Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

M/M, Gen

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationships:

Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau & Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov & Svetlana Vetrova, Shane Hollander & Jackie Pike, Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)

Characters:

Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Ilya Rozanov, Original Female Character(s), Shane Hollander, Svetlana Vetrova, Yuna Hollander

Additional Tags:

Single Parent Ilya Rozanov, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Drabble Sequence, Good Friend Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Texting Fic, (in part), Good Friend Svetlana Vetrova, POV Multiple, locker room culture, Minor Hayden Pike/Jackie Pike, Hayden Pike Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Relationship Reveal

Language:

English

Collections:

2026-03: Sapphic Lightning

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-06 Completed: 2026-03-15 Words: 10,000 Chapters: 10/10

The Ilya Rozanov Guide to Building a Village

Summary

Wish babies don’t exist, but Ilya still somehow ends up with a kid – 9 months after winning the cup. And since he’s never been one to back down from a challenge, he’s determined to also win at parenthood… and along the way, realises that he has the village it takes to raise a kid right around him already.

Notes

This is not at all what I was supposed to write, but while thinking about the Sapphic Lightning Round of smubbles, I got struck by “The team jokes about Roz fucking his nanny, as if he’d risk his kid’s well-being like that” … and promptly wrote a fic’s worth of drabbles exploring the whole concept. The first chapter will be Cliff’s PoV, followed… I’m thinking Shane and then the OFC? Since this was supposed to be A Drabble™️, I am very much flying by the seat of my pants. I hope you’ll enjoy still!

Chapter 1: Cliff

“You know you could just… refuse. No one would fault you –”

A muscle in Roz’s jaw jumps, his lips twitching. Cliff abruptly ends his sentence right there.

“I mean – it’s kinda shitty of her to –”

“Shitty of her?” Roz raises both eyebrows and tilts his head forward, the picture of incredulity. “Is – is shitty of me to put her in this position!”

“Next time, use a condom,” Conny offers from Roz’s other side.

The same muscle jumps. “I do. I did.”

“And you’re sure you’re the father?”

“Yes. Did test. Is mine. So. I will take break for settling him.”

Roz ends up missing their road trip south – two wins, two losses – and while the org is sparse with details, speculation runs rampant. A family matter, the announcement had said, adding that the Raiders were recalling Gary Durmont from Providence.

Cliff tries not to read social media, as a rule, but Roz cannot right now, and so it’s kind of Cliff’s duty. There’s lots of wild guesses – the wildest probably Roz eloping with Hollander, like Hollander isn’t accounted for on the Metro’s Canadian swing – but nothing close to the truth.

At least Roz’ll get a laugh out of that rumour.

“Helllooo, did you miss me, assholes?”

“Swear jar,” Kaner yells, pointing at Roz’s stall. There is a jar there, lovingly decorated with strollers and hearts and diapers. Swear jar, a loopy, pink font proclaims, even though Roz hasn’t even told them the gender of his kid. Whatever, it’s just a colour.

Roz raises both eyebrows. “This is no,” he decrees, one hand pressed to his chest, “You do not want me coming back, so I guess I leave –”

“Noo,” Nosey moans. “We did miss you! Promise! So much.”

“Fine,” Roz allows. “But swearing allowed – unless you are suddenly babies, too?”

Roz holes up with his new kid for the entirety of the All Star break, refusing all invites to come out (understandably) and finagling for invites to his place (less understandably).

Finally, Cliff just shows up with some food (not meal-plan approved, but whatever) and a pack of diapers, because what do you even give a fresh single dad? If Roz turns him away, he can at least leave the offerings on his front step.

Roz doesn’t turn him away. He looks like he doesn’t have the energy.

“I’m coming in,” Cliff decrees, and that’s that.

Roz doesn’t even protest.

“You look like shit,” Cliff says as he pops food in the oven.

Roz’s place, usually immaculate, looks like a war zone. There is packaging everywhere, even on the couch, though Roz pushes it off so he can drop down onto it. He groans.

“You need a nanny, dude.” He isn’t sure what Roz did for the two games he played in before the break. Christ.

“Is hard.” Roz sounds pathetic. “How can I – has to be someone I trust. But…”

“Dude.” Cliff purses his lips. “Ask the WAGs. They’ll help you.” And they say Roz is the smart one.

Roz naps while Cliff piles up the cartonage and bubble wrap, putting protein shake bottles into the dishwasher and setting it to run. Cliff doesn’t have kids of his own, but enough guys have told them about the early weeks, and Cliff cannot imagine doing it on your own.

Trust Roz to be stupid about this, of all things. This, and the Montreal girl he claims he doesn’t have.

Which –

“Tell me this kid isn’t Jane’s,” Cliff says over food.

Roz blinks. Then he cracks up before sobering abruptly. “I have no Jane.”

“Not anymore, or…”

“He is not… Jane’s.”

Cliff may not be the most emotional guy, or the smartest, but he can get a job done. So he takes out the packaging of too many boxes while Roz disappears deeper into his flat, puts the other meals in the freezer, and squints at the instructions for building some kind of kid contraption that he can’t place. All the while, he valiantly ignores his curiosity.

He’s already invaded Roz’s personal space, he won’t invade his, like, bonding time with his kid either.

He cannot defeat the thing, however, so instead, he messages Kaner’s wife. It’s probably more useful, anyway.

“Marly?” Roz asks, his voice surprisingly soft.

Cliff whirls around, and – oh.

There’s a baby in Roz’s arms. Of course. It’s why Cliff ambushed him, after all. But it’s still… odd, to see Roz standing there, fully at ease with a tiny thing cradled to his arm.

Cliff is speechless.

“Tyoma, this is Cliff Marleau. He is idiot, but he is… my best friend.” Roz’s voice breaks on the term, his gaze trained on his kid. Damn, Roz.

“Marly, this is Artyom Rozanov.”

Artyom is tiny, though he’s lost the wrinkliness of a newborn. Cliff’s heart seizes.

“Hello, little one.”

Boston Raiders @RaidersMLH
Congrats to our newest roster addition – little Artem Rozanov. Can't wait for the draft of 2033!

[Picture Attached: Ilya, looking down at a bundle in his arms, wrapped securely in a Boston Raider's fleece blanket so only a tuft of hair is peeking out.]

> 🩷💜💙 Roz 💙💜🩷 @katanakatara

ROZ HAS A KID????

>> 🩷💜💙 Roz 💙💜🩷 @katanakatara

DEFINITELY did not have that on my bingo card...

>> Rock'n'Rozanov @raidersstan

Does he even have a gf???

>>> 'Is he goalie now?' @hollanovascotia

Hollanov Love Child real :D

>>> 🩷💜💙 Roz 💙💜🩷 @katanakatara

Maybe Vetrova??? Wtf...

two mins for slashing @heyitsLana

Dadanov will be the end of me #rip

Roz goes radio silent after the All Star Game is over, though he keeps Cliff updated with pictures that prove that he’s not dead yet, so Cliff lets him be. He even manages to build the contraption: a changing table, to which Cliff reacts with an appropriate number of hearts and party emojis.

Roz leaves him on read, which is probably fair.

When games resume, Roz is back, and he looks like he’s actually slept. “Thank you,” he tells Cliff. “I have found nanny.”

“Congrats,” Cliff says, and wonders if Roz will introduce the nanny of his own free will.

Chapter 2: Shane

Chapter Notes

Posting these as I go, still ignoring my ICE OUT commitments… which I probably should get to tonight :( anyway! on with a shift in perspective!

(I know that canonically, Shane and Ilya both were out with alternating injuries and stuff so they didn't both play in an ASG until 2017, but in this 'verse, they should have played the 2015 one… until something came up)

“Did you hear?” JJ wanders into the locker room with his phone in hand, seeking an audience.

“Hm?” Hayden asks.

“Rozanov isn’t going on their next road trip south.”

Despite himself, Shane’s head whips up, fingers stilling on his laces. What?

“Out because of a family matter.”

Shane’s heart stutters in his chest as he tries to figure out what he knows of Rozanov’s family. Almost nothing, actually, so this could be anything. An illness, a death… missing four games suggests a trip back to Russia, in any case.

You alright? he texts Rozanov.

He doesn’t get a reply.

Damn.

Halfway through the road trip Rozanov is missing, he withdraws from the All Star Game. For family reasons, the Raiders’ official statement says, which makes Shane’s stomach sink.

With disappointment, partly; they haven’t both made an ASG since their rookie season between injuries and last year’s Olympics. But also…

What would it take for him to miss that many games and the ASG?

Shane swallows heavily, and on impulse dials his dad on his way home, just to get an update on workplace gossip and Mom’s busy calendar. It doesn’t stop the churning in his stomach, but it lessens it.

“Private matter,” Rozanov says with a charming smile during his intermission interview his first game back, disinviting further questions about his absence.

Shane should be watching the Nashville vs. New Jersey game since they’ll be playing the latter next, but Boston is their biggest rival, so he’s spent most of his time on that broadcast (there’s no reason for him to watch the intermission interview, but the remote is too far away, so he gets stuck there).

Rozanov seems… fine. Tired, maybe, but he’s just come off two intense periods of hockey. He doesn’t seem sad.

What is going on?

Rozanov is still ignoring Shane.

No, that’s not entirely true – he does answer, with delays and short texts, which makes it trickier than if he weren’t answering at all. Innuendos fizzle out, ribbing gets a laughing emoji and nothing else, and Shane doesn’t know what to do.

It’s not his place – except he does worry, and if Rozanov is elusive over text and they’re not due to play each other for weeks…

He grabs his phone from the nightstand, opens his airline app, and doesn’t think about what he’s doing as he opens his return flight.

Time to catch Rozanov.

“Hollander.”

“You look like shit,” Shane says instead of something sane. It’s the truth, though. Rozanov looks rough; unshaven and with dark rings under his eyes and odd streaks of something on his bare chest that Shane would prefer not to think about.

Rozanov barks a laugh and runs a hand through his dishevelled hair. “You come all this way to insult me?”

“No, I –” Shane doesn’t have an explanation. He’s here because he couldn’t imagine not being here, because he has a week that he can do whatever he wants. “Can I come in?”

Rozanov sighs, but steps back.

The flat is unexpectedly tidy, at least compared to Rozanov’s state. It’s an open-plan, airy space, done up in yellow and grey – team colours, because of course that’s Rozanov’s colour scheme – but it’s littered with incongruous things: a soft square blanket with tiny hockey sticks on the floor, a violently pink bottle on the kitchen counter, a…

“Is that a baby stroller?” Shane asks, disbelief stark in his voice.

As if on cue, a baby starts wailing in another room.

“Nap time is over,” Rozanov says, like that explains everything, and disappears.

A baby. The family matter is a baby.

“You have a baby,” Shane says stupidly when Rozanov reappears, bouncing a tiny bundle in his arms.

Rozanov mutters something in Russian that is probably not flattering at all, but Shane finds it rather hard to care because – Ilya Rozanov has a baby. A child. Shane doesn’t mind babies – has grown quite fond of them by virtue of repeated exposure in the Pike household – but. Rozanov. With a baby.

It’s doing things to his body that he’d rather not examine for fear of embarrassing himself. But. Shit. What a view.

“Very astute,” Rozanov says to Shane. “Want to hold him?”

The baby is named Artem – pronounced Artyom – and he is adorable. He is also at most a month old, so tiny Shane’s heart seizes. An accident, Rozanov says, his face soft, but a good one.

Shane’s heart is still doing funny things as he holds Artem and watches Rozanov prepare the bottle, which only gets worse when Rozanov hands the bottle over. “Be useful,” Rozanov says like he’s not placing a huge amount of trust in Shane. “Maybe change him if you feel adventurous. I will go shower.”

Shane watches Artem feed and knows he would already die for him.

“You need a nanny,” Shane says as he slips Artem back into a fresh onesie. He never expected the practice he’s gotten with the Pikes to come in handy like that, but here he is.

“I cannot get Shane Hollander as live-in nanny?” Rozanov leers at him. His curls are dripping water down his bare chest, but he looks infinitely more put-together already.

Shane snorts. “I still have a few years of hockey left.”

Rozanov’s nostrils flare, and Shane braces himself for another joke. Instead, Rozanov says, “Is tricky. He is… special.”

“Let’s look together.”

To Shane’s surprise, Rozanov accepts.

A teammate has set up Rozanov with a nanny agency, and he plugs his laptop into the TV so Shane can watch the online interview without the prospective nannies seeing his face.

“I’ll just watch,” he promises, almost offended with Rozanov snorts.

It doesn’t take long for him to burst with opinions. She spoke about boys weird, he jots down. The next one has a dismissive opinion of hockey that rubs him wrong. The third seems too stern. They take a break, and Rozanov… seems oddly grateful for Shane’s commentary.

“We’ll find someone,” Shane promises, and this one, he’ll keep.

Chapter 3: Svetlana

Chapter Notes

Next chapter should be Cliff!PoV :D I cannot promise it will come tomorrow, because I’m back to work tomorrow and ten drabbles is still a thousand words, but I did stop during my bike ride today to voice note part of the next drabble to myself, so we will see :D

But now on to Svetlana’s PoV!

“Sveta – I – fuck.”

“Ilyusha,” Svetlana says in her most judgemental voice, because over the years, she’s received her fair share of distraught calls from her best friend. By now, she knows how to snap him out of it. “Have you taken a breath?”

He follows the implicit order, heaves in gasping breath, exhales, takes in another one. She gives him a moment.

“Okay, what’s burning?”

“I – fuck. Fuck.” He swears in Russian, for once, which he doesn’t usually. Oh dear. “I’m a father. And the girl wanted to give up the child for adoption.”

“… I’ll be on the next flight.”

Svetlana doesn’t particularly like babies. It’s not that she hates them; she just has no particular desire to spend time with them. Some days, she feels like she’s still on the cusp of breaking free from her father’s legacy, making a name for herself. Attaching herself to another man, becoming a mother before she’s a person… it sounds like hell.

So, no. She doesn’t particularly like babies. But she loves Ilya, and so she reschedules her showings and calls in a favour or two for the ones she can’t move, and makes her way the airport.

Ilya better appreciate her.

When Svetlana gets to Ilya’s apartment, she’s greeted by the pitiful wailing of a tiny baby. Oh dear.

It’s self-preservation that makes her pop her earplugs in before she ventures towards where Ilya is pacing in his living room, looking like he’s seconds away from joining his tiny charge. Oh dear indeed.

“Sveta,” he says, like she’s his salvation, like she’s his last hope. She probably is.

“Ilyusha.” She’s used her flight from LA to here to read up on caring for a newborn, so she’s at least not fully out of her depth. For Ilya, she’ll even do this.

Between the two of them, they manage to get Ilya back from the brink of a nervous breakdown. Ilya teaches her how to change a diaper, how to burp the tiny worm, and Svetlana still doesn’t like babies, but she can see why other people would, because when tiny Artem gurgles in contentment, she feels a primal sort of satisfaction. She kind of hates it.

But this isn’t about her. This is about Ilya, and getting him back on the ice before he goes stir crazy.

“We’ll be fine for an evening,” Svetlana promises him.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.”

They are fine for the evening. Tyoma is a little upset about his father’s absence at first, but Svetlana has enough experience with him that he settles once she puts on the game to watch Ilya.

“You’re a good hockey baby,” she murmurs, and Tyoma gurgles like he understands her.

Ilya, of course, laughs when she tells him, and promptly tries it out with another game the next evening.

“Look, Metros hockey is the perfect sleeping aid.”

Svetlana raises one eyebrow. Sure, chirping is the only reason he put on that game. She doesn’t call him out on it, though.

Svetlana has to go back to LA for a couple of days over the All Star Game, but at least she’s reasonably sure they’ll survive on their own.

“Thank you so much,” Ilya murmurs into her hair as he sinks into her. He once again desperately needs a shower, smelling like baby formula and baby powder and old sweat, but he is solid and strong. She loves him.

“You’d do the same for me.”

“You wouldn’t be so stupid to get into this position.”

“You’re not stupid.” Not with him accepting the responsibility. “See you in a couple of days.”

When Svetlana returns, there is warm laughter in the kitchen. She stills in the entryway and listens – Ilya’s accented voice, alternating with a softer but definitely male voice.

Her heart ratchets up a notch. It can’t be – or is it?

She tiptoes into the flat, stopping in the doorway to the kitchen. It is. Shane Hollander, in the flesh, wearing a Boston Raiders’ tee and laughing. Her hands itch for a picture, but that way lies pure risk, so she just looks.

Ilya spots her first. “Uh –” Besides him, Hollander freezes.

Svetlana smiles and crosses over. “So we finally meet.”

Hollander is terribly, horribly awkward. He’s clearly torn, part of him jealous and possessive, but at the same time shrinking back from Ilya’s space. Like the fact that he’s here, wearing a Raiders’ tee, tracking Ilya whenever he forgets himself, isn’t telling enough.

It all results in him being stiffly polite, a compacted mess ready to burst. Svetlana shares a commiserating glance with Ilya over dinner, which makes Hollander lose track of his sentence.

She gets her chance when Ilya checks on Tyoma, leaving her alone with Hollander.

“Relax.” She smiles. “I have no interest in being a parent, … Jane.”

“What?” Hollander squeaks. God, he’s adorable.

“You can relax,” Svetlana repeats. “I’m not about to take your man from you.”

“He’s not my – man.”

Svetlana raises her eyebrows. “Because you don’t want him to, or because you’re both being idiots about it? Because if it’s the former, you need to leave now.”

“I – no, I – I don’t know a Jane,” Hollander stutters.

“Tch. I’m not stupid. A Montreal lover he’s secretive about? You, being here, now? Jane Hollander?”

Hollander’s gaze drops. He shrugs.

“Ilyusha cannot be stupid now anymore. So. Do not hurt him.”

“I… wouldn’t.” And this, Hollander means.

When Ilya returns, Hollander snags him by the waist. Ilya looks down at him, surprised but happy, and Hollander smiles up at him with a soft expression that makes Svetlana want to gag.

“You could have told me Svetlana knows.” Hollander’s gaze flicks to her, smiling again. Settles. Atta boy.

“She knows what?” Ilya, idiot that he is, asks.

“About… us?”

“She… Sveta?”

Svetlana gives him an unimpressed look. “You are not subtle. And even if your… reactions to the Metros had been subtle, the two of you here are not.” She shakes her head. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Chapter 4: Cliff

Chapter Notes

Guess who should have been in bed an hour ago :D ah well, worth it (since I added around 1400 words to my ICE OUT fill, I didn’t even procrastinate on that!)

I am estimating maybe two more chapters in this – possibly Shane again to see a little of how Ilya is coping with fatherhood, and then an OFC perspective.

Warning for mention of locker room culture (implied) and one drabble that talks about consent

Roz returns from the All Star break looking like he’s actually slept two nights in a row, and utterly glued to his phone.

“Do we need a special stick with a phone inlet?” Conny jokes.

“Fuck you,” Roz says without looking away from the screen. “You would not understand.”

“That you’re absolutely gone on your kid? Man, don’t need a degree or any equipment to see that – we have eyes.”

“It used to be nudes that made him look like that.” Kaner shakes his head. “Now it’s probably baby pics.”

“Fuck off,” Roz says, but he doesn’t refute the statement.

“Is the nanny, like, sending you a live feed?” Cliff raises an eyebrow at Roz and looks pointedly at his screen.

Roz shuts the phone off immediately.

“Or is the nanny sending him a live feed?” Lundy waggles his eyebrows.

“Fuck off.”

“What? You didn’t pick a cute nanny?” Another waggle. “Don’t tell us you aren’t fucking the nanny.”

Roz scowls. “I would never. She is Tyoma’s caretaker, I would not risk him. Also – she is a lesbian.”

“If anyone could turn a lesbian straight, it’d be you.”

“Insensitivity jar. Now” Roz points at the swear jar, and doesn’t relent.

“So,” Cliff says as casually as he can once they’re in their usual seats on the flight to Dallas. It’s Roz’s first road trip since he acquired his kid, and he’s – understandably – on edge.

“Hm?” Roz’s phone dings with a new picture.

Cliff waits until he’s hearted it before continuing. “Your nanny is… queer?”

“She is lesbian. I said so.” Roz looks up at him, expression hard and eyes serious for once. “Problem?”

Cliff swallows. “No. Just…”

Roz raises an eyebrow.

“My sister. She’s also a lesbian.”

At once, Roz’s face lights up. “Oooh! Should we introduce them?”

… oh, Roz.

There isn’t actually a straight-forward way for Roz to introduce the nanny to the team. Either, he’s home with his kid, or she is, and so it’s once again up to Cliff to take things into his own hands.

“I’m coming home with you,” he tells Roz, already next to the passenger’s side of Roz’s sports car. He knows better than to lean against it by now.

Roz raises both eyebrows. “I do not sleep with teammates, sorry,” he says. Easy. Smirking. Not like a typical homophobic joke.

Cliff rolls his eyes. “Neither do I. I wanna meet the nanny.”

“You cannot sleep with her, either,” Roz says as he’s picking his way through the Boston streets, surprisingly careful for him. Who would have thought that fatherhood would affect Roz like this? “I will not lose her because my teammates are dicks.”

“Didn’t you say she was a lesbian?”

“Not all players know what is no.”

“Roz –”

“No, sorry. That was… too much. I worry. Other guys… they are not who I want around her. They do not take no seriously, too often.”

“Anything that’s not a yes is a no,” Cliff says.

Roz nods approvingly. “You can meet her.”

“Nadia!” Roz calls out the moment they step through the door, adding something in Russian.

A few moments later, a young woman skids around the corner. She… doesn’t look at all like a nanny, is Cliff’s first thought. She is compact, with a wide smile and dark freckles on light brown skin, and sporting a side-cut in violent blue.

“Cliff, this is Nadezhda. Nadia, this is Cliff. My best friend.”

“Call me Blue,” Blue says, holding her hand out. Her shake is dry and firm.

“That should be a crime,” Cliff says before he can stop. “We’re in Raiders territory.”

Roz heaves a sigh as he shepherds them all into the flat proper. “I am so sorry,” he tells Blue, “he is hockey player; took too many pucks to the head.”

Blue laughs. “I’m used to it – I was a roller derby gal until I fucked up my knee.”

Her language isn’t much nanny-like either.

But when Artem starts crying and Blue goes to pick him up, Cliff can see why Roz chose her: even he with his untrained eye can see that she handles Artem with an ease Cliff can only marvel at, and she’s not afraid of Roz.

It’s Roz who goes when Artem needs a diaper change, which gives Cliff a moment alone with Blue.

“So you wanted to meet me?” She arches one eyebrow.

Cliff shrugs. “Yeah. Roz mentioned – my sister’s gay,” he blurts out instead of something sensible.

Her second eyebrow joins her first, which is when Cliff realises how that sounded.

“Not – I mean. I… I’d been meaning to tell him. Didn’t know how he’d take it. This… I always wanted to believe he was the right sort, but…”

“Hockey players,” Blue finishes. She smiles. “No, yeah. He’s definitely the right sort. Trust me.”

“What is your sister’s number?” Roz asks. Because he’s an asshole, he of course does it in full earshot of several teammates.

Once the instant ribbing has died off, Cliff rolls his eyes. “I did tell you she’s not interested in guys.”

Roz rolls his eyes right back, twice as theatrical. “Yes, we have previously established this.”

“Then what do you want?” Cliff asks warily.

Roz heaves a sigh. “I have Tyoma for the weekend. Nadia is free to go out.” Keep up, Roz’s voice says.

“You can’t just – set them up.”

“Can, too. What is wrong with one date?”

It takes surprisingly little to get Aline on board.

“A cute girl, you say?” She grins at Cliff, FaceTiming him from her fancy office. Cliff still doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve a sister like her. “Sure, why not. Worst case, I’ll try a new coffee shop.”

“You haven’t even seen her yet!”

“And? Also, you may have atrocious taste in girlfriends, but I have yet to disagree with you on who’s cute.”

That is probably a fair assessment, so Cliff just does the minimum denial he has to as an older brother, and asks about her next meeting.

Chapter 5: Jackie

Chapter Notes

Did I claim the next one would be Shane again? Well, I was wrong, because I started scribbling at work another PoV entirely :D I still want to do the Shane!PoV, and definitely the nanny!PoV, but we’ll see. 10x100 words is very much doable, thankfully, so the next chapter is tomorrow!xia’s problem (I forgot how much fun Just Going For It can be).

Now on to one of my fave tropes – the Pikes Find Out :D

“He cancelled on us,” Hayden says, a little stunned when he comes home.

“What?”

“Shane – he cancelled. The break plans.”

This gets Jackie’s attention. She shifts her hold on Ruby. “Shane. Our Shane. Cancelled plans we’ve had for months.”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, even Ruby is silent. “Did he… say anything?”

Hayden shakes his head and drops his bag by the door. “Just – that something came up. A family thing. But not his parents.”

“A family thing?” Jackie repeats. To her knowledge, Shane doesn’t really have contact with his extended family.

“I don’t know. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

Two days later, Shane texts Jackie: Do you have any books on newborns you’d recommend?

Jackie stares at the text, and then calls him back.

Shane answers immediately. “Jackie!”

“So it really is you.”

“Did you think it wasn’t?”

“I was… surprised by your question.”

“Oh,” Shane says. “I… was just curious. Nothing serious. Just –”

“I do have a few books,” Jackie cuts him off before he can stammer more. Sometimes, he’s a decent liar. This is not such an instance. “I can give them to Hayden.”

“Uh, maybe – I can pick them up later this week.”

“I’ll make dinner.”

The kitchen is silent as Jackie and Hayden clean up once the girls are in bed and Shane has left for the night. The cleaner would do it tomorrow, but sometimes, it’s helpful to do these menial tasks, and loading the dishwasher is far from an ordeal.

“Do you think,” Hayden finally starts, “that he knocked someone up? Boston Lily maybe?”

“Boston Lily?”

“Yeah, the chick he claims he isn’t seeing.” Hayden shakes his head. “If you ask me, he’s totally gone on her.”

“It feels impossible…”

“… but so does every other explanation,” Hayden finishes.

What is going on, Shane?

Shane goes radio silent for the duration of the All Star break, though when he returns, there is a looseness to his shoulders that Jackie hasn’t seen in a while.

And then, a day later, the Raiders announce that the reason their star centre missed their roadie and the ASG is that he’s become a father.

“Fucking Rozanov.” Hayden shakes his head. “Can’t believe any woman would settle down with that asshole.”

“Hm,” Jackie says, still staring at the tweets. Boston Lily. Ilya Rozanov. It’s absolutely ludicrous, but –

Shane asked for the books between the Raiders’ roadie and the ASG.

Jackie doesn’t even have to pull any strings. Hayden does it all on his own, because the fact that Rozanov has a kid has apparently broken his brain.

“So,” he says over dinner the next day, once again with Shane, “is Rozanov doing it all by himself for real?”

“Nah,” Shane says absentmindedly, thumbs flying over his phone, “he has a nanny.”

Does he now? Jackie thinks.

Hayden snorts. “Couldn’t find a girlfriend any other way?”

Shane stiffens, eyes skittering from Hayden to Jackie and then safely to Jade. “That’s not what the gossip sites say,” he says bitterly.

Interesting.

“You sounded certain when you said Rozanov had a nanny,” Jackie says neutrally when Shane helps her clear the table while Hayden entertains the girls. “I didn’t know you two talked.”

“Oh.” Shane stills briefly, a jarring moment before his normal movement resumes. “Uh, just – word travels.”

Jackie has heard a lot of gossipy questions, but nothing definitive out of Boston, so she rather doubts that. After all, she’s pretty certainly more tuned into the grapevine than Shane Hollander.

“Does it now?” Jackie asks, but Shane goes small and tense, and so she changes the topic to something more benign.

“Did he actually knock up Boston Lily?” Hayden asks after Jackie’s wordlessly presented Shane with a few more books on babies near Artem Rozanov’s age.

“Uh,” Jackie says. “No, he didn’t.” It’s the wrong thing to say. Damn.

Hayden squints at her. “Did he… tell you?”

“No.” Jackie’s never lied to her husband, and she’s not about to start now. “It’s… no.”

Hayden looks at her. Really looks, because he can be a little dumb sometimes, but he is smart, when he puts his mind to it.

She sees when the penny drops.

“Fuck, no,” he whispers. “Rozanov? Please, no.”

Hayden has a meltdown about it. Of course he does. But at least he has it on an off-day, where he can rant at Jackie – she does point out that it’s not confirmed, but it all fits a little too well between game schedules and Artem Rozanov’s arrival – and complain about Shane’s breach of his trust in private, instead of hurling things he won’t mean come morning at Shane himself.

True enough, after sleeping, Hayden sighs. “Were there no nice men in Montreal?” he asks wearily.

Jackie raises an eyebrow. “Who says he wants nice?”

“Jacks!”

“What? I’m just saying!”

“Bro, I love you,” Hayden says, which is how Jackie knows it’s gonna be either a shitshow or amazing. She casually pockets Shane’s car keys, just in case. “But I gotta ask – did you get baby trapped?”

“Kwah–?” Shane squawks and starts coughing, because of course he’d just taken a sip of water.

Hayden helpfully stops him from choking.

“What?”

Hayden crosses his arms. “Rozanov. Did he baby trap you?”

“What?” Shane asks again, voice an octave too high and cheeks flushing violently red.

“Hayden…” Jackie shakes her head. “Your Boston… person; it’s Rozanov, isn’t it?”

Shane starts coughing again.

“He can’t be all bad,” Hayden allows, once Shane is breathing normally again and has been convinced that he does not need to flee. “I mean – he’s stepping up, it looks like.”

“Yeah,” Shane says, and he’s avoiding their eyes but his face is soft. “He – he’s a good dad. And, just for the record, his nanny’s a lesbian. She’s very cool.”

Hayden snorts. “A gay dad and a lesbian mom so the kid’ll turn out right?”

“Ilya’s bisexual,” Shane says like it’s not a monumental thing to hear from him. First name. Bisexual. “And I liked her, too.”

Huh.

Chapter 6: Yuna

Chapter Notes

… at this rate, your guess whether we’ll ever get another Shane chapter is as good as mine

I still only have the vaguest of plans, but I’m thinking of aiming for a nice-and-round 10k. 10 x 10 x 100 words 🥰 (can you tell I very much love clean word counts?)

When Yuna hears that Ilya Rozanov has acquired a child, she doesn’t think much of it. It’s Rozanov; she keeps up with his career the way she does with most athletes in the league: casual, curious, but dispassionate. He is Shane’s biggest rival, though, so when she sees the tweet, she mostly thinks, another thing he beat Shane at, and then, of course Rozanov would be irresponsible enough to have a kid before a confirmed girlfriend.

She certainly doesn’t expect to hold little Artem Rozanov in her arms within the year.

But, well. This is jumping the gun a little.

“You’re not with the Pikes?” Yuna feels her eyebrows climb, and she gives Dave a confused but reassuring smile. Shane sounds harried on the other end of the phone, but he’s still talking, so he’s definitely not freaking out.

In the background of the call, a baby starts crying, and someone else – a male voice Yuna can’t make out – says something.

“I’m helping… a friend,” Shane says, a moment too late. “Sorry, it was – a short-notice thing. I’ll be back in Montreal after break.”

“Where are you now?”

Shane is quiet for another beat too long. “Boston,” he says.

Huh.

Yuna knows Shane’s calendar like the back of her hand. Still, she double-checks it. He’s input his flights – from Columbus to Boston after the end of the All Star Weekend, and back from Boston that Friday. If he booked a hotel, it’s not in his calendar. Neither are any sponsor opportunities.

Yuna closes the calendar. “Did you know Shane had close friends in Boston?”

Dave exhales. “He’ll share when he’s ready,” he says, which is a no.

Yuna purses her lips. It’s not like Shane. But he hadn’t sounded unsafe, so… Dave is right. Shane will share when he’s ready.

Yuna doesn’t mean to snoop. She really doesn’t. Shane shares his calendar with her, and she’s aware it’s a privilege.

But when she’s looking for his dish towels, he waves her off and points in the direction of his laundry, and that’s a go look yourself.

So she does.

And to his credit, she does find the dish towels where he said they’d be. She also finds…

“This is a Metros onesie.” Yuna hates stating the obvious.

Shane freezes in the doorway.

“I wasn’t aware any of the WAGs were expecting.”

“It’s not for…,” Shane starts, “it’s… for a friend.”

“Shane,” Yuna says when the silence stretches, “you… didn’t have an accident, did you?”

Shane rears back. “No!” he says, almost too quick. “No, I – no.”

“Don’t be like Rozanov.”

This time, Shane flinches.

“Shane?”

His jaw works for a moment, then his gaze drops. If he’d just moved on, she’d have forgotten about this. Like this… She doesn’t dare open her mouth, unsure of what would come out.

“You weren’t meant to find this,” Shane says. It’s not an answer.

“Is this for…?”

For a moment, Shane is very still. Then he squares his shoulders. “Yes. It’s for Artem.”

Artem. She’d read the name, a little curious, and then forgotten all about it. And here Shane is, the name falling from his lips like it belongs there. She looks at the Metros onesie. Back at Shane. Dave is very silent next to her.

“I can’t see Rozanov putting his kid in… that.” Isn’t it a waste of money? she doesn’t say.

Shane snorts. “Of course not. But it’s –” he cuts himself off, like he’s suddenly remembering who he’s talking to.

“It’s?” Yuna prompts.

Shane swallows. “Bright colours are good for babies.”

“And Rozanov… will go along?”

Shane shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Look,” Shane says later while they’re preparing the salad for dinner, just the two of them like they used to. This, Dave allowed them to do. “I… I think I’m gay.” It comes out all in a rush, Shane’s shoulders tight like he’s worried.

Oh. Oh, Shane.

She doesn’t think about why he’d tell them that now, after they talked about the onesie he’s acquired for Rozanov’s offspring, whose mother has evaded media attention so far.

“Thank you for trusting me with this, honey.” Yuna dries her hands and pulls Shane into her arms. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“So… this revelation…” Dave pauses to take his next bite.

Next to Yuna, Shane goes tense.

“It has nothing to do with… your sudden trip to Boston?”

Shane’s hands sink and his gaze drops. He doesn’t even have to say anything; this is admission enough.

Oh. Oh, Shane.

“And the baby…?”

“He’s very cute,” Shane says immediately, and then flushes. “A – post-Cup-win accident.” He shrugs, discomfort radiating off him. “It’s… I don’t know what we are.” Now, he looks up, face suddenly set though his cheeks are still violently red. “But I know what I want us to be. Together.”

It’s not even a question: the next time Boston hosts Montreal, Yuna organises a short trip that gets all of them, including Shane, in a couple of days early.

“Family trip,” she says pointedly, and Shane uses that to bow out of the optional practice the day before the team flies out.

He’s nervous. But he still packs that onesie, and Yuna cannot wait to see how Rozanov – Ilya; she’ll have to call him Ilya – will react.

“You did warn him?”

Shane rolls his eyes. “Yes, mom. And dissuaded him from picking us up at the airport.”

“Good.”

Shane smiles.

Yuna’s loved every second of Shane growing up. But holding little Artem Rozanov in her arms while Dave leans against her shoulder and Ilya and Shane are squabbling over the Metros onesie with the ease of partners, she remembers how much she loved this stage.

How she’d, deep-down, believed she wouldn’t get this from Shane, because even before he’d come out, she somehow hadn’t been able to imagine Shane making them grandparents.

And now here she is, with a baby who appears to be on the way to becoming her grandson.

“So. You’ll come visit us this summer?”

Ilya grins.

Chapter 7: Shane

Chapter Notes

I did not think there would be another chapter here today, but here we are!

Fluffier than I usually post, maybe, but I hope you all like it :)

I’m behind on comments again, but please know I cherish every single one and will get around to them 💛💛

“You what?” Ilya hisses, eyes wide and face pale. If it wasn’t for Tyoma, cradled in his arms, Shane is sure he’d be yelling.

“I told them I’m gay,” Shane repeats and pushes his glasses up his nose. It’s a testament to Ilya’s shock that he stays focused. “And that – Tyoma –” Shane doesn’t know how to finish the sentence, suddenly. They haven’t talked about this. Svetlana threatened, and Ilya took his opinion into account about the nanny, but – they haven’t talked about them. He wasn’t lying to his mom about it.

“And now she wants to meet him.”

“Well, yes.”

“What did you tell them about – us?” Ilya asks later, his phone propped up so Shane can still see Tyoma as well as Ilya’s face. It’s a far cry from being face-to-face, but it has to do.

“Shouldn’t we have this conversation in person?”

“Next time we see each other, your parents are there. You want this conversation then?”

Shane swallows. “No.”

“Tyoma loves you.”

“And I love him,” Shane says easily. “And… you, if you’ll let me.”

“Shane,” Ilya says. Softly. Helplessly. Shane has to close his eyes. “I love you, too. You could not stop me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

The terrible thing about having said that while in different countries is that they can’t even fuck about it. Well, they probably couldn’t if Shane were in Boston, either, but right then, the inability to put his mouth on Ilya is a physical ache.

“Soon,” Ilya promises him when Shane cups himself and whines. His eyes are dark, but he still has Tyoma cradled to his chest, which is both insanely hot and a deterrent to following through. “Tyoma can have grandma time, and I’ll have you.”

Shane whines again. “Please put him in his cot.”

Ilya scrambles to comply.

“Does this turn you on?” Ilya places the baby monitor on the bedside table and sprawls back onto the bed. “Being a family?”

“Ilya,” Shane gasps, and he should be embarrassed but he is, in fact, too turned on to care right then. He’d never actively wanted kids, but right then, the thought of having a kid with Ilya… his cock jerks against his palm.

“Touch yourself,” Ilya commands. “Let me see how much you want this. To be a father.”

And Shane does want it. He wants it so much it clearly makes him stupid.

Ilya loves every moment.

“You know Mama Hollander can come down without you,” Ilya says casually while they’re on FaceTime as Tyoma suckles on his bottle. There’s something calming about it, mesmerising, so it takes Shane a moment to parse Ilya’s words.

“Ilya!”

“What? Is truth! I host her. Host both your parents, but Papa Hollander works, yes?”

“They have actual names.” It’s easier than admitting how Shane’s heart is racing at the suggestion. “And I wouldn’t let them meet you alone for the first time. I want them to like you.”

“Hey,” Ilya protests. “They will love me.”

“You’re still a Raider!”

“Sorry?”

“But is not…” Ilya trails off, teeth digging into this lips.

Shane’s attention fully snaps to the tiny screen. “Hm?”

“You do not want them not to meet me because you think I… am bad father?”

“What?” Shane’s jaw drops, his brows knitting together. “Where the fuck is that coming from?”

Ilya shrugs, eyes averted. “I leave Tyoma with Nadia. No mother, often no father… am I selfish keeping him?”

“What the fuck, Ilya?! You love that boy, and he’ll grow up knowing that, and you picked Nadia because you trust her. You’re doing right by him.”

“Sometimes, I wonder.”

Ilya is still a little melancholic over the next few days, and nothing that Shane does can draw him out of it. He’s moments away from flying down there, practice be damned, but in the end, it’s Svetlana who talks him out of it.

“It’s a hard time right now,” she says while Ilya is looking after Tyoma, leaving his phone with her. “We are managing, but you would hate yourself for missing games. Don’t do this to him.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“He would hate it. Let him pretend things are normal, and keep calling.”

“Always.” It’s not like it’s hardship.

Shane cannot keep his legs still for the entirety of the flight. His mother looks at him, a small smile on her face, and pats his leg. “From everything you’ve said, we will love him.”

“Of course,” Shane says. His leg stills for half a minute. Then he remembers that they’re on their way to meet Ilya.

It’ll be the first time they’ll see each other since confessing. With Shane’s parents in tow. And Tyoma.

God, he’s missed Tyoma.

And Ilya’s curls.

And Ilya’s hands.

And he cannot pop a boner on the plane, so he wrenches his thoughts away.

Ilya has clearly tried to make himself as presentable as you can be when you have a little drooling baby in your arms. Shane’s heart melts in his chest, and he can hear his mother sigh.

“Hello,” Ilya says once the door is closed behind them. After a moment, he hands Tyoma off to Shane – well-practised even weeks later – and holds his hand out to Mom and Dad. “I am Ilya.”

“Hello, Ilya.” Mom shakes it. “I am Yuna, this is David.”

“And this is Tyoma,” Shane adds, and passes Tyoma off.

It also means that he can kiss Ilya.

His parents don’t comment on that. They’re far too busy cooing over Tyoma, who gives them a gummy smile, drooling on Mom’s shirt. She doesn’t seem to mind.

“I am glad he will grow up with grandparents, yes?” Ilya murmurs. It’s a question.

“Yes,” Shane confirms.

Yuna looks up. “Of course.” She smiles. “It’s a little unorthodox, maybe, but – welcome to the family, Ilya.”

“Oh,” Ilya says, and then turns abruptly to lead them further into the house.

Shane catches his hand and lets himself be pulled along.

Yes, Ilya and Tyoma will make an excellent addition to the family.

Chapter 8: Cliff

Chapter Notes

More relationship reveals – because I can, and because I wrapped up the draft for my ICE OUT fill (two remaining now!) earlier today and I deserve a treat for that :D

Roz is just putting dinner in the oven when Cliff lets himself into Roz’s flat.

He’s had the door code ever since Roz moved in – so you do not miss me, yes? Roz had said when he’d returned Cliff’s parking garage opener to him upon moving after his rookie year – but he’d never used it freely.

Now, with little Artem, he is very adept at making sure the heavy fire safety doors are shut before punching in Roz’s door code, at pulling the door closed behind him without waking the tyke.

It’s familiar, by now. He’ll miss it come off-season.

Cliff may not be the smartest guy, but he has a pretty good emotional radar, he’d say. Which means he knows there’s something Roz is chewing over quite a while before Roz says anything. It’s in the set of his shoulders, maybe, a heaviness in his eyes, the smile he bites down on when he’s looking at his phone, even when Artem is within reach.

A new girlfriend? Cliff wonders.

He doesn’t ask.

Roz wouldn’t thank him if he did, and he’ll come to Cliff in his own time, will share when he’s ready.

He almost always has, after all.

They’re having dinner at Roz’s, as usual, with little Artem cradled in a sling against Roz’s chest because it’s the only way he’s not constantly screaming and crying. Cliff truly does not envy Roz this.

“Marly.” Roz swirls water around in his glass like wine. “I have something to tell you.”

Oh fuck.

“I have put in request for trade.”

“What?!”

Roz smiles, razor-sharp and without amusement. Out of all the things Cliff expected, this did not make the list. “I want trade.”

Cliff goes over everything the guys have said, trying to see what set Roz off. “But – why?”

“Is not the room,” Roz tells him, draining his glass. One hand cups Artem’s back, the other taps against the side of the glass. “Guys are great. You are my best friend. But…” Roz sighs. “I… there is family.”

“Yours?” Cliff asks, before something terrible occurs to him. “Or – Artem’s?!”

Roz snorts in amusement. “Yes, ours. Is… new. Special. And I think it will be good for both of us if we are closer to them.”

“Who?” Cliff asks, and then, “Where?”

“Ottawa, if possible.” Roz hesitates. “Montreal, would be ideal.”

“They’ll never trade for you.”

“Yes. So Ottawa, then.”

“But why,” Cliff repeats. It’s not even a question. He can’t make it a question.

“Because love,” Roz says, like it’s easy as anything. “And… Mama Hollander wants her grandson closer.”

… There are so many words that do not make sense in that sentence. “Come again?”

Roz’s nostrils flare, and there’s a mild blush on his cheeks, almost like he’s talking about Montreal Jane. Jane. Which – no –

“I am seeing Hollander.” Roz says it easily, but there’s a giddiness underneath that betrays him. “And – Nadia is amazing, but… Mama Hollander…” Roz shrugs.

Jane. Shane. Montreal.

“Only you, fucking fucks, Roz.”

It’s a shock to the system, but there’s a stony certainty about Roz that Cliff knows it’s useless to argue. So he doesn’t.

Instead, he consoles himself that even with a baby as an argument, Roz has two very specific teams in mind, and management won’t just let him go. He’s still playing amazing. He’s still competitive as ever. He’s also, maybe, possibly, dating Shane Hollander.

On second thought, it’s actually far less shocking than Cliff had thought. After all, doesn’t everyone say that there’s a very thin line between love and hate?

“Fuck, Roz,” Cliff says, “I’ll miss you.”

Roz flies into Montreal a day ahead of their next game.

“I have in-person talk with my agent,” he says, and dips before anyone can ask whether he switched from his Russian agent. Cliff corners him at the dinner table later.

Ever since Roz told him that he’d requested a trade, Cliff hasn’t really missed a meal with Roz. They’re a numbered good, after all, and Cliff will not waste it.

“Agent?”

“I switched,” Roz says easily, wrangling Artem. “But yes, I am also meeting Hollander and parents before.”

“Can I meet him?”

Roz blinks twice. “I will ask him.”

Hollander off the ice has always struck Cliff as awkward to the bone. Now, with Artem cradled in his arms, little of that remains. He looks totally at ease. In love, too, as Cliff realises after a moment, looking at both Roz and Artem with heart-eyes. Jesus; how have they ever fooled anyone?

“Hello, Marleau.” Hollander nods at him, barely even apologetic that he cannot shake Cliff’s hand because of Artem. Cliff understands.

“Thank you for having me.”

Hollander shrugs. “You are Roz’s best friend – aside from Svetlana, probably. Of course I want to meet you.”

Cliff is briefly speechless.

They hang out at Hollander’s place for a couple of hours, until they all disperse for their naps.

Well, Cliff leaves to nap in the hotel. Roz and Hollander hand Artem off to Blue and see Cliff to the door. Roz makes no move to follow Cliff.

Right. Of course. He wasn’t kidding when he said seeing Hollander.

“Well,” Cliff says on the stoop. “Thank you again. And – see you at the arena?”

“Yeah,” they both reply, though Cliff had been talking or Roz.

Roz smirks. “We have team to slaughter.”

“Hey!” Hollander protests.

At least some things don’t change.

Now that Cliff knows, he can see the extra glint in Roz’s eye as he faces Hollander on the dot. Can see the ferocity with which the two check each other into the boards. Cannot deny that Roz is just a little faster, a little smoother here in Montreal than elsewhere.

If there’d been any doubt about their competitiveness and integrity – which there hadn’t – it would be laid to rest with this.

But Cliff knows Roz, and he has a pretty good read on Hollander, he’d wager, and so it hadn’t even occurred to him until now.

He’ll miss Roz.

Chapter 9: Connor Connors

“Uuuh,” Conny says. He clears his throat. Swallows. “Roz?”

It’s always a little overwhelming when that laser-focus is suddenly trained on him. “Yes?”

“There’s – uh, a… Jackie Pike waiting for you?”

“That –” Roz lets out a string of Russian that makes Nicky blush three stalls over. “Sorry. She is very lovely woman, married to very bad player. Give me five, I will see her.”

Conny was just the messenger, and yet he still somehow ends up waiting with Jackie Pike, Montreal Metros WAG, and chatting about babies. Conny doesn’t even have a baby himself, nor does he want one.

Wtf.

If Conny had thought Jackie Pike was bad enough, it only gets weirder from there, because Roz follows her out and meets Hollander and Pike, waiting off to the side so it’s not immediately visible from the doors.

Hollander appears to have a baby cradled in his arms.

Conny blinks. Blinks again. Are the mysterious babies multiplying?

Except, no – Blue, Roz’s nanny, is off to the side, both thumbs flying over her phone. Which means…

“Tyoma!” Roz coos, stepping in close to Hollander to take Artem from him with practices motions.

Conny blinks again. “I feel like I missed something.”

“You’ve gotten lax, Rozanov,” Pike says mildly, though he’s smirking just enough that Conny bristles.

Then, he realises Pike is right, because it appears he’s just stepped into a pretty big secret. This, in turn, makes him bristle more.

“Oh.” Mrs. Pike looks from Conny to Roz and then briefly at Hollander, who purses his lips. “I thought he knew.”

“Ilya, did you actually… break the news?” Hollander asks.

Roz guilelessly raises his eyes. “This is breaking news, yes?”

“It’s certainly breaking something,” Hollander mutters and pinches his nose.

Conny looks at the assembled Metros. “Okay, what am I missing?”

He doesn’t even need to hear Roz say it. Not really. Because Pike is here with his wife. Hollander had been handing Artem over like he’s used to handling him. Blue is still either totally ignoring them or pretending to. In the distance, two people who Conny vaguely recognises as Hollander’s parents are crossing the parking lot.

“Tell me this isn’t what it looks like,” Conny says, his voice thin. “Tell me this isn’t true.”

“Conny –”

“Roz, please tell me you didn’t steal Hollander’s baby.”

Too many confused faces look at him.

“Connors, what are you talking about?” Pike frowns.

“I did not steal baby.” Roz’s voice is hard. For some reason, Hollander has taken a step towards him, and now has his hand on Roz’s back. Granted, he does not look like a man who got his baby stolen. Artem also doesn’t actually look like him, though it’s nearly impossible to tell with babies this small, in Conny’s opinion.

“Oh! Don’t tell me Hollander is actually a hockey robot?”

“Conny –” Roz closes his eyes like he’d pinch the bridge of his nose like Hollander had a moment ago.

“I’m a man of flesh and bone,” Hollander confirms.

Roz leers.

“Gross, Rozanov,” Pike cuts in, which resets Roz’s expression.

Conny is still looking from Roz to the Metros and then to Mrs. Pike.

If it’s not that… “Is Hollander trying to make sure he’s the next super star?” Conny finally guesses, a little bit at his wit’s end.

“Oh my god, Conny,” Marly says from behind him, in that tone of voice that implies a facepalm. “And they say I’m the slow one.”

“He took more pucks to head,” Roz points out, which isn’t even a lie.

“What!? Nothing’s making sense.”

Marly sighs. “They’re fucking, Conny. Christ. Hello, Hollzy, Pikes.”

Fucking? Conny glances from Hollander to the Pikes and back at Roz.

“Just the two of you?” he finally asks.

Roz gives him his most incredulous look. “Yes, I am bisexual. Yes, it is serious. Yes, Tyoma is mine.”

“But –” Conny blinks again, and then thinks fuck it, and just blurts out, “I thought Hollander was the Pike’s third?”

“You what?” four different voices ask in varying octaves.

Only Jackie Pike is grinning and looking between her husband and Hollander, and Artem is mercifully quiet.

“I mean – it’s always Pike and Hollander, right? Also in the off-season. So.”

Marly facepalms.”

“Shane is very cute,” Mrs. Pike says, which makes Hollander sputter. “But he is also very oblivious. I have always wondered how this thing with him and Ilya started.”

“Ilya,” Hollander hisses warningly. Roz gives him a sunny smile.

“Is easy. I pounce him. Not very mistakable.”

“You arranged a fucking photo shoot,” Hollander complains.

“Wait,” Pike cuts in. “That – the CCM one? Before your first season?”

“Yes,” Roz agrees smugly.

Hollander frowns at Pike. “Wait, why do you know that.”

“Uh –” Pike scratches the back of his neck. Is he blushing? “Wondered because – y’know. Rivalry. Stuck in my head.”

To everyone’s relief, Hollander’s parents show up then. This is not a thought Conny had expected to have, so he’s still a little besides himself through the introductions.

Mrs. Hollander surveys the scene. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on becoming your own expansion team.”

Roz’s eyes light up at the same moment as Hollander says, “No, Ilya. Down.”

To Conny’s surprise – and he hadn’t even realised he’d still had the capacity – Roz does quiet down immediately.

Pike smirks about it, Mrs. Pike rolls her eyes, and Artem gurgles.

“Yeah, you’ll want more savings,” Mrs. Hollander agrees. “Okay, everyone ready now?”

Within a minute, Conny is alone in the parking lot, because apparently the rest had been waiting for each other and are now on their way somewhere, together.

Two Raiders, two Metros, and entourage. It sounds like the setup of a bad joke.

“You okay?” a new voice asks behind Conny. Boiziau. Who seems to not be in on… whatever this is. Not a polycule, apparently.

“I think I got my bell rung,” Conny says.

Boiziau makes a concerned noise.

“No, like – it’s been a weird post-game.”

“Happens sometimes,” Boiziau agrees. “Uh – you good on your own?”

“Yeah.” He’s gotta.

Chapter 10: Nadia

Chapter Notes

Happy Ides of March!

Finally, finally the PoV that was supposed to be Chapter 3 is here – Nadia 💛 I hope you have fun reading!

Nadia doesn’t follow hockey. But as a Russian, even without following hockey, she knows who the man on the other side of the call is with his blond curls and mole and wide smile, and the utter relief when she greets him in Russian.

She doesn’t ask how he became a single dad. It’s not her place, and she doesn’t really care; she’s just finished a nursing degree and a more-or-less full-time gig sounds pretty nice.

The first time she meets him and Artem, she watches the two of them, and thinks to herself, yes, I can see this work.

The first time Nadia is over at Ilya’s for real – not just to introduce herself – there is a dark-skinned, intimidatingly gorgeous woman there. Do not fall for your employer’s… friends, Nadia tells herself as she breathes through her thundering heart.

“Hello,” Gorgeous says in Russian. “I’m Svetlana. Ilyusha said his nanny was… colourful.”

Nadia meets Svetlana’s eyes instead of running a hand through her blue hair. “Children need colour in their lives. All this uniformity is actually bad for development.”

Svetlana laughs, making her infinitely more beautiful. “I couldn’t agree more. I like you.”

Maybe Svetlana is cool after all.

“That should be a crime,” Ilya’s best friend says when Nadia introduces herself. She’s used to people not being cool, but after Svetlana, she’s more inclined to give Cliff a chance. True enough, he adds, “We’re in Raiders territory.”

“Don’t worry,” Nadia tells him, “I’m not a hockey fan at all.”

“Better than Metros fan,” Ilya calls from the other side of the room. “They only have second-best player, after all.”

Cliff rolls his eyes. “Don’t mind his vendetta against Shane Hollander.” The name is vaguely familiar, probably because of Ilya.

Cliff proves himself cool by virtue of his sister.

The mystery of Shane Hollander solves itself within a couple of weeks: Nadia arrives to Ilya on the phone – with a man of Asian descent, with messy dark hair and glasses. He seems familiar.

“Nadienka! Come say hi!” He waves her over. “This is Shane.”

Oh.

“We’ve met,” Shane says, right as Nadia asks, “The second best player in the league?”

Ilya laughs uproariously as Nadia finally realises where she knows him from: he was with Ilya for the second interview. Also, she’s pretty sure she’s seen him on adverts. Huh.

“Second best dad, too,” Ilya says.

Shane smiles helplessly.

Nadia meets the rest of the team during a barbecue in one of the suburban homes of Ilya’s teammate. “You don’t have to come,” he tells her seriously as he straps Tyoma into the car seat, “but I would like to introduce you.”

“Can’t scare me away.” She grins. “Rugby gal, remember?”

“You won’t let me forget.” But he’s smiling, and then ushering her to his car.

The team is rowdy, but they clearly adore Tyoma and their captain. A decent bunch, at first glance, though Nadia’s aware of the reality.

Ilya seems to have them well in hand, though.

Ilya makes true on his offer (threat) and procures Cliff’s sister’s number. Not necessarily because Nadia has high hopes for a relationship, but she hasn’t been in Boston long and wouldn’t mind an in to the community.

Aline shares her brother’s height and his dark hair, the easy, charismatic smile. Nadia’s hopes abruptly tick up.

“I asked my friend for an authentic Russian restaurant here. But if you’d rather get a true Bostonian experience, I can also provide that,” Aline offers after coffee.

Nadia laughs. “Let’s start with the Bostonian option. And maybe… the Russian one later.”

“Absolutely,” Aline agrees.

“So you’re the nanny.” Shane’s mother gives Nadia a critical look. Years ago, Nadia would have straightened up, or tried to fortify herself.

Not she just smiles. “Yeah. Blue, hi.”

“Yuna.” Yuna meets her eyes, and then smiles. “And this is David. Tired of people butchering your name?”

Nadia snorts. “Yeah. How’d you guess?”

“We picked Shane after careful deliberation,” David adds with a wink.

Nadia actually laughs.

“And yet Ilya picked Artem.” To her credit, Yuna pronounces both names correctly, which immediately endears her to Nadia.

“Tyoma will always be seen,” Nadia points out.

“And he’ll always have support.”

“You have a baby, Unca Shane?”

“Obviously!”

The girls, maybe four years of age, stare up at Shane with identically wide eyes. Literally.

“Not mine,” Shane says easily, kneeling down so he’s on eye-level with the girls. “This is Tyoma. He’s Ilya’s.”

“Why’s Iya not intaducing him then?” the one on the left asks.

“Because you’re his menaces,” Ilya provides, ruffling the girl’s hair.

“Not a mennes,” the one on the right protests.

“Yes, we are,” the left one stage-whispers.

Nadia grins and finally turns to the parents.

“You have your hands full, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Jackie sighs.

For their second date, they don’t end up going to the authentic Russian place. They plan to, but then Ilya goes down on the ice, and Nadia ends up rushing back to his place.

“You don’t have to come with me.”

“Are you kidding me? Getting to see the kid Cliff’s been going crazy over? I wouldn’t miss it. If you’ll have me.”

“Of course,” Nadia says. With a side-long glance, she adds, “Which one of them do you mean?”

Aline cackles as they hop on the T back to Ilya’s. “Yeah. They both make it easy to love them.”

“I feel like if we ever do end up going to that Russian place, we’ll break up.”

“Superstitious much?” Nadia asks, as though the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, too.

“What can I say? I, too, played hockey for too long.”

Nadia smiles at her. “Don’t worry – I can give you the authentic cuisine experience whenever you’d like.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I… can’t exactly ask you to move in with how much time I’m spending at Ilya’s, but – yeah.”

Aline laughs and leans in for a kiss. “One step at a time, Nadiushka.”

“Then how about we start with Borscht?”

“Absolutely.”

Chapter End Notes

Thank you to everyone who followed along – this was an absolute blast :D It’ll probably be a couple of days until I post the next thing, because the one ICE OUT fill is off to be beta’d and the next one is fighting its leash, on the verge of spiralling again, so we’ll see tho nothing as enticing as new fic while trying to wrangle an idea into submission 😂😂😂.

In the meantime, you can find me on tumblr, where I reblog a lot of Heated Rivalry and occasionally share writing updates (I also always take asks about WIPs and drabble prompts!)