Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander

Additional Tags:

Injury, Past Injury, Aging, Hurt/Comfort, Banter, Established Relationship, Hurt Ilya Rozanov

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of [challenge] Heated Rivalry Febuwhump 2026

Collections:

febuwhump 2026

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-02 Words: 1,367 Chapters: 1/1

years marked in our bones

Summary

Years after they’ve retired, Ilya goes down on the ice. Shane copes debatably well.

Notes

Fill two for Febuwhump! Today’s prompt was “Old Injury” which truly is made for this fandom, isn’t it?

Shane isn’t even watching – not properly, at least. He’s leaning against the boards, chatting with Eliza and keeping half an eye out on the kids, milling about on the ice like a bag of pucks dumped out. Bantam practice has just ended, and so it’s time for the little siblings and friends to come out, the rink full of laughter that has Shane smiling along as he listens to Eliza talk about her weekend plans.

And just like that, Ilya crumples.

In the half-second it takes for Shane’s brain to catch up to what he sees out of the corner of his eye, his whole world stops. It’s sudden. One moment, Ilya is gliding around on the ice with that easy grace that Shane loves about him, and then he drops. Shane’s heart echoes the trajectory, leaving behind a gaping absence where it’s supposed to be.

“Liya!” someone cries, and that’s enough to jump start Shane’s body again, getting him moving towards where Ilya – his husband, his love, his life – is lying on the ice and –

It’s not a clean hit. Not like Marleau’s hit on Shane a couple years ago, which had been clean but unfortunate in its timing. No. This is fully, consciously malicious, and not even the most biased of refs could see it any other way, so Shane knows that Comeau will be sent to the box, a timeout for two minutes. Maybe a game misconduct, if they’re lucky.

But all of that is irrelevant, because Ilya is lying on the ice and not getting up. The whistle sounds, killing whatever play was going on, but Shane is only peripherally aware of it as he skates towards the crumpled form of his husband. No one tries to stop him, not like they did with Ilya three years ago, but it doesn’t matter, because Shane is still too late, Ilya is still down, is still not getting up.

At least he’s conscious, Shane realises when he gets close enough to see Ilya’s face. He’s conscious, but he’s clearly wishing he wasn’t, face contorted in pain.

“Ilya,” Shane says – gasps, really, like he’s been bag skated instead of skated across the rink, but how can he breathe when Ilya is lying there. Of course it was Comeau. Of course. It’s not like he hasn’t made Shane’s life miserable enough over the years.

“I am okay,” Ilya wheezes, and he’s lying, because he’s clearly not okay, he’s so very far okay.

“Rozanov,” barks a ref, “medics are on the way, do we need a spinal board?”

“No,” Ilya manages, though he stays lying on the cold, hard ice. “Is knee.”

Shit.

“Is not my head,” Ilya tells Shane. “Not my spine. I will be okay. You go fuck up Comeau for me, yes?”

“Don’t incite him to violence.” The ref sounds resigned, or maybe relieved, that Ilya is speaking normally.

Around them, there’s a bustle: medics come, with a knee brace for Ilya to stabilise his knee; the refs confer about the penalty; and Hayden skates over, the A on heavier on his chest than Shane has ever seen it. He looks gutted when he comes to a stop next to Shane, staring at the pain contorting Ilya’s face for a long second. Says, “I’m sorry,” like it’s any of his fault.

The Metros haven’t even named a new Captain yet, and Shane doesn’t doubt that the coaching staff will at best ignore Comeau’s cross-check or at worst congratulate him. There is no one to hold any of the players accountable this season, and if it weren’t for his four kids and the closeness of Jackie’s parents, Hayden would probably also be packing up and asking his agent to shop around for a new place for him. Looking at his face now, Shane wonders if that might not happen regardless.

“We’ll take our revenge above board,” he replies when he trusts his voice again, which makes Hayden exhale like Shane has absolved him of the sins of his team. Maybe Shane has.

With the help of Shane and Troy, Ilya manages to get up. It gets him applause that holds until they’ve shuffled him off the ice.

Later, they will learn that Ilya’s season is over but that he’s been lucky, that his knee is projected to make a full recovery. Later, Shane will curl around Ilya and listen to his heart beat while his own breaks in his chest, reminded that Ilya didn’t have that luxury when Shane went down. That he’d had to watch Shane be carted off without any means of finding out his state. Later, Shane will think he is lucky.

In the moment, all he can think of is how Ilya had collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

–

“I am alright, Katrina,” Ilya is saying at present, already sitting up again. He is smiling. “This is why you need to know how to fall, yes? So you do not hurt yourself when you do.”

The little girl lets out a shaky laugh, looking from Ilya to Shane and then to where her parents are. Shane does his best to keep his face reassuringly calm, even though his heart is still rabbiting in his chest. Ilya is alright. Shane knows this, rationally. Knows that his knee has been acting up these past couple of weeks, that it will randomly give out. It’s not a new injury. It had healed well enough after Comeau’s hit, but they both carry scars from their careers: it’s the price they pay for playing the sport they love at the highest level imaginable.

That doesn’t make it easier to watch when it does happen.

“Look, I am already getting up again.”

“You’re supposed to take it slow,” Shane tells him, but he digs his blades into the ice so he can lend Ilya a hand, make sure he’s stable when he wobbles briefly. Alright. Yeah, sure.

“I am! How much more slow can I take this! This is boring!”

“That’s what happens when you get old,” Katrina says, with all the wisdom a five year-old can muster.

“It really is,” Ilya agrees mournfully. “I think that means it is up to you now to show us how it is done. Go do the slalom again, and maybe Shane will show you how an old man with two working knees can do it.”

“Will do, Liya, Sir.” She grins up at them, and then takes off towards the slalom course that’s still set up on the ice, winding her way around the pylons with ease.

“Old, huh?” Shane asks softly as they watch her skate away.

“Old and boring, according to the kids. What has happened to us?”

Shane leans close and presses a kiss to Ilya’s cheek. “We’ve grown old together.”

Ilya sighs and turns so he can catch Shane’s lips in a soft kiss, though he breaks away again before Katrina can catch their lapse in attention. He shouts a few pointers for her, before he turns back to Shane.

“We are growing old together. We are not yet that old, Shane.”

“Some days, it doesn’t feel like it.”

Ilya tsks. “Is old injury, not decrepitness.”

“Decrepitness?” Shane repeats wryly, which makes Ilya chuckle.

“Shakespeare also made up his own words!”

“Yeah, because you’re Shakespeare.”

“I could be,” Ilya says, and then kisses Shane again before they can go down another non-nonsensical rabbit hole of an argument. “But I promise – I am okay, I just misjudged the turn and my knee gave out. Blowjob will have to happen with you above me today, I guess.”

“Ilya!” Shane can’t help but laugh. “We’re in public!”

“Yes, but later we will not be. Now shoo, I need to make sure the kids are all set so I can take you home.”

“If you’re alright –”

“I am. Promise. Now go back to Eliza.”

“As you command.” Shane steals another quick kiss. “I love you, Ilya.”

“I love you, too. And now stop stalling.”

“Yes, old man.”

Ilya squawks, something about how they’re the same age, but it’s hard to hear over the sound of Shane’s laughter.

There truly are worse things than growing old together.