Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

M/M, Multi

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Jackie Pike

Additional Tags:

WAG Ilya Rozanov, Fluff, Texting, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Anxious Shane Hollander, Fluff and Crack

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of Wine Night, Eventually

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-01 Words: 2,327 Chapters: 1/1

Wine Night, Shane's Version

Summary

Shane agrees to wine night thinking it’s harmless. He is immediately proven wrong.

Notes

i absolutely NEEDED this because it didn't fit in my original fic but i LOVED the idea so here we go!! enjoy :)))

Shane learns three things very quickly.
One: the group chat has opinions.
Two: the internet has more opinions.
Three: Ilya has absolutely none of them.

Shane sits on the couch, phone in hand, watching Ilya calmly reorganize the fridge like his life hasn’t just become a trending topic.

“You’re famous,” Shane says.

“Yes,” Ilya replies, checking expiration dates. “Briefly.”

“That doesn’t stress you out?”

“No.”

Shane watches him for a second longer. Smiles.

“Cool,” Shane says. “Because they just invited me to wine night.”

Ilya pauses.
Looks up.
Considers this.

“Oh,” he says. “That gold.”

“Perfecttt,” Shane says. “Because apparently I’m a recurring character now.”

Ilya finally looks up.

“Because of the FaceTime?”

“Yes,” Shane says. “They said it ‘answered questions.’”

Ilya hums. “Good.”

Shane laughs — already doomed anyway.

The boys find out immediately.

Shane doesn’t even have to tell them. He opens the team chat to nineteen unread messages and the distinct sensation of walking into a locker room where everyone has already decided this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened.

JJ: you alive?!

Drew: he’s busy being famous now

Olsson: famous?

Gilbert: he got OUTED by a MIRROR, that’s cursed

Patrice: i don’t understand phones and i still know mirrors are evil

Hayden: tell him i’m suing glass

Roy: mirrors have been suspicious since the beginning
Roy: hayden he should be suing YOU

Alex: this is why i cover mine

JJ: hayden you act like this wasn't your fault
JJ: do you need a ride or are you going to pretend you’re fine like always

Hayden: trust me ilya has made it clear it is my fault i do not need more of you assholes shaming me
Hayden: i'll release jackie on you guys

Shane types back, cautious.

Shane: i’m fine

Drew: that’s not an answer

Shane: ilya is going to wine night

JJ: WHAT

Olsson: what is wine night

Patrice: a ritual

Gilbert: if he needs rescuing blink twice

Roy: i can be there in ten

Alex: same

Shane: i’m not even there

Hayden: LMAO he’s sending his boyfriend into the lion’s den alone

Drew: Growth
Drew: Rin said she's excited... hope he's ready for that

Shane looks up at Ilya, who is now lining up condiments by height.

“They’re excited,” Shane says.

“Yes,” Ilya agrees. “They were like this before.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

Ilya shrugs. “You will survive.”

“Bold claim.”

Wine night with Shane present is… louder.

Significantly louder.

It starts fine. Normal, even. Jackie opens the door, takes one look at Shane, and sighs like a woman who has accepted fate.

“You came,” she says.

“I was told it was educational,” Shane replies.

Jackie hands him a glass of wine immediately. “Drink this before anyone makes it weird.”

Too late.

Noelle gasps like she’s spotted a celebrity in the wild. “Oh my god. He’s shorter than I thought. You look taller on the ice.”

“I’m right here,” Shane says.

“That’s worse,” Tess replies.

Rin squints at him. “You look exactly like your FaceTime thumbnail, but much different than when you play hockey.”

Shane turns to Ilya. “They’ve studied me.”

“Yes,” Ilya says. “You were paused.”

That explains too much.

Within ten minutes, Shane is seated on the couch between Tess and Rin, wine refilled without his consent, being asked questions that are definitely not approved by the NHL media policy.

“So,” Noelle says, leaning forward. “Did you know Lily was Ilya the whole time?”

“Yes,” Shane says.

“And you didn’t tell us?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Shane thinks about it. “Self-preservation.”

“That checks out,” Tess says.

Jackie watches from the kitchen, amused but alert, like someone supervising a science experiment that might start a fire.

Shane relaxes a little. The teasing is sharp but affectionate. The wine helps. The room feels warm, lived-in, safe in that loud, chaotic way.

Then Noelle claps her hands.

“Okay,” she says. “Tradition.”

Jackie freezes. “No.”

Rin lights up. “YES.”

Shane blinks. “What tradition.”

Noelle points at him. “You have to do the thing.”

Shane looks at Ilya. “What thing.”

Ilya considers this. Slowly. Carefully.

“There are many things.”

“That’s not helping.”

Tess stands up. “Everyone shut up. Shane doesn’t know yet.”

“I do not like the tone of this,” Shane says.

Rin grabs the salt shaker and gestures to Ilya.

Shane’s soul leaves his body.

“No,” Shane says immediately. “Nope. Absolutely not.”

Noelle grins. “Relax. We all did it.”

“That’s not comforting!”

“It’s symbolic,” Tess adds, which is somehow worse.

Ilya raises an eyebrow. “Shane it’s tradition.”

“Bonding,” Rin says. “Trust.”

“Alcohol,” Noelle says honestly.

Jackie pinches the bridge of her nose. “I hate all of you.”

Shane looks at Ilya, scandalized. “You did this?”

Ilya shrugs. “I participated.”

“With who.”

“Everyone,” Ilya says. “They are persuasive.”

Shane exhales. “I’m jealous, and I don’t like it.”

Noelle is already sprinkling salt onto Ilya’s collarbone like this is a religious ceremony.

“Okay,” she says. “Shane. Lick the salt.”

The room goes dead quiet.

Shane stares. “I’m sorry, what.”

Ilya looks down at his position on the couch, then back up at Shane. “If it helps, this is not strange to them.”

“That doesn’t help.”

Tess whispers, “Do it.”

Rin adds, “For the culture.”

Jackie mutters, “I’m going to prison.”

Shane groans, cheeks already burning. He leans closer to Ilya, voice low. “You owe me for this.”

“Yes,” Ilya agrees easily.

The room is still screaming when Rin’s phone comes out.

She doesn’t announce it.
Just lifts it casually, like this is already being archived.

“Rin,” Shane says weakly. “Please.”

She smiles sweetly. “Oh, this isn’t for social media.”

“That’s worse.”

Jackie cuts in, laughing quietly as she tips her wine glass.
“Shane — are you actually okay with this?”

The room stills just enough to notice.

Shane looks at Ilya.
Really looks at him.

Ilya meets his eyes, calm and steady. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t pressure.

“You do not have to,” Ilya says quietly.

Shane exhales. Then huffs a laugh, resigned and flushed.
“…I’m okay,” he says. “I just hate that you’re all sober enough to remember it.”

“That’s a yes,” Rin says cheerfully.

Jackie nods once. “Okay. Then proceed.”

Rin hits record.

The footage is devastating.

Shane’s red face.
Ilya’s collarbone still faintly salted.
The exact moment Shane realizes this will follow him for the rest of his career.

Shane licks the salt. Slowly.

Rin stops recording just as Shane sinks back against the couch, burying his face in his hands.

The room explodes.

Cheering. Screaming. Someone definitely knocks over a glass. Shane straightens immediately, mortified, face fully red.

“I cannot believe I just did that,” he says.

Ilya tilts his head. “You did well.”

“Do not praise me.”

Noelle fans herself. “I’m unwell.”

Tess wipes at her eyes. “This is better than cable.”

Rin squints at Shane. “You’re very obedient.”

Shane splutters. “I am NOT—”

Ilya’s mouth quirks.

Shane stops talking.

Jackie pours herself more wine. “I hate this house.”

“I’m changing teams,” he mutters.

“You can’t,” Noelle says cheerfully. “You’re part of us now.”

Rin’s phone buzzes immediately.

She looks down.
Grins.

Before she can say anything, Noelle leans over her shoulder.

“Hold on,” Noelle says. “Before you send that anywhere—”

Rin pauses, thumbs hovering. “Shane?”

Shane looks up from his glass, still pink and doomed. “What.”

“Can I send it to one group chat,” Rin says. “The boys. Not the internet. Not Twitter. Just them.”

Shane groans, then sighs. “…Fine. One. If this ruins my life, I’m haunting you.”

“Consent king,” Tess says solemnly.

Jackie nods. “Documented.”

Rin hits send.

Shane squints at his screen. “Why do I suddenly have twelve notifications.”

Ilya glances over his shoulder.

“Oh,” he says mildly. “They are efficient.”

Shane opens the team chat.

Regrets it instantly.

Drew: WHAT
Drew: IS
Drew: THIS

JJ: IS THAT SALT

Gilbert: I KNEW WINE NIGHT WAS A TRAP

Patrice: I am choosing not to understand this

Roy: Shane blink twice if you’re being held hostage

Shane types furiously.

Shane: DELETE THAT
Shane: IT WAS NOT A REAL THING

Drew: Rin says otherwise

JJ: She sent the video
JJ: You were very brave

Shane groans out loud.

“I hate you,” he tells Ilya.

Ilya takes another sip of wine. “You volunteered.”

“I DID NOT.”

“You leaned forward.”

“That was PEER PRESSURE.”

Across the room, Rin’s phone buzzes again.

She reads, then cackles.

“Oh no,” she says. “Drew’s made it his lock screen.”

Shane makes a strangled noise. “I’m retiring.”

Drew: Just so you know
Drew: This is already in the group chat archive

Gilbert: This explains so much about you actually

JJ: Does this mean we have to do it too

Patrice: Absolutely not

Roy: Speak for yourself

Shane stares at the screen. “Why are they like this.”

Ilya considers. “They are bonding.”

“With ME?”

“Yes.”

“That’s worse.”

Another message pops up.

Drew: Also
Drew: Tell Ilya we like him
Drew: And that he needs to go through OUR hazing ritual

Ilya leans over, reading.

“They said they like me.”

Shane squints. “That’s it? After everything?”

Ilya nods. “They are simple.”

Shane sighs, defeated, then glances around the room — at the wine glasses, the laughter, Jackie watching everything like a proud general, the way no one looks uncomfortable or curious in the wrong way anymore.

“They’re going to bring this up forever,” he says.

“Yes,” Ilya agrees.

Shane exhales. Smiles despite himself. “Worth it.”

Ilya’s mouth quirks.

The rest of the night dissolves into chaos.

They make Shane rate wines blindly. They convince him everyone cried during smash or pass (a lie). They tell him Ilya once fixed a flight cancellation with a single sentence and demand he explain how he fell in love with someone so terrifying.

“I like competence,” Shane says weakly.

“That’s hot,” Noelle replies.

At some point, Shane ends up on the floor with Anya, who has been smuggled into the party and is now receiving more attention than him.

“This was a trap,” Shane says, petting her.

Ilya sits beside him, glass in hand, perfectly composed. “Yes.”

“You set me up.”

“Yes.”

Shane looks at him, fond and doomed. “Worth it.”

Ilya smiles.

The video should have died.

Everyone agrees on this in theory.

In practice, it lives.

Shane learns this when his phone buzzes again — not with a message, but with a reaction. Someone has replied to something he did not send.

He opens the team chat cautiously.

Immediately regrets it.

JJ: just want to clarify
JJ: was there LIME involved

Gilbert: important for tradition

Patrice: There will be no tradition

Roy:sounds like someone’s scared

Drew: We’re absolutely making this a thing

Shane locks his phone and presses it face-down against his thigh.

“I am never leaving this couch,” he announces.

Noelle hands him more wine. “Good. Sit in your shame.”

“This isn’t shame,” Shane mutters. “This is trauma.”

Ilya, seated beside him, tilts his head. “You are being dramatic.”

“You let them film me.”

“You looked heroic.”

“I LICKED SALT OFF YOU.”

Ilya considers. “Romantic.”

Shane splutters. “That is not—”

Rin appears in front of them again, phone in hand.

Shane points. “No.”

“I’m not recording,” she says innocently. “I’m showing.”

He squints. “Showing what.”

She turns the screen toward Ilya.

It’s the video — paused at the exact worst frame. Shane’s eyes half-lidded. His mouth open mid-regret. Ilya’s neck craned perfectly like this was planned.

Ilya hums. “The composition is good.”

Shane stares at him. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Yes.”

“That’s evil.”

“Only a little.”

Rin swipes.

There’s a reply beneath the video.

From Drew.

Drew: so is this like a team-building exercise
Drew: or do we have to earn it

Rin snorts. “He wants to know if he has to qualify.”

Shane buries his face in his hands. “Please make it stop.”

Noelle leans over the back of the couch. “You know what I love?”

Shane does not answer.

“That you didn’t hesitate,” she continues. “You didn’t even ask questions. You just—went for it.”

“That’s worse.”

“That’s commitment,” Tess says. “Green flag behavior.”

Shane peeks out. “I was peer pressured.”

“You could’ve said no,” Jackie points out mildly.

“I couldn’t,” Shane says. “Everyone was staring.”

Ilya places his glass down carefully. “They stare often.”

“That does not help.”

There’s a lull — not silence, but the softer kind of noise that comes after laughter has burned through its sharp edge. People sink back into cushions. Someone kicks off their shoes again even though they already did. The music lowers without anyone touching it.

Shane feels it then — the shift.

Not judgment. Not spectacle.

Just… inclusion.

He glances sideways at Ilya, who is relaxed in a way Shane rarely sees in public spaces. Shoulders loose. Eyes soft. No bracing.

“You okay?” Shane asks quietly.

Ilya looks at him. “Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Ilya repeats. “They are kind.”

Shane nods. Lets that settle.

His phone buzzes again.

He checks it.

Groans.

Hayden: so just to be clear
Hayden: if ilya ever brings tequila to a team dinner
Hayden: we’re running

Shane types back with zero hesitation.

Shane: cowards

Ilya reads over his shoulder.

“You defend me.”

“Always,” Shane says.

Ilya smiles — small, real, unmistakably pleased.

Shane's phone dings again.

A message waits.

From Drew.

Drew: for what it’s worth
Drew: we like you too

Shane smiles despite himself.

He slips the phone back into his pocket and reaches for Ilya’s hand.

“You’re a menace,” he says.

“Yes,” Ilya agrees easily.

Shane squeezes his fingers. “Worth it.”

Ilya hums.

Later—much later—when Shane is tipsy and warm and no longer pretending he’s not enjoying himself, Tess raises her glass.

“To Shane,” she says. “For surviving.”

“To Ilya,” Noelle adds. “For being exactly who we thought he was.”

“And Lily,” Rin says. “Who walked so Ilya could run.”

Shane laughs, lifting his glass last. “I regret everything.”

They drink.

Shane will absolutely never hear the end of this.

And somehow—surrounded by wine and noise and people who love the man he loves without question—he doesn’t mind at all.