Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Alexei Rozanov, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Carter Vaughn, Yuna Hollander

Additional Tags:

Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Injured Shane Hollander, Protective Scott Hunter, thrown down the stairs, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Canon Divergent, Sochi Olympics

Language:

English

Series:

Part 5 of Skaboom's Bad Things Happen Bingo

Stats:

Published: 2025-12-08 Completed: 2025-12-11 Words: 4,107 Chapters: 2/2

My Fuse is Set, I'm Pressing Go

Summary

Instead of texting Ilya at the Sochi Olympics, Alexei finds his brother at the short-form figure skating...with Shane Hollander. A fight breaks out, leaving Shane injured and Ilya mortified and unsure what to do in a country where he can't do anything to help Shane.

Notes

Title is from "Release Me" by Jack's Mannequin.

I split this one into two parts for ease, but both are written! It's a bit clunky at the beginning, I know, but I feel like it evens out a little as it goes on, so bear with me if you can! I'm still working on getting everyone's voice, but I can't leave this fandom alone.

Chapter 1: Sochi

It was killing Shane that Ilya wouldn't talk to him, so when he had seen Ilya at the figure skating, he couldn't help himself.

It hadn't changed anything. Ilya was clearly not fine, but he hadn't admitted that to Shane, he hadn't said anything to Shane, and he had made it clear that he didn't plan to. Shane hated to walk away, but he had no choice.

Shane would have thought that Ilya would have played well here, on home ice, so close to his family, but Russia had buckled against Latvia, and Ilya was, understandably, in a terrible mood.

Shane just wished Ilya would talk to him.

Shane was halfway back to the stairs to return to Scott and Carter when he heard words in loud, angry Russian. He turned around to see a man half charging at Ilya.

"Alexei," Ilya gulped, watching as his brother stormed towards.

"There you are!" Alexei growled in Russian. "Father has been looking for you everywhere! He's pissed, you need to-"

"You're high," Ilya said.

"So what?" Alexei shrugged. "I'm here to take you back." He reached out for Ilya, but Ilya easily ducked away.

"Get away from me," Ilya said.

"No, I came here to get you, now come on!" Alexei growled, grabbing Ilya's wrist and dragging him closer.

"Hey!" Shane, who couldn't understand any of the Russian, and didn't know who this guy was, moved forward, concerned for Ilya. "Get off of him.  Let him go."

"Hollander," Ilya said, his tone warning. "Go. Away."

"Hollander?" Alexei turned to him, smirking. "Shane Hollander."

"Go. Is fine. Is my brother."

"Doesn't seem fine," Shane said, hoping that Ilya's brother's English wasn't any good.

Ilya yanked his arm away from Alexei, turning to him, scowling.

"Fuck, I'm coming," he snapped in Russian. "Clearly you’re in no shape to drive," he said, shaking his head at his brother.

There had been a time when Alexei had been alright, before their mother had died. Before the drugs. Now, the man that stood before him? He barely recognized him as his brother.

"Stupid fucking - high all the time, and I'm the one he's ashamed of? It's a joke."

Incensed, Alexei raised a hand to strike Ilya, but he never got the chance.

"Don't touch him!" Shane, still oblivious to the true nature of their conversation thanks to the language barrier, lunged forward, grabbing Alexei's arm and pulling it back.

Alexei snarled at Shane in Russian, reaching for the young man, succeeding in grabbing a fistful of his Team Canada jacket, enough to get a grip, and with one hard motion, throw Shane backwards.

"NO!" Ilya rushed forward, trying to stop his brother, but he wasn't fast enough.

Alexei's shove sent Shane toppling down the hard venue stairs. Ilya watched in horror as Shane rolled down several rows, knocking his head on the side of one of the seats, and stopping only when he reached a landing, unmoving.

Ilya was frozen with fear and indecision, not sure whether to go for his brother or go to Shane. The choice was made for him, however, when Scott Hunter came flying out of nowhere, practically vaulting over Shane's body, and grabbing Alexei, pulling him backwards.

"Go," Scott hissed to Ilya, jerking his head back to where Carter Vaughn had just reached Shane. "I'll deal with him."

Alexei, who clearly had not been prepared for the height and solid muscle that was Scott Hunter, could only watch as Ilya raced down the stairs to Shane.

"Stay with him," Carter said to Ilya. "I'm gonna go get help."

By now, they had attracted enough attention, but Ilya didn't care.

"Hollander," he said, gently reaching out, touching Shane's shoulder. "Hollander, wake up."

Shane didn't move, his eyes remaining shut, and Ilya felt his chest tighten.

"Hollander, wake up!" He nudged Shane, but was careful not to shake him too hard. "Look what you did!" He shouted in Russian, glaring at where his brother was still being held back by Scott.

Ilya wanted to pull Shane close to him, but regardless of who was watching, Shane had fallen down quite a few stairs, the possibility of spinal injury wasn't zero, and Ilya was already responsible for this. He didn't want to make it worse. At least Shane was breathing. At least he was not dead.

"Hollander, please," he whispered, trying to quell the lump rising in his throat. "Please wake up, Shane."

Before Ilya had the chance to get another word out, the paramedics that had been on standby in case injury occurred during the figure skating appeared, and Ilya was ushered aside.

Venue security had taken over dealing with Alexei, and Ilya felt himself being pulled backwards.

"Come on," Scott Hunter said, his voice gentle. "Give them space."

"He is breathing," Ilya said, though it was more an act of reminding himself of this than informing Scott.

"He's gonna be okay. Come on, Rozanov. Let's give them some room."

"He is not waking up."

"He will." Scott tugged Ilya back down the aisle. "You gotta give them space to do their work."

Maybe he was in shock, but Ilya couldn't move. He watched as best he could, trying to get a glimpse, to see if Shane was waking up, but between the paramedics, venue security, and the crowd, he couldn't see anything.

"Don't watch," Scott said, forcibly turning Ilya around as one of the paramedics got up, returning quickly with a spinal board. "Watching won't do you any good."

Scott paused, then put his arms around Ilya, pulling him into a bear hug, half for comfort, half to keep him from turning back around, from seeing Shane being maneuvered onto the board, still unconscious.

"They're gonna take him to the hospital," Scott said. "It's gonna be okay."

"I have to go with him," Ilya said quickly. "He doesn't speak Russian."

"You can't go with him, Rozanov." Scott shook his head. "Not here."

Not in Russia, where going with him would put you in danger.

Ilya grabbed onto Scott, hands fisted in the other man's jacket, fear and rage taking him over completely. He knew Scott was right, it just seemed so insignificant right now.

Shane was hurt. Shane might not wake up, and Ilya couldn't even travel with him to the hospital.

"I'll take you," Scott said. "Me and Carter. We'll all go together."

One opposing player would be suspicious. Three concerned peers? That would be far less strange. Three, they could get away with, though Carter was clearly confused by...everything, Scott was taking charge. He turned to his best friend.

"Find a cab," he instructed. "And fuck, somebody find Shane's coach  and have him meet us there."

Scott may have been, well, Scott Hunter, but even Ilya had to admit, he was good in a crisis.

Or at least, good in this crisis.

Ilya allowed himself to be escorted outside by Scott, and into the cab that Carter had hailed.

"He'll be alright," Scott said again once all three of them were piled in the backseat, heading for the nearest hospital.

"And what if he is not?" Ilya asked. "What if he does not wake up? What if he wakes up but he cannot walk? Cannot skate? Cannot play? What then?"

"That's not gonna happen," Scott said, giving Ilya's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "He's in great condition, a little fall isn't gonna change that."

But all three of them knew that it hadn't been a little fall, and it hadn't been an accident.

"He was trying to protect me," Ilya whispered.

"Yeah, what were you guys even-" Carter began to ask why Shane had been up there at all, but was stopped short with one glance from Scott.

This wasn't the time for questions like that.

"Alexei was going to hit me, and Sh- Hollander stopped him."

"You can say his name," Scott said, trying to put himself into Ilya's shoes, to figure out what he would need if it were Kip in the ambulance, and him in Ilya's place.

Kip, who wasn't talking to him. Kip, who needed more than Scott could give, and all because of stupid rules - not even real rules, false rules imposed by people who were afraid of what they didn't understand.

Right now, those same rules were keeping Ilya from being with Shane, and it made Scott sick to his stomach.

He didn't know what it was between Hollander and Rozanov, at least not in detail, but he knew that it was something, and he knew that everyone would be better off if Ilya could be by Shane's side when he woke up.

What Scott did know? What he could tell from the way Ilya was shaking beside him, was that this man was terrified, and whether he liked Rozanov or not didn't matter right now. Shane and Ilya may not be rookies anymore, but in Scott's eyes, they were still just kids, and it was Scott's job to keep them safe, wasn't it?

The drive had been hard, but waiting in the hospital was worse.

Shane's coach arrived shortly after Ilya, Scott, and Carter, and it was him doing all of the communicating, or at least trying to.

"I can help," Ilya said, getting up, noticing the language barrier causing problems. "I speak both."

"No, you've done quite enough, son," Shane's coach snapped.

"Please," Ilya breathed. "Let me help."

Something in his tone, in his eyes, softened the coach slightly. He was pretty sure no one on planet Earth had ever heard Ilya Rozanov say "please" before. He nodded his head, letting Ilya speak to the medical professional.

"He's awake, we suspect a concussion," the doctor said. "He has a couple of cracked ribs, but luckily avoided spinal injury. He's bruised up pretty good, but in the long run, he's gonna be fine."

Ilya breathed a sigh of relief before quickly translating all he could to English.

Shane's season was over, but his career was not.

"I don't know how I'm gonna tell his parents," Coach shook his head. "Thanks, Rozanov."

"Is nothing." Ilya ducked his head. He wanted to stay, to be there when the man called Shane's family, to tell them that he was so sorry, but that Shane was going to be okay, but Scott's words rang clear in his head, and he still knew they were true.

"Any update?" Scott asked as Ilya walked back, slumping into the seat next to him.

"He will be okay," Ilya said. "Concussion, broken ribs, no back injury. Bruises, nothing that will not heal."

"Well thank god for that," Scott said with a sigh of relief.

"We should go," Ilya said, dejected, defeated. "They will not let me see him, being here will just...bring up red flags."

"I'm sorry, kid," Scott said, though he nodded in agreement.

***

Once tests were run, and doctors and nurses, swarming around him, saying things Shane couldn't understand, Shane was finally left alone.

He had been asked in broken English if he could remember what happened, and he said he couldn't. He had lied. He remembered it vividly.

He remembered the crazed look in Alexei's eyes, the way he had moved to hit Ilya, and Shane had seen red. He didn't get angry like that often, but the idea of someone hitting Ilya was a step too far. He hadn't been thinking when he had rushed the other man, and it had only been seconds before Alexei had managed to throw him down the stairs, but it had been enough. Ilya had been spared his brother's violence, so really, hadn't Shane succeeded?

It didn't feel like a victory, necessarily, because he knew what he had lost in doing so - he knew The Olympics were gone, he was done, but...if he had to do it all over again, he probably still would.

Ilya may have hard edges, and things about him that Shane didn't understand, but Shane knew that no one in his own family would ever raise a fist to him, and knowing that wasn't true for Ilya broke his heart.

God, he wanted Ilya right now. He didn't want to be alone in a Russian hospital, he didn't want to be scared, but he couldn't help it. He reached for the phone beside him and opened up his chat with "Lily".

Jane: Are you okay?

Seconds later, Shane received the fastest response he ever had from Ilya. 

Lily: I am fine, I am so sorry, I am so, so sorry.

Jane: It's okay. I just wish I could see you.

Lily: Yes. I wish I could see you, too. Get rest, and feel better, and I will see you back in Montreal.

Shane didn't reply. It hurt that someone he cared about was so close, but this place wasn't safe for them. He couldn't ask Ilya to come to this hospital, to hold him, to tell him that he was going to be alright.
 
He had to lay here, alone, and wait. It wasn't fair.

Shane lay back, staring at the ceiling, trying not to cry. He knew better now, why Ilya had been so sullen on the roof that night, why he hadn't seemed excited about going home.

Home wasn't a safe place for Ilya Rozanov, and Shane wanted to burn it to the ground.

Chapter 2: Ottawa

Chapter Summary

After his injury, Shane returns to Ottawa to recover with his parents, but Ilya remains desperate to see him in spite of the less than ideal conditions.

Chapter Notes

As soon as he was cleared to do so, Shane went back to Canada. His season was done for and he wanted to be mad about that, but he didn't have it in him. All that he could think about was Ilya, still back in Russia, trapped in a place where he wasn't safe, where he couldn't even remotely be himself.

His parents chalked their son's melancholy up to his injury, to the loss of a potential gold medal, the rest of his season with the Metros, and he let them believe that. It was easier, and when they insisted he stay in Ottawa, at home with them, until he was fully recovered, he hadn't fought them.

It would only make things worse, being by himself, so he let his father dote on him, while his mother dealt with the doctors and the physical therapy plans. He would make a full recovery, everyone was clear about that, but what was broken inside of Ilya?

Would that be so easy to fix?

Shane wasn't the type to stay in bed too much, and the lack of ability to hit the ice, the weight room, the gym in general, was killing him after the first few days. He was doing everything he could to stave off depression, not wanting to worry his parents any more than they already were.

He took a deep breath. How long had it been? Just over a week. The Olympics had ended, players had begun returning to their teams, and Shane's phone was full of unanswered condolence texts. He had shut it off after a day and had yet to turn it back on.

Anything important could go through his mother.

"No."

Shane sat up, hearing a raised voice - his mother's voice - down the hall.

"No, you cannot be here. Get off of my porch. You did this, this is your fault."

Something was wrong, and Shane couldn't just lie there and wonder.

He stood, tugging on a pair of sweats and pulling a hoodie over his bare chest, padding down the hall, barefoot, disheveled.

"Mom?" He asked. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine, I'm handling it," she said, turning, blocking the door and whoever was out there, though her expression made it clear that it was not fine.

"Please, Mrs. Hollander, I just need to see him."

Shane froze. He knew that voice. He'd know that voice anywhere.

"Let him in."

"Shane, sweetheart..."

"It's not his fault. Let him in."

Yuna sighed, but stepped aside, revealing Ilya Rozanov.

Shane had known Ilya since they were teenagers, but he wasn't sure he had ever seen Ilya look so young. He was wearing jeans and an oversize jacket, he wasn't perfectly curated the way he often was when Shane saw him outside of games.

"Mom." Shane gulped, giving her a meaningful look.

"Look, if you think I'm leaving my son with the man who-"

"It wasn't him, mom. It was his brother. He didn't do anything to me. Please."

"Fine," she threw her hands up. "But if you need anything, I'll be in the other room.”

The second she was out of the room, Ilya moved to Shane. He wanted to grab him, to hug him, but he remembered the broken ribs and he didn't want to make this worse. Instead, he placed his hand on Shane's chin, tilting the other man's gaze upwards to meet his.

"I am so sorry, Hollander."

"It's not your fault, it wasn't your fault," Shane said, feeling something inside of him release at the gentle touch.

"Why did you get involved?" Ilya asked.

"He was going to hurt you," Shane said softly. "I...I couldn't let him."

"So you let him hurt you?"

"I don't know." Shane shrugged. "I just...I wasn't really thinking."

"No, clearly not," Ilya said, though there was a tenderness in his voice that Shane wasn't sure he'd heard before.

"I'm sorry, Ilya. I didn't understand before. Your family, Russia, how dangerous this is for you."

"Is okay." Ilya looked at Shane. "So long as you are okay, is okay."

"I'm okay." Shane nodded.

"You are sure?"

"I'm sure. I'll be good as new in time for next season."

"God, Hollander." Ilya gulped, trying to push back the tears stinging at his eyes. "You weren't moving. You wouldn't wake up, I-"

Shane shut him up leaning in, kissing Ilya softly.

"I'm okay," he said again as he pulled back.

"Thank god." Ilya crumbled. He pulled Shane into his arms, gentle, careful to mind his ribs, and buried his face in Shane's neck. "It killed me. That I couldn't be at the hospital with you. Fucking Scott Hunter wouldn't let me go with you."

"He was right not to," Shane said, gripping the back of Ilya's jacket, holding tight to Ilya. "We both know that."

"Still. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to grab him and shake him and ask him why didn't he understand that you were hurt and I needed to be there."

"You're here now."

"I'm here now. Anything you need."

"Just you." Shane pulled Ilya over to the couch. "I just need you."

"Come here, Hollander." Ilya tucked himself into the corner of the couch and opened his arms so that Shane could fit against him.

"My mom is right next door," Shane said softly.

"She loves you?"

"Yeah." Shane nodded.

"Then I do not care. She will not hurt you?"

"No, never." Shane shook his head. "She might have some choice words to say if she came in and saw us like this, she’s not your biggest fan, but...we're safe here."

"Then come here."

Shane didn't want to resist...so he didn't. He curled himself against Ilya's side, letting the other man put an arm around him, his legs tucked beneath him.

"I thought I might have lost you," Ilya admitted. "A lot of things have scared me in my life. Nothing has scared me like that. Shane, you were not moving."

"I know." Shane gulped. "I'm sorry."

"Is okay." Ilya kissed the top of his head. "I did not lose you."

"No." Shane shook his head. "You didn't lose me, but Ilya...after the season is over, you can't...you can't go back to Russia."

"Yes." Ilya gulped. "I know this. I do not think I could face Alexei again, knowing what he was so willing to do to you over a mere slap. If he knew I-" Ilya stopped himself. "If my father knew? He would kill me."

Shane gulped. People used that as an exaggeration all the time, but coming out of Ilya's mouth? In this context? Shane wasn't sure it was an exaggeration at all.

"We'll figure it out," Shane said. "But...it could be nice," he added with a shrug. "Having summers together. Falling asleep together, waking up together..."

"You are going soft on me, Hollander."

"Maybe." Shane shrugged. "But I think I understand you better now."

"You feel sorry for me."

"No." Shane paused. "I'm in love with you."

Ilya didn't respond right away. He looked down at Shane, at the beautiful man in his arms, this man who had every right to be furious with him, to never speak to him again, and instead...he was telling Ilya he was loved.

Ilya curled his hand around Shane's jaw, pulling his face upwards, kissing him softly.

"I love you, too, Hollander."

"Can you stay tonight? How did you even get here?"

"I drove." Ilya shrugged. "Told coach I had family matter to attend to. I can stay."

Shane let out a deep breath and leaned against Ilya. He closed his eyes, breathing the other man in, comfortable and safe in the other man's arms. Against his will, body exhausted, still recovering, Shane fell asleep.

Ilya didn't dare move. He had seen Shane undone in a million different ways, but not this, not peaceful, vulnerable, asleep, curled into Ilya's side.

"Shane, sweetheart-"

Ilya raised a finger to his lips, indicating the sleeping Shane as Yuna came into the room.

"Oh." She looked surprised, but her gaze quickly softened. "Oh."

"Yes, hello again, Mrs. Hollander," Ilya said quietly.

"How long?" She asked softly.

"For him? I do not know. For me?" Ilya gently brushed his fingers up and down Shane's arm. "Since the first time I saw him."

"Well," Yuna hesitated. "You take good care of him, he's precious."

"Yes." Ilya held Shane just a little closer. "Is most precious thing in the world. I will take better care of him. I am sorry," he said. "I am sorry that he was hurt."

"It's okay," Yuna said. She had been so angry with Ilya when he had shown up at the door, but now everything was beginning to make sense. "His coach said you were at the hospital, that you translated."

"Was...the only thing I could do," Ilya admitted. "Anything else would not have been safe for us."

"I understand." She sighed. "This isn't going to be easy."

"I know." Ilya shrugged. "Never has been. Always worth it."

Shane stirred, but didn't wake, re-situating himself against Ilya.

"He looks so comfortable with you," Yuna mused. "I've never...seen this before."

"Yes, well," Ilya smiled gently at him. "He knows he is safe. He is at his home, he has you and your husband." He paused. "Me. Only people who love him. The rest we will figure out."

"I'll go make up the guest room," Yuna said.

"I do not think that will be necessary," Ilya admitted, gazing down at Shane.

"Maybe not," she said with a shrug. "But it's best to keep up appearances, hmm? Just in case."

God, Shane was so much like his mother, the both of them always playing 4d chess.

"Okay." Ilya nodded. "For now I am going to take this one to bed," he said. "It's..."

"Down the hall, third door on the right," she explained.

Ilya nodded and did his best to lift Shane without waking him, a difficult task, once he factored in the young man's tender, healing ribs.

Still, Ilya was strong, and he carried Shane back to his bedroom. It was...immaculate, as Ilya was sure it would have been. Shelves of trophies stacked neatly, medals hanging from hooks in the walls - the bedroom of a champion.

"Showoff," Ilya whispered as he set Shane down on the bed, pulling the blankets around him.

"Mmm," Shane stirred, reaching for Ilya.

"Go back to sleep," Ilya whispered.

"C'mere."

"Okay."

Ilya kicked off his shoes and slid out of his jacket, crawling into the bed next to Shane, jeans and all.

They had never gone to bed together, not like this. They had never even cuddled, not with clothes on, and Shane couldn't deny how good it felt to have Ilya's arms wrap around him.

"I love you, Shane," Ilya whispered, kissing Shane's jaw, just below his ear.

"I love you, too, Ilya," Shane replied.

Ilya smiled, settling in, snuggling under the covers, with Shane in his arms.

Maybe he hadn't been able to keep Shane safe in Sochi, but he would never, ever let someone hurt Shane again.

Not if there was a damn thing he could do about it. Shane loved him, Shane had protected him, and now?

Now it was his turn to do the same.

Chapter End Notes

As always, thanks for reading! I Am looking forward to writing more of these two!