, finally, back on the table. Shane rests his as well. Ilya’s eyes brighten. 

“Hmm, but you do like me,” Ilya observes, grinning as he slides his hand closer to Shane’s. 

“I do, I really, really do.” Shane is smiling so wide that he thinks he probably looks stupid. It doesn’t matter, not really, not when Ilya is smiling like that, and their hands are so close he would just have to lift his finger for them to be tangled together. 

“Embarrassing,” Ilya says as he links their pinkies together. 

“Shut the fuck up. You said I love you first!” Shane defends, sliding his foot closer to Ilya’s and nudging it. Ilya is quick to grant his wish and rehooks their ankles together. 

“Slandar and defamation,” He beams, and Shane slides his ring finger closer too. It’s kind of like holding hands, except without the debilitating fear that someone will know. It’s nice. 

“Where did you learn that?” Shane asks, trying to remember if Ilya had ever been sued. He hasn’t, he doesn’t think, and although they weren’t as close before, Shane had kept track of Rozanov’s name in the tabloids, and he’s fairly certain he would know if he had been sued before, right?

“Hayes is really into this courtroom show right now,” Ilya explains, waving the hand not currently entrapped with Shane’s around, like he hadn't just given Shane a mini heart attack. Shane scans his brain, trying to remember the late-night Google of Ilya’s team and what Ilya had gossiped over their numerous calls. 

“Hayes is your goalie, right?” He guesses. Ilya’s eyes widen, ok so he hasn’t mentioned Hayes in a while, Shane guesses. Ilya smiles, anyway. 

“Wow, researching my team? You really do love me,” He purrs, and Shane smiles despite himself; he wants to hold his hand. He really, really wants to hold his hand. 

“You're such a dick,” Shane shakes his head, but there’s no heat behind the words, and Ilya just scrunches his face, pleased. 

“You know this, and you love me anyway,” He dismisses. Shane sighs a long, suffering sigh. He doesn’t love Ilya anyway. He loves that Ilya can be a little catty; he’s funny, though he would never tell him that. And he can’t really say that in the middle of a restaurant in Montreal. 

“You just like hearing me say it, don’t you?” Shane says instead, sliding his hand closer, maybe Ilya will take the leap to hold his hand. However, Ilya has been very intent on letting Shane set the pace. Shane’s eyes flick around to the mostly empty room; they really are the only people here. 

“Yes,” Ilya declares, drumming his fingers on the table and raising his eyebrows at Shane. Maybe Shane can be brave this time. 

“I love you, Ilya.” Shane closes his eyes and takes a breath before taking the initiative and holding Ilya’s hand. The world doesn’t end; in fact, the grin Ilya sports after makes him freeze where he sits, squeezing Ilya’s hand tighter, and he thinks his heart is probably fucked after this. He would do a lot to make Ilya smile like that. He’s suddenly incredibly grateful that the plan worked, that they’re able to do this, and people won’t gawk at the two “rivals” eating lunch. They can be “friends” and hang out, and it’s not disastrous. It’s actually really lovely. 

“I love you too Shane,” Ilya softly responds, and Shane relaxes.