Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau

Additional Tags:

Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Happily Ever After

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-09 Words: 2,637 Chapters: 1/1

Marleau Knows

Summary

In an alternate timeline, Boston plays in Montreal the night Ilya's father dies. Ilya overindulges at a bar under the watchful eye of Marleau and ends up ordering their cab to take him to "Jane's".

“Rozanov.”

“Marleau.” Cliff sat down at the bar, taking the stool next to Ilya and motioning to the bartender for another. “The team has an early flight,” Ilya said, not looking at Cliff but staring straight ahead at the bottles behind the bar, “you should be at the hotel.”

“Coach let me grab a later flight,” Cliff said as the bartender set a glass in front of him. He winced as he took a sip. He should have gotten something different than whatever Ilya was drinking.

“So I need babysitting?” Ilya finished what was in his glass and held it up to the bartender for more. The bartender filled the glass. Marleau gave the man a questioning look, and, after making sure Ilya wasn’t watching him, the bartender held up 5 fingers to Cliff.

“You’re telling me that, as captain, you wouldn’t stay for me?” Ilya’s jaw tightened at this statement, and he finally made eye contact with Cliff. Ilya had tears in his eyes but his face still seemed more angry than sad. Cliff had thought Ilya was doing so much better lately, but now he was worried about his friend. Ilya took a deep breath and another long sip of vodka.

“You may stay,” he said, facing forward again, “but no talking and do not waste that vodka.” Despite his mood he still managed a smirk as he saw Cliff wince again while taking a drink.

An hour later Ilya had his head down on the bar. He had been talking, although some of it was in Russian, and Cliff only knew passing phrases from his years around Ilya. Usually Ilya held his liquor better, but tonight he had overindulged. Not that Cliff blamed him. Ilya lifted his head, and Cliff saw him turning his phone on. Ilya stood up and walked unsteadily towards the front of the bar, leaving more than enough cash for the bill. Cliff followed him outside.

“I’ll get us a cab,” Cliff said, waving one down. Ilya looked up from his phone at him, as if surprised he was still there, and then grabbed the sides of the trash can nearby and hurled. Better now than in the cab, Cliff thought.

In the back of the cab Cliff started to tell the driver the address but Ilya leaned forward and said something to the driver. Whatever it was must have been in english because the cab driver started driving. “Where did he…?” Cliff was interrupted by Ilya patting his leg.

“You go to hotel, I will meet you in the morning,” Ilya closed his eyes and leaned against the cab door. His phone slipped out of his hand and onto the cab floor. Cliff picked it up and saw an unsent text to “Jane”.

I’m coming over. Need you.

Cliff rolled his eyes. Was this the girl Ilya was always blushing over on his phone? He had noticed Ilya’s mood shifts when they were in Montreal. He just figured Ilya was getting lucky. Hopefully it was more than that, though. Cliff looked at his watch. No girl was going to like getting woken up at 1 in the morning by a smashed Ilya.

Shane had waited up a considerable amount of time after the game but hadn’t heard from Ilya. It was alright, they had just seen each other that afternoon and he knew the team had an early flight. He just wished he had heard something from him. He went to sleep with what felt like a stone sitting in his gut. Until he was woken up by a pounding at his door. He threw on a t-shirt and hurried to the door.

“Hollander.”

“Marleau?” The hockey players stared at each other, each not knowing what to say next. Behind Cliff a cab honked.

“Is everything okay? Is Ilya…” Shane’s thoughts were racing. There was no way Marleau knew… unless something was very wrong. Maybe Ilya was hurt, or worse, maybe he…

“Shane!” Ilya stumbled out of the cab and up the sidewalk. Cliff sighed and looked at Shane apologetically.

“I didn’t know where he brought us. He’s having a bad night and I wanted to make sure,” Ilya pushed past Cliff and slammed into Shane, clinging to him. “Jesus.” Shane stumbled back a bit but held onto Ilya. He felt hot tears on his neck. He looked at Marleau, equally panicked over the compromising situation and wondering what was wrong with Ilya. “His dad died.” Cliff supplied.

“Fuck,” Shane wrapped his arms tighter around Ilya. It was too late to worry about what Marleau thought now. Behind them the cab honked again.

“I asked them to wait,” Cliff said, “I didn’t know…” Cliff still didn’t know. The Montreal captain was standing in front of him holding his captain. Hollander’s eyes held panic but also… defiance? As if daring Cliff to question the situation. Ilya’s father was dead and this is where he wanted to be. Cliff decided that the details weren’t important at the moment. “He’s got an 11 am flight. Is he good here? I can come back in the morning.” Ilya stirred and separated himself from Shane. He hugged Cliff.

“Moy brat,” Ilya said, “thank you, please go,” he stumbled past Shane into the house. “Come, moya lyubov’.” his speech was slurred but Cliff knew Ilya had called Cliff his brother, he had done so several times before. Usually while drunk. The second phrase he was also pretty sure he understood, though he wasn’t sure Hollander did.

Hollander looked frozen to the spot where he stood. He glanced back at the direction Ilya had gone and back to Marleau. “I…”

“Look, Hollander, Rozanov’s private life is private and he’s having a pretty rough night. Just tell me that he’s safe here and I will go about my business like this never happened.”

“He’s… yeah, I mean of course, but we’re not…” Cliff held a hand up to stop him.

“Go take care of him. I’ll come collect him tomorrow. Get his number off my phone if you need it.” Cliff walked back to the cab, suddenly wishing he had had a few more drinks this evening. When he closed the door behind him, a thought dawned on him and he started chuckling. “Jane…” he laughed to himself.

Shane walked into his home, wanting to be upset about the fact that Marleau now knows… there’s no way he doesn’t know, right? But the first thing he sees when he walks into his living room is Ilya on the couch, arm draped over his eyes. Shane lowered the lights.

“I’m sorry,” Ilya muttered from the couch.

“Shhh,” Shane hushed him. He grabbed a waste basket, a ginger ale, some crackers, and a wet cloth and joined Ilya on the couch. He set the waste basket nearby, the food and drink on the table, and had Ilya sit up long enough to sit down himself and let Ilya lay on his lap. Shane put the cool washcloth on Ilya’s head. Ilya began murmuring in Russian. Shane thought he heard the word “mama” and tears welled up in his eyes. He realized that everything he had just done was a reflex, it’s exactly what Shane’s mother would do when he was sick.

Shane set an alarm on his phone and set it on the coffee table. He stroked Ilya’s hair and murmured reassuring nonsense to him whenever he stirred. Ilya did wake up fully once and immediately got sick. Shane held him over the waste basket and rubbed his back. Iya’s eyes were moist with tears when he finally sat up again. Shane used the cloth to clean his face. Ilya blinked at him, as if realizing where he was and who he was with. Ilya wrapped his arms around him and they laid on the couch together, Shane holding Ilya with Ilya’s head buried in his chest. They fell asleep that way for a few hours.

Ilya woke before Shane’s alarm went off. He opened his eyes suddenly. He was warm. Someone’s arms were around him. He lifted his head gently. Shane. His head was pounding. The first night he had slept in Shane’s arms. They hadn’t even had sex. He didn’t think they had had sex. He didn’t even remember coming here. His father. Ilya’s eyes burned. He felt too dehydrated to even cry. He saw the crackers and ginger ale on the table and smiled. He cracked open the can and began carefully eating a few crackers and sipping on the soda.

At the crack of the can opening Shane’s eyes opened as well. He saw the outline of Ilya sitting up on the couch and a wave of concern crashed over him. Marleau knew. He would be back here in a couple of hours to take Ilya to the airport. Would Ilya make up some story for Marleau? Would he have the energy? Was Ilya okay? Ilya heard Shane stirring and reached over with one hand, gently stroking Shane’s hair.

“You look good in the morning,” Ilya said, meeting his gaze.

“So do you,” Shane said, not knowing what else to say.

“I look like shit.” He wasn’t wrong. “I am a mess, I am sorry for being a mess here.” Shane shook his head.

“I’m glad you came here. I want to be here for you.” Shane sat up next to Ilya, interlacing his fingers in front of him as he leaned forward, staring at the floor. He glanced up at the clock. “Marleau will probably be here in an hour or so to pick you up for your flight.” Ilya choked on the ginger ale.

“Marleau?” Ilya’s hazy memories sharpened a little bit. Marleau had been at the bar. In the cab. On Shane’s front steps? Shit. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to bring him here. I…” Ilya’s thoughts began to race. He had lost control. He had lost his father and he could lose Shane. But Shane had wrapped his arms around Ilya’s shoulders.

“I think Marleau is giving us a pass on this… due to the situation.” Shane said carefully.

“A pass?”

“I don’t think he’s going to ask questions if you don’t want him to.” Ilya sighed.

“I am a mess.”

“I have a shower.”

“Is that an invitation?” Ilya gave him a sly smile but Shane looked at Ilya warily.

“It would be if I weren’t 90% sure you might throw up on me.”

“Fair.” Ilya got up and stretched. Shane stood with him, still examining him with concern. Ilya turned and locked eyes with him. If he weren’t positive he was currently disgusting, he would devour this man right now. His stomach growled at him. Shane was right. He was in no shape to ruin Shane at the moment. “I’ll shower.” He said, more to himself than Shane. He kissed Shane on the forehead, who closed his eyes and rubbed his hands up and down Ilya’s shoulders. Ilya felt warm and safe. He wished he didn’t have to go to Russia. Maybe he would never go again after this.

Shane cleaned up the living room and pulled a water and gatorade out of the refrigerator along with a fresh bag of crackers. He put it all together in a bag and laughed at himself. He felt like he was packing a lunch for a kid. His heart dropped, remembering Ilya crying for his mother. When was the last time Ilya had been cared for?

Ilya came into the kitchen wrapped in a towel, hair still damp. He had his phone in his hand. “I let Marleau know I’m alive. Told him I would meet him at the airport. He has my things. I called a cab.” Shane slid a glass of water towards him followed by two aspirin. Ilya raised an eyebrow. “You take care of me.” Shane laughed.

“Don’t get used to it.” Ilya took the pills with the water, keeping his eyes on Shane the whole time. Setting the water down, he crossed the kitchen and crashed into Shane, kissing him with desperation, holding his face with both hands. Shane held Ilya's waist and let him devour him, letting small moans escape him as Ilya’s lips moved under his jawline and down his neck. Shane wanted to tell Ilya that he didn’t need this from him today, but he wasn’t sure that was true at this point. And, he thought, maybe Ilya needed this as badly as he did.

It was too late for the warning anyway. Ilya was suddenly on his knees in front of him, yanking his sweats down. Shane threaded his fingers into Ilya’s hair as Ilya took him into his mouth. Ilya reached around Shane and held the counter to steady himself. Shane let out a shaky breath and experimentally thrusted forward gently. Ilya grinned around him and gave a slight nod, casting his eyes upward at Shane. He wanted to give this man everything in this moment. Shane couldn’t believe how deep Ilya was taking him and began to hesitate but Ilya moved his hands to Shane’s hips and kept his rhythm going. Soon Shane couldn’t stop if he wanted to. He finished with an embarrassing cry and Ilya took it all.

Shane pulled Ilya up to kiss him and began to drop to his knees to return the favor. Ilya was too close, however. The closeness he felt with Shane was overwhelming him. Ilya grabbed Shane’s chin with one hand and pulled him back up to kiss him. He pulled Shane’s hand to his erection and they stroked it together, still kissing. Ilya began to gasp and moan Shane’s name so Shane moved to kissing his neck, finally kissing and biting his shoulder. Ilya finished, clinging to Shane and they both stood, panting, foreheads together. After kissing around Shane’s face once more time, light, adoring kisses, Ilya grabbed a paper towel, got it wet, and cleaned up Shane, then himself.

There was a honk from outside. The cab was here. Ilya began quickly getting dressed. Shane watched him, wondering if any of this had helped. Ilya looked around, making sure he had everything. He gave Shane a smile, despite desperately wanting to break down and ask Shane if he could stay here and not go to Russia. Maybe Shane could come with him. No. That was insane.

“Thank you.” He said, pulling Shane in for one more kiss.

“I didn’t really do anything. We didn’t…” Shane paused. “You’re welcome. Call me if you need to talk?” He handed Ilya the bag of snacks and hydration. Ilya stared at him. He didn’t deserve this man in any way. He pulled Shane’s hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles.

“Okay.” He left out the door and into the back of the cab. Shane watched him through the window, wondering how long before he’d hear from Ilya again.

At the airport, Marleau unloaded Ilya’s luggage. His flight was leaving an hour after Ilya’s so he would make sure Ilya made the first flight, at least. Maybe he could tell the airline staff not to give Rozanov any more vodka.

“Marleau!” Ilya stepped out of a cab. “Thank you.” Ilya grabbed his thing and tipped his driver and Marleau’s.

“How was it at Jane’s?” Marleau asked. Ilya studied his friend.

“It was helpful. Thank you for making sure I was taken care of.” Ilya did look… well, not great, Cliff thought, but better. He decided that Ilya would tell him more about his… friendship with Hollander when he felt like it.

“I’m glad you’ve got someone to talk to.” Ilya nodded. He was glad Marleau was not pressing the issue. He didn’t know how he would explain his relationship with Shane to his friend when he could barely explain it to himself.