Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Fluff, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Coming Out

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-12 Words: 2,754 Chapters: 1/1

Cliff and Shane Break the Internet

Summary

On the screen was perhaps the most confusing headline Shane had seen in all his years in the spotlight.

‘Is Montreal’s Shane Hollander Having an Illicit Love Affair with Boston’s Cliff Marlow?’

Shane blinked twice, his mind slamming to a halt as he read and re-read the words. “What the fuck?”

Notes

To everyone who saw this on twitter and was immediately excited about the fic- sorry it took so long! I've been a busy boy recently, but I am back at it now!!

Hope you enjoy!!

Shane woke abruptly.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his skin prickling as if he was going into overtime in the playoffs.

He blinked slowly, his eyebrows scrunching as he evaluated the room around him, trying to work out what had startled him so much. Over the last year, he had grown used to how he slept beside Ilya– peacefully, quietly, his limbs feeling syrupy and warm. Waking up in any way that didn’t involve muffled voices and a heavy body pressing into his was unnatural and jarring. At first glance, he couldn’t find anything wrong in the room. Ilya was still asleep beside him, one arm slung across Shane’s middle, his mouth hanging open as he let out snuffling snores that he always denied when he was awake. Shane could see clear skies out the window, so it wasn’t weather that had woken him, and he had turned off all of his alarms, so it couldn’t be–

His phone.

He had turned off his alarms and put the thing on vibrate, but it was practically shaking the bed with how much it was vibrating on the nightstand beside him. Shane reached out for it reluctantly, pursing his lips. Whatever was on his phone was likely to ruin the morning he had been hoping to spend with Ilya, but putting it off would only make whatever was coming worse.

Shane had learned that.

He swiped through his notifications slowly, tensions building in his chest at every new message. He couldn’t even scroll down to the bottom, new texts coming in constantly and obscuring his vision.

Yet somehow, he still didn’t know what the hell was happening.

Rose: Shane this is so fucking funny

seriously I cant believe this is happening

are you ok though??? at least you can deny it without lying!!

Hayden: Dude this is fucking crazy

Like obviously its not true

But its so close

Thats insane

Do you need anything?

Jackie said I should ask

Shes calling me unhelpful

Shaneeee tell my wife Im helpful

Sorry this isnt the time I guess

Love you, bud. Hope you and Rozanov are doing alright

(Jackie says she loves you too)

(She says to tell Rozanov she loves him as well. Please don’t tell him that)

Mom: Call me as soon as you can.

We love you, baby. Let us know if we can help.

Shane?

Okay, you’re probably asleep. It’s going to be okay, I need you to know that.

I’ll call some people. Don’t worry about it.

Text me back when you wake up ♥️

Dad: I know your mom already texted you, but I wanted to check in. Love you, kid. Let Ilya know we love him too.

Please text your mom back when you get up, she’s pacing a canyon into our living room.

Shane’s hands shook, the motion blurring his phone screen. He began carefully tapping out a response to his mom– hopefully something more eloquent than “what the fuck is happening what the fuck is happening’ but he couldn’t be too sure– only to be stopped by a call taking over his screen. He swiped it away without even bothering to see who it was, some part of him knowing he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone.

Anyone but Ilya, anyway.

Mind made up, Shane quickly put his phone fully on silent and tossed it into the pile of blankets that surrounded them. He considered Ilya’s still-sleeping form briefly before deciding fuck it and dropping himself on top of the man. It was probably better to start this conversation upright, but Shane wanted to cuddle his boyfriend before having to deal with whatever was awaiting him online.

“Mm? Shane?” Ilya’s voice was scratchy and deep, his throat working through a rough swallow as he tried to wake up. “Are you alright?”

It was only then that Shane realized it wasn’t just his hands that were shaking– it was all of him. He made a conscious effort to relax, stiffening his whole body before relaxing his joints one by one, sinking deeper into the heat of Ilya beneath him.

“I– something happened.”

That woke Ilya up immediately, and Shane let out a quiet sound of protest as the man sat upright and took him with him.

“What happened?” Ilya ran his hands over Shane’s body firmly, probably feeling for an injury that somehow cropped up overnight. “You are okay?”

“I don’t know,” Shane admitted, turning his head to glare at his phone. “I don’t know what happened, and I don’t know if I’m okay.”

“Alright,” Ilya said slowly, his face scrunching up. “What can I do?”

Those words ran over Shane like honey. The anxious energy that had taken root in his gut crept back just a bit, allowing more room for his lungs to breathe.

“Can you find out what happened? I think it’s online, I just… I didn’t want to look.”

“Of course, moya lyubov. I will look now. Do you want to see, or do you want me to tell you?” Ilya’s voice was soothing, as if he was speaking to a frightened animal. Shane admitted to himself that he sort of was.

“Can you just tell me?”

“Anything for you.”

Ilya stretched his arm out, the rest of his body staying plastered to Shane as he grabbed his phone. Shane allowed himself one glance at the screen, some amount of relief filling him when he saw that Ilya didn’t have nearly as many messages. At least whatever was going on didn’t involve both of them. With that in mind, Shane tilted his head away and tucked his face into his boyfriend’s neck. 

They sat in a stilted silence, far from the comfortable quiet they usually shared after waking up together. Shane pressed a kiss to the skin of Ilya’s neck, trying to comfort himself more than anything else. He could practically hear Ilya thinking, the other man’s fingers tapping rapidly against the glass of his phone screen, until–

Ilya laughed.

It was quiet and mostly stifled, but it was there. Shane couldn’t fathom what could have the man laughing at a time like this, and he pulled back to look at the phone without thinking about it.

On the screen was perhaps the most confusing headline Shane had seen in all his years in the spotlight.

‘Is Montreal’s Shane Hollander Having an Illicit Love Affair with Boston’s Cliff Marlow?’

Shane blinked twice, his mind slamming to a halt as he read and re-read the words. “What the fuck?”

As if given permission, Ilya burst into loud laughter. “They think you are fucking Marly,” he gasped out, “I cannot believe– as if Marlow could ever pull Shane Hollander.”

“What am I even supposed to say to this?” Shane asked, truly flabbergasted as he scanned the next few lines of the article.

‘The Montreal hockey captain was spotted outside the Boston home that Boston Bears assistant captain Cliff Marlow resides in on several occasions- each taking place shortly before or after a game between the two rival teams. Is this just a friendship, or something more? Could the two men be colluding to help both teams get to the playoffs? Or, as I believe, are they intimately involved? In one of the shots, Hollander is seen getting into a cab outside the home with his hair ruffled and his clothing askew. Could this be from some unseemly activities?’

Shane groaned loudly, pulling himself away from Ilya to grab his own phone and tap out a quick response of ‘what the fuck do I do about this’ to his mom. “Why didn’t you tell me that Cliff fucking Marlow lived there? Ilya I’ve been getting dropped off there so nobody would think I was fucking a hockey player!”

“No,” Ilya argued, his eyes alight with amusement. “You have been getting dropped there so nobody knows you are fucking me.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“But you love me very much, so what does this say about you?”

“I don’t know, it kind of looks like I love Cliff Marlow.”

That snapped Ilya out of it. His smile dropped from his face abruptly and the arm that was still around Shane tightened. 

“You are not in love with Marlow, though. You are in love with me.”

“Clearly that’s not what the internet thinks,” Shane teased, snatching Ilya’s phone out of his lax hand. “Look at this one– looks like he really wrecked me.” 

Ilya hardly even looked at the photo before he was springing up from the bed, his phone once more clutched in his hand. “We cannot allow this,” he muttered, scrolling impatiently through his contacts until he landed on one. “I will call Marly. What did Yuna say?”

Amused, Shane glanced back down at his phone to see a pile of messages waiting for him from his mom.

“She said I can either deny it or wait for it to blow over. Apparently it’s just the one gossip rag taking it seriously.” Shane could feel himself relaxing as he continued to scroll through his mom’s reassurances of how overblown the issue was. “Hey, she said I could maybe use it as an excuse to come out– what do you think? I’m not sure if I’m ready, honestly, but there have been some good changes since Hunter came out, and it went well with Hayden–”

“No!” Ilya blurted out, his eyes wild. “If you– they will think Marlow is why you are coming out. I– Shane. Is not many people, but some people think you are fucking Marlow. We deny.”

Warmth flooded Shane at the sight of a jealous Ilya, a sight he had never really gotten to see. Sure, Ilya always got a bit tetchy when Rose was brought up, and he had a tendency to leave marks on Shane whenever he could get away with it, but he had never been faced with the idea of Shane being with another man.

“Okay, okay!” Shane caved, a smile breaking out on his face. “Don’t call Marlow though. You’ll say something stupidly possessive and he’ll figure us out in a second.”

“Good,” Ilya muttered. “Keep him from getting stupid ideas from stupid articles.”

Shane paused for a moment, allowing himself to properly take Ilya in. Beneath the jealousy that he was probably playing up for Shane’s amusement was a note of truth. Ilya wanted this.

“You… want to tell him?”

There was a moment where Ilya looked at him silently, his eyes filled with all of the love Shane had always thought he couldn’t receive. He stepped forward, his arms rising to pull Shane into him, and Shane buried himself in the familiar warmth of his boyfriend’s arms.

“Shane, I would tell everyone. I know that is not a good idea right now so I do not, but… Yes. I want to tell Marlow, I want to tell Sveta, I want to tell anyone who will listen and not run to a gossip magazine right after.”

Shane sniffed loudly, trying to ignore the tears prickling behind his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered, his hands clutching the back of Ilya’s shirt. “You should tell him, then. Do you want me to step out?”

“No,” Ilya said easily, pulling back to grin down at Shane. “This will be funny.”

Giggling softly, Shane fell back onto the mattress, tugging Ilya along with him. They settled in against each other with their backs pressed to the headboard, and Shane took a moment to respond to his mom with a quick ‘I’m denying it. Can you talk to my agent?’ while Ilya dialed Marlow’s number.

The call was picked up quickly, an obviously flustered Marlow speaking as soon as the line connected. “Roz, I swear I’m not– I mean obviously I’m not– god. Obviously I’m not fucking Shane Hollander, but I swear I haven’t seen him at all. I’m not meeting with the enemy or whatever.”

Ilya snorted at that, his eyes dancing. “No, I would hope you were not fucking my boyfriend.”

“Of course I’m not– wait. Roz. Roz, what do you mean–”

“Hollander was not meeting you after I score hat trick against his sad team, obviously. He was coming to me to show his appreciation for my skills.”

Shane wrinkled his nose at that, glaring up at Ilya from where he had settled on the man’s chest.

“Dude, that’s not funny,” Marlow responded, his voice oddly cold. “Listen, I know things might be different around the rest of the team or whatever, but you can’t make stupid gay jokes when it’s just us. My cousin is gay, man, you know that–”

“Marly,” Ilya cut in, his eyes wide. “I am not joking.”

There was an extended silence from the other end of the line, during which Shane tried and failed to catch Ilya’s eyes. He could hear the man’s heart beating rapidly from where his ear was pressed to his chest. Clearly this conversation meant more to him than he was letting on.

“Okay,” Marlow said eventually. “You… okay. So Hollander is your…”

“Boyfriend, yes.”

“Your boyfriend.” Marlow’s words were slow, careful. As if he was realigning everything he knew about Ilya as he spoke. “Wait… Rozy. Is Shane fucking Hollander your Montreal girl?”

Ilya let out a wordless laugh at that, pressing a kiss to the top of Shane’s head as Marlow began to make increasingly distressed noises on the other end of the line.

“How many years has this been going on?! What the fuck, Roz– you’ve slept with so many women! Have you been cheating on Golden Boy Shane Hollander? Do we need to have a talk?”

That sobered Ilya up. Shane smiled fondly as his boyfriend’s arm tightened around him, the weight of it anchoring him in place. “Of course not,” Ilya said, his tone not allowing room for a rebuttal. “I want no one other than my Shane. For a long time we were… not exclusive.”

“But you are now? Exclusive?”

“Yes.”

Marlow let out a heavy breath, the sound distorted through Ilya’s phone. “Okay. I’m happy for you, man– seriously. Maybe we could all have dinner sometime? If he means this much to you, I would like to get to know him. And maybe apologize for that one time I…” Marlow’s voice abruptly cut off, a shuddering breath in their place.

“Ilya. Did I maim your boyfriend that one time?”

Shane could feel Ilya stiffen beneath him, and he lifted a hand to card through his hair reassuringly. “I’m fine,” he murmured, his voice just low enough to not be overheard by Marlow.

“It is… well. Is not fine, but Shane is okay. You can do bag skates next practice to make up for it.”

“Wait–!”

“Bye, Marly! Oh– tell anyone and you will regret it, yes?”

Ilya paused with his finger hovering over the red ‘End Call’ button, and Shane scratched gently at the man’s scalp in an attempt to help him calm down.

“Of course, Roz. You two are safe with me. Let Hollander know my PR team will agree with whatever he says, okay?”

“Thanks, Marlow,” Shane called out, laughing alongside Ilya as the man’s sound of surprise was cut off by Ilya ending the call.

In the silence that followed, Shane allowed himself to grow comfortable again. He burrowed into Ilya’s chest forcefully enough to slide them down the mattress until they were laying flat once more, a content sound emerging from deep within his chest.

“I love you, Ilya,” he murmured, his words muffled into the other man’s shirt.

“I love you, too,” Ilya replied easily, his hands tracing nonsensical shapes into Shane’s back.

There was no telling what would happen next. The internet would probably move on pretty quickly, but Shane knew there would always be people clinging to the ridiculous (even if not totally incorrect) article. He would definitely get questions about it from a nosy reporter, so he needed to prepare himself for that, and…

And none of it mattered. 

At the end of the day, he still had Ilya. There weren’t too many people they could trust, but that list was growing. If anything, part of Shane was grateful to the particularly dedicated gossip rag for papping him so many times– it led to one more person on their side. And this time, the person was specifically on Ilya’s side.

The last year had been a lesson in allowing himself hope, and as Shane began to slowly doze off on his boyfriend’s chest, he could feel it filling him.