Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

Gen

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander

Additional Tags:

Fluff, Drabble, POV Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Good Friend Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Injury, POV Multiple

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-02 Words: 3,322 Chapters: 1/1

It makes sense

Summary

Ilya gets hurt and Cliff is his emergency contact. When gathering up Ilya's personal things someone keeps calling his phone. Should he answer?

Or that time Cliff finds out who Jane really is.

Notes

This is my first posted fic in a really long time. :)

I kept wondering how Cliff would react to finding out about Shane and Ilya, so I decided to take a stab at writing my own version. There is no smut, just Cliff being a good bro. You get a little bit of Cliff, Ilya and Shane POV.

I have blended names from TV and Books to how I think of it in my head. I blame having watched the show first and then reading the books. So it's Raiders, Metros, Admirals. But Marlow is spelled book style.

Ilya leans forward for the face-off with Scott Hunter. The Boston crowd is quieting as they wait for the ref to drop the puck. Ilya takes this moment to stare at Hunter.

“How’s your back?” he asks.

A dark eyebrow raises in question. Ilya fights a smile. Scott Hunter never actively engages in his chirping, but he’s always listening.

“Too much bending over at your age. Bad for back,” Ilya says with a smirk.

Hunter huffs and rolls his eyes. “Real original, Rozanov.”

The puck drops and Ilya wins the face off. He’s pulling forward and dodges one of the defenseman, but in the corner of his eye he sees Vaughn on a collision course with him. He tries to pivot, and fails. The hit is hard.

Ilya is knocked off his feet and and his head cracks into the ice. He must fall funny because there is a white hot pain in his arm. He can barely focus as his ears are ringing and the bright lights are too bright all of a sudden. He doesn’t remember falling, but he’s definitely staring up at the arena lights now.

He can hear a scuffle happening around him. He recognizes Marlow and Vaughn’s voices. But he can’t make sense of the words.

Hunter can be heard clearly though. “Clear the way for the medics, assholes.”

Ilya tries to sit up, but it’s too late. Medics are swarming him. Anyway, sitting up was not a good idea. His head swims and his arm flares in pain again. He leans to the side and pukes on the ice. Marlow curses from right behind him.

“Mm fine,” Ilya says and tries to push up.

“I don’t think so, Roz,” Marlow says.

The medics seem to agree with Marlow. Ilya internally admits he’s probably done for the night. Concussion protocol kicks in the moment he puked. Plus, he thinks he hurt his arm. He’s hoping it’s just a sprain, but the sharp pain makes him think it’s fractured.

He can barely focus on the medics around him. They’re talking to him, but English is hard right now, especially with medical terms.

He can make out one of them asking for a stretcher. He shakes his head.

“I skate off,” he demands. He starts to move and they all scramble around him. With help, Ilya starts to get on his feet. Then the world goes sideways and his vision goes black.

 

---

 

Cliff Marlow watches as Ilya hits the ice for the second time. Luckily the dude manages to miss the puke on the ice. It’s not looking good for him. The A on Cliff’s chest gets his brain kicking into action.

He takes over the role of Captain in Ilya’s absence. Though he’s pretty sure he’s a poor substitute. It’s a home game, so it’s not too hard to maintain morale. The crowd helps plenty with that. Plus they’re in the lead 2-0 against the Admirals. Now he just needs to keep the lead.

The rest of the games goes quickly and Boston pulls away with a 3-1 win. The locker room feels empty without Roz. Not so much physically, but because the guy’s personality is so big it leaves a chasm in it’s absence.

Cliff checks in with the coach. No update on Roz. Then he goes and muddles his way through post-game pep talk, and dealing with the press. By the time he’s showered and changed he’s one of the last guys in the locker room. It’s the reason why he can hear the phone buzzing in Roz’s cubby.

He feels a little nosy going over to it and seeing who is calling, but then he remembers he needs to pack up Roz’s personal stuff anyway. Being two of the only single guys over twenty five on the team, and with no family in the area, Cliff and Ilya decided to be each other’s emergency contacts.

Cliff grabs the phone and the name Jane is on the screen. He hesitates picking up and it goes to voicemail before he can decide what to do. There seem to be a slew of text messages from Jane already. Must be the Montreal girl that Roz gets all quiet about.

He can see a few, even with the screen locked, since Roz has his push notifications on.

Just landed. Text me when your game is done.

Saw recaps. Are you okay?

Seriously please call me.

The phone rings again and Cliff nearly jumps out of his skin. Jane again. Shit, he doesn’t want her to worry. He also has no updates yet. He needs to get over to the hospital first. Well, he supposes that’s a sort of update.

He answers the phone.

“Hey, Jane. It’s Cliff Marlow, one of Roz- I mean Ilya’s teammates. The medics sent him to the hospital to get his head and arm checked. I’m heading there now and can give you an update in a bit.”

Silence. He pulls the phone away from his ear to make sure it hasn’t disconnected.

“You there?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” says a man’s voice quietly. A vaguely familiar voice, though he can’t quite place it.

“I take it Jane is a cover.” Cliff isn’t exactly surprised. Having been to enough clubs with Roz he picked up on the fact that his buddy seemed equally interested in men and women. Though he never talked about guys with him.

“Yeah,” says the voice on the other end of the call.

“Right,” Cliff circles in the empty room. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Look, I wish I had a better update for you. I imagine it’s stressful being in Montreal.”

Montreal. He can feel his brain try and place puzzle pieces together. Exhaustion and stress is making it hard.

Another beat of silence. “I landed in Boston a couple hours ago.”

Cliff looks at the wall where their schedule is mounted. They play Montreal tomorrow. Familiar voice. They’ve never talked directly all that often, but he always talks to the press for the Metros.

Shane Hollander.

Cliff’s eyebrows shoot up. Damn. Roz went and landed himself Shane fucking Hollander.

Cliff can’t help but smile. He’s simultaneously proud, annoyed, and surprised.

“Well, you can meet me at the hospital. We can check on Roz together. I’m his emergency contact so they’ll let me in.” He says fast and hopes he’s not overstepping. Clearly the two of them are a secret with a capital S.

There’s a huff of hesitation.

“If it’s any consolation, I know how to keep my big mouth shut,” he offers.

“Okay,” he says just as quietly and then he disconnects.

Cliff shakes his head and isn’t sure he’s going to believe this until he sees Hollander at the hospital.

Thirty minutes later Cliff is in the waiting area of the hospital. He’s still wearing his suit since he came straight here from the arena. He spots Hollander as he enters the lobby. The guy looks like a Reebok ad, wearing a hoodie with the hood up, sweatpants and sneakers. Well, a really tense Reebok ad. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, and his shoulders are tight.

Hollander sees him and freezes just for a moment. Then be beelines towards him and Cliff isn’t sure what to do. The guy looks hella nervous and Cliff worries he made a mistake inviting him here. He turns towards the elevators, having already gotten Roz’s room number. They admitted him for the night to monitor him.

Hollander quickly falls into step with him. Cliff presses the up button and they wait for the elevator.

“Hollander,” he says and can’t help the smile.

A sigh. “Marlow.”

Cliff smiles wider. He can’t help it. Man he’s going to lay-in to Roz once he’s feeling better.

The elevator dings and the door opens. Hollander ducks his head down as people exit the elevator. Cliff hits the button for the fifth floor, and is pleased when no one hops in with them. He eyes the dark haired guy next to him.

“So,” he says into the void of silence. “You two are together right? Not some weird secret friendship and I’m reading into shit?”

Hollander looks up at the ceiling like he’s wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. “Definitely not a secret friendship.”

“Well, shit.” Cliff says in genuine surprise. “Gotta say, my man Roz doesn’t settle for second best, huh?”

A hint of a smirk twists Hollander’s face and he blushes like crazy. Cliff claps him hard on the shoulder.

Hollander’s shoulders seem to relax a bit. “You’re not like - freaked out by this or anything?”

It’s a weird question. Though Cliff guesses being gay in the NHL and dating your arch-rival makes it tricky as hell. The NHL isn’t exactly the most diverse or open-minded league.

Cliff shrugs. “I’d be a bit surprised if you were a total dog. But this makes sense.” He says and motions in Hollander’s direction.

Hollander’s smiles a little and shakes his head. “I see why you two are friends.”

The doors open and Cliff lets out a little laugh. “What? Cause we’re both fucking hilarious and charming?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that,” Hollander says with just enough snark for Cliff to really start liking this guy. Hollander always comes off as a goodie two shoes in interviews. It’s nice to know Rozy isn’t dating some total wet blanket.

They silently make their way down the hall. Most rooms are dark, and the nurse’s station is quiet. Cliff is pretty sure official visiting hours are over, seeing as how it’s past midnight. But the receptionist said he could head up anyway. He supposes since he’s there as an emergency contact and Ilya came via ambulance they’re making an exception.

Once they find the room Cliff notices the light is still turned on and he can hear Roz talking to someone, probably a nurse.

“Mr. Rozanov, I’ve already told you five times. You are not allowed to watch television for twenty fours hours due to your concussion. You are allowed to sleep now.”

“How can I sleep? Need to find game recap.”

“I’m sure that can wait until tomorrow,” the nurse sounds sick of his shit.

Cliff motions for Hollander to wait outside. He steps in the door.

“Sorry for my friend, ma’am. Rozy, we won so chill out,” Cliff says with a smile.

Roz is propped up on a hospital bed, arm in a sling, and looking pretty much like his usual self, despite being a little paler than normal.

“Marley,” Roz says animatedly. “Never doubted it.”

“How’s he doing?” Cliff asks the nurse.

“Mr. Rozanov has a concussion and fractured arm. The cast goes on in a few days.” She says with a terse note to her voice. “He cannot watch tv or look at his phone for twenty four hours. He’s been cleared to sleep. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, but try and get him to rest.” She seems to know that’s a lost cause. Without another word she leaves the room.

“Making friends, I see.” Cliff says and perches on the side of the bed. “So, Roz…”

Ilya has that too big smile on his face, which means the pain killers are still the good stuff.

“Jane is with me,” he says carefully.

Ilya’s expression changes to something unreadable. “You lie.”

Cliff chuckles at that. “I do not lie.”

“You are a liar.”

“That’s fucking rich coming from you.” Cliff pulls Ilya’s phone out of his pocket. “You left this behind.”

Ilya eyes his phone. His stare becomes wary and guarded. “Where?”

Cliff isn’t sure if he’s asking about the phone or “Jane”.

“He’s in the hallway.” Cliff says more seriously. Then he can’t help it. “I’m glad you’re okay, Rozy. And I’m not mad about Hollander. Just wish you could have told me.”

Ilya’s expression softens and he looks towards the door. “I’m sorry, Cliff. I should have told you.”

“I’m not blind. I could see you checking out guys at the clubs. But I never took you for delusional.”

Roz’s eyebrows raise and he mostly hides his smirk. “Delusional?”

“Yeah. Hollander is way out of your league, buddy.”

Roz smiles wide and then goes fully dramatic, classic Ilya style. “No! See you are liar. I am out of his league.”

“You wish,” says Hollander from the doorway.

Cliff stands and moves so Hollander can take his spot. He opts for a bench seat under the window. Cliff pulls out his phone and checks his own messages to give them some sort of privacy.

“Gimme kiss,” Roz says to his man.

Cliff can tell from the corner of his eye that Hollander is shaking his head. Maybe he should wait in the hall.

Then Roz grabs Hollander’s hoodie with his good hand and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s sweet and quick. Clearly not a casual hookup, with the love-struck way Ilya looks at him. The two whisper to each other for a minute. Cliff focuses really hard on texting the coach to let him know Ilya’s okay, but going to be out for awhile due to his arm.

“So, you answered my phone?” Roz asks.

Cliff jerks and looks up. “Oh. Uh. Yeah” He stammers a little. “I know you always act like that Jane is no big thing, but clearly you were lying about it. And they kept texting and calling. They were freaking out cause you weren’t answering.”

“For the record,” Hollander pipes up, “I was not freaking out. I was just - ”

“You were totally freaking out,” Ilya cuts him off. “You have two modes. Calm. And freak out.”

“Fuck you,” Hollander says in the nicest way Cliff has ever heard anyone say fuck you.

“So this how you two flirt? Calling names and saying fuck you to each other?” Cliff jokes. “So the arch-rival thing is foreplay?”

Roz gives Hollander a wolfish smile, and the other guy blushes. Nice to know they both have it bad for each other.

“Probably. And Shane likes it when we sext before games.”

Hollander scoffs. “That’s all you. You’re concussed, don’t even know what you’re saying.”

Cliff smiles, watching the two of them banter back and forth. His eyes droop a bit. It’s late and the post game exhaustion is crashing into him. When he opens his eyes again Hollander is sitting in a reclining chair. The private room clearly setup for visitors to stay a while. He supposes having really good insurance helps.

“So how long you two been serious?” Cliff asks around a yawn.

Hollander looks over at Ilya. They’re apparently one of those couples that can have telepathic conversations. Fucking adorable.

Ilya answers. “Exclusive for almost a year. Serious for a bit longer.”

Cliff nods. Makes sense as Ilya has been missing from most outings all season. “That’s cool.”

“You don’t have problem, then?” Ilya asks him.

Cliff just shrugs. “Nah. It makes sense. The two of you I mean.”

Ilya seems surprised by his response. Cliff looks at them both. “What? You want me to have a problem.”

Hollander speaks up this time. “No. It’s just not the way it normally goes when we tell anyone. More shock and a million questions.”

“Let me get some sleep and I’ll come back with questions,” he says and lets his head rest against the window.

Cliff let’s his eyes close and knows he should head home, but he’s not sure he can make it that far. Sleep doesn’t so much a lull him, but slams him over the head like a sledgehammer.

 

---

 

Shane can’t sleep. He knows he won’t be able to sleep here. The hospital is full of unfamiliar sounds and lights and smells. He’s not the one injured, so no pain meds to fog his senses and make him sleepy. Ilya on the other hand is snoring happily.

They’re holding hands and every time Shane adjusts in his seat Ilya squeezes his hand. It makes him smile.

Poor Ilya. They are about halfway through the season, and he’s going to miss most of it with a fractured arm. At least if Boston makes it to post season he’ll be able to play in the playoffs.

More snoring, but this time it’s from Cliff Marlow. Shane is genuinely surprised about Cliff’s reaction, or lack of reaction. Shane had debated hanging up on the phone, but he had been desperate to know how serious Ilya’s injuries were. He’s glad he had pushed through, and also glad he forced himself to come to the hospital.

Cliff is Ilya’s closest friend in Boston. Shane’s glad he’ll have someone to talk to now for the rest of the season.

Shane looks at his phone and groans. It’s about three in the morning. He luckily doesn’t have morning practice, since it’s a late game. Still, he’s going to be exhausted.

The prospect of his game has less appeal knowing Ilya won’t be on the ice. Marlow wasn’t wrong about them enjoying the banter. Shane loves it when Ilya chirps at him followed by a knowing wink.

Ilya squeezes his hand again. “What are you thinking about?”

Shane looks over at him surprised. “Ilya. You should be sleeping.”

“I slept,” he says. Only Ilya could look so handsome in a hospital gown with major bed head. The crooked smile was endearing and Shane could feel his heart beat pick up just a notch. “You are the one who should sleep.”

“Can’t.” Is all he says. Then he looks over at Marlow. “Surprised he was cool about everything.”

Ilya makes a hmph noise next to him. “Why surprised? I have good taste in friends. Not like you.”

Shane smiles wide. “I have great taste in friends.”

“Hayden is not so good.”

“Will you leave Hayden alone?” Shane complains at his boyfriend. Hayden and Ilya can’t seem to let go of this grudge they have with one another. Hayden can’t seem to move past the façade Ilya puts on when playing. And Ilya can’t seem to be mature enough to stop needling him.

“Pike is a bit of an idiot,” a very drowsy Marlow says to the room.

“Not helping,” Shane says. “And here I thought we could be friends.”

A sleepy smile on the huge guy makes him look younger. “Gotta have my boy’s back.”

“Marley,” Ilya starts up, and Shane knows it’s nothing serious because he has that joking tone to his voice. “You have to stop Hollander from scoring tonight. He can’t beat me in the scoring race.”

“Yeah, how am I supposed to stop him from scoring in every other game?”

“Could hit him like last season?” Ilya jokes.

Shane is thoroughly scandalized. “Hey!”

“Haha, that’s messed up Roz,” Cliff chuckles low. “I could have ended your boyfriend and never known why you smothered me in my sleep.”

“I would not have smothered you,” Ilya continues this line of jesting. “I would have done it in a way so you knew why.”

Cliff belly laughs at that.

“You’re both weird.” Shane mutters to himself.

They chit chat a bit more until Ilya dozes off. Then Cliff is about to, but he looks over at Shane. He has a feeling Cliff is really looking at him for the first time.

“Let me know when you want to head out. I’ll go with you, make sure to run interference if needed.” He looks over at the snoring Ilya. “This is the one city I might be recognized as easily as you, so I can draw attention of any press downstairs.”

Shane is surprised by the offer. He decides he likes Cliff.

“Thanks. That means a lot,” he says earnestly.

Cliff just nods and then stretches out on the bench seat. Shane decides to try and sleep again. He’s not sure if it’ll happen, but he’s feeling more comfortable than he did earlier.