Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

planning for the future, Love Confessions, supportive husbands, Fade to Black, they're very earnest and playful here

Language:

English

Series:

Part 4 of Married in Vegas

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-23 Words: 1,543 Chapters: 1/1

I know just how to scheme

Summary

They're together and they're planning for a future together...

Notes

I still have many many many ideas for this series. This one was just short and sweet x

“I do not think we tell our teams,” Ilya said randomly, a few days later. They were in Shane’s home gym, both out of breath and sweaty.

“Oh?” Shane said, setting the weights he’d been pumping up on the bar and sitting up, wiping his face with a towel.

He stood and motioned for Ilya to take his place, grabbing his water bottle and taking a slug from it.

Ilya looked up at him, gripping the bar with his hands as he carefully lifted the bar, bringing it down to his chest with an attractive ease. He smirked as if he could read Shane’s mind, doing a quick set.

When he sat up, Shane passed him his own water bottle and towel, and waited for him to elaborate.

“I think,” Ilya said after setting the water bottle down, running the towel through his damp curls, “I worry it will not go well. We are good, very good, but not yet-”

“Legends,” Shane finished the sentence with a frown. He was right. He’d met the commissioner a handful of times, Roger Crowell. He didn’t inspire Shane with a great deal of confidence. 

He barely supported the tokenistic effort the league already made at running pride nights. And he’d been a very vocal supporter of keeping hockey about hockey. Anything else was a distraction.

The two biggest rivals in the league being married was a massive distraction.

“Yes,” Ilya agreed. “I think we must make a long term plan. And this plan must include some cups.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Any plan we make would involve winning cups regardless,” he pointed out. “We play professional hockey for a living.”

Ilya conceded this point with a nod. “True, but it must be you or me, next few years.”

He gave him a smirk. “It’ll be Montreal,” he promised.

“We will see,” Ilya said. “Maybe Boston will go for a hat trick. Then I will be very, very rich and we can come out and you can be kept man.”

Shane huffed out a laugh at that. “You wish. Boston doesn’t look half as scary now with Price traded away.”

Ilya frowned at that. Shane caught it immediately.

“What is it?” he asked.

“He is not what you think,” Ilya admitted. “He was quiet. Nice guy. He did not really make any friends.”

Shane considered this. “Oh, well, I’m sorry, then.”

“I don’t think he liked fighting,” Ilya said, his eyes distant. “He would get this sad look in his eyes, when he dropped his gloves.” He shook his head, expression clearing. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He is gone to Buffalo now.”

“Maybe you should reach out to him,” Shane suggested. 

Ilya considered this. “Maybe.”

“Okay,” Shane continued. “So, we train hard. Play hard, focus on winning some cups.”

“Yes,” Ilya nodded.

“I have an idea, too,” Shane said. At Ilya’s interested look, he looped his towel over the back of his neck and sat on the ground. “I think we need to change the narrative of our rivalry, a bit.”

Ilya frowned. “What do you mean?”

Shane gave a shrug. “I don’t know, I just… everyone thinks we fucking hate each other. This rivalry thing with the media has crept in everywhere. I swear the press asks me more about you than my own plays.”

“Same,” Ilya agreed. “Even when we are playing on opposite sides of the country.”

“It pisses me off,” Shane admitted. “But I don’t know, I think maybe people wouldn’t find the idea of us so shocking if we ease them into it. Make the rivalry a bit more of a friendly competition.”

Ilya’s eyebrows rose at this. “Ah, you think we should be friends?”

“Don’t you?” Shane shot back. “It would be nice to not have to pretend to hate your guts every time someone mentions you.”

Ilya nodded thoughtfully.

Shane had been thinking about this for a week now, he had a few ideas percolating.

“By now, people have probably noticed that you didn’t go to Russia like you usually do, and that you’ve changed your agent,” Shane said. “And well, people know that Farah is my agent.”

He watched Ilya grimace at that and continued.

“I don’t know how we spin that, truthfully. Maybe we don’t acknowledge it at all, but Farah organises a lot for me. Trainers, sponsors, ice rentals, hotels, all sorts of things. She’ll do the same for you, which will probably mean us seeing each other more outside of hockey.”

“You think I should train with you?” Ilya asked, surprised.

Shane nodded. “Yeah, I do. And it will make the friendship a bit more believable. I think once people get over this idea that we can exist in the same place without killing each other, it’ll slowly change how the press treats our rivalry.”

“You have thought a lot about this,” Ilya said, his eyes fixed on Shane’s face.

“You’re my husband,” Shane said, holding his gaze. “I take that seriously. I don’t want to have to say bad things about you.”

Ilya blinked. “Oh.”

“When people say ‘oh Rozanov, he’s such an asshole,’ I want to be able to say that you’re actually a pretty decent guy, and that you’re a good player, and good for the sport.”

“You are going to ruin my reputation,” Ilya accused him, though his eyes were soft and a little glassy.

“You have discovered my evil plan,” Shane nodded, lips quirking up. “I just want to see a future where we can, I don’t know, go get lunch before a fucking game and it’s not a headline, you know?”

“I want that, too,” Ilya said quietly. He shook his head in disbelief, and covered his face with his hands.

Shane frowned and sat up, crawling over and resting his hands on his thighs.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, running his hands up and down his heated skin.

Ilya let his hands fall, and his expression was vulnerable in a way he’d never seen before.

“I keep thinking,” Ilya admitted, his voice wavering slightly, “this is it, he will run now. This will scare him away. But instead you make these plans in your head, ways to help us be together. And I do not know, I am overwhelmed.”

Shane considered his words for a few long moments. He understood. It didn’t quite feel real to Shane either, sometimes. That Ilya was here. That he got to have this. But something about that certificate and the gold band around his neck had settled into his bones, a feeling of rightness that he hadn’t been able to shake. 

He didn’t want to. He wanted to build his life around this ridiculous, irritating, wonderful man.

Sliding his hands up Ilya’s thighs, his stomach, his chest, he cupped his face in his hands, waiting for him to meet his gaze before he spoke, making sure he was heard.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a conviction that he’d never felt about anything except hockey. “Ilya Rozanov, for better or worse, you’re fucking stuck with me.”

Ilya’s smile was brilliant, and Shane kissed him, thinking those three words loudly in his head, knowing that he felt them with every atom of his body. Maybe it was too soon, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t have stopped himself whispering them into Ilya’s lips even if he wanted to.

Under his hands, Ilya went very, very still.

“What did you say?” he croaked, leaning back and staring at him, his eyes wide.

Shane rubbed his thumbs over his cheeks. “Ilya,” he said simply. “I love you.”

Tears welled in Ilya’s eyes, clinging to his lashes.

“Shane,” he whispered. “Ya tebya lyublyu. I love you.”

Shane felt his heart stop, and it was his turn to cry. “Holy shit,” he breathed. 

Ilya reached for him, his hands sinking into Shane’s hair as he crushed their lips together. It gentled almost immediately, and Ilya was kissing him like he was something precious, something important, something he loved.

They kissed for what felt like forever, and Shane was dizzy by the time he pulled away, his lips tender, his heart full.

“I love you so much,” he said again. “Jesus Christ, Ilya.”

Ilya laughed and kissed him one last time, before pulling Shane into a hug, burying his face in his neck. Shane clung to him, ignoring the ache in his knees for just a minute longer, closing his eyes and holding on.

When he stood, Ilya made a grumpy noise, pouting up at him.

Shane just shook his head, bemused.

“Come on,” he said with mock seriousness. “We’ve been really neglecting our cardio.”

“You are thinking about exercise at a time like this?” Ilya scoffed.

Shane smiled, stepping back, hands teasing at the bottom of his shirt. “I take my training very seriously,” he said.

Ilya’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I see,” he said, jumping to his feet. “Perhaps you are right.”

“Cardio is very important,” Shane said, fighting a grin, lifting his shirt and tossing it aside, careless for once in his life. “Stamina, too.”

Ilya stalked him like a predator, that crooked grin Shane had fallen in love with lighting up his entire face.

He took off for the bedroom, Ilya hot on his heels.