Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Tanner Dillon, Brandon Wiebe

Additional Tags:

post-TLG, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Alternate Reality, alternative reality, Alternate Ending, Alternate ending to TLG, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander gets what he deserves, Ilya Rozanov slightly depressed but working through it, Justice for Tanner Dillon, but not really, Shane Hollander is the GOAT of hockey

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-08-27 Words: 2,468 Chapters: 1/1

Tanner Dillon's line mate

Summary

Tanner Dillon was a sub-par winger for a cup-winning team. Ilya would never admit it, but Shane needed a Pike if they wanted their first season together to be historic. The only problem was that there seemed to be no problem.

Because how the hell did Shane make Tanner Dillon into a good liney?

Ilya Rozanov spirals slightly as he finally gets to see Captain Shane Hollander in action. Don't worry they are cute and flirty about it.

Notes

This was inspired by a lot of tumblr posts about Shane's not-so-happy ending in TLG. I admit when I first read the book I did so in one day and was a bit confused at the rushed ending.

I found myself fascinated by the discourse around how good players can be good for different reasons. We don't really get a lot of insight into Shane as three-time champion, or how he got back-to-back cups, so this little ficlet opens up those questions.

Feel free to let me know in the comments if you want me to expand this.

Ilya knew Dillon was a sub-par winger for a cup-winning team. The Centaurs weren't a cup-winning team yet, but if they wanted to be Shane needed someone he clicked with. Ilya would never admit it, but Shane needed a Pike.

At least, that was what he had thought before the season began. Their first together, married and co-captains. The season needed to be one for the history books. They had to prove the homophobic, racist haters wrong. Shane Hollander was not just the guy who tripped for his boyfriend. He was a force to be reckoned with. Ilya had to make sure Shane didn't regret everything. He had to make sure Shane loved playing hockey not just on Ilya's team, but on a different line, a new line.

It had to be perfect, and Tanner Dillon was not that.

Ilya thought he knew how Shane played hockey. He had observed him for years, even played with him once. But they had never been together like this. Playing on the same team, on different lines, made him doubt everything he knew.

Because how the hell did Shane make Tanner Dillon a good winger, seemingly without even trying?

At practice and during the preseason, it looked like a miracle, even Weibe said so. Shane just clicked well with Dillon. It didn't make sense. They didn't appear to have much in common. They had barely spoken together!

Luca Haas, Ilya could understand Shane clicking with. The younger player was a good strategist, like Shane, and he was fast. They instantly bonded over their knowledge of hockey history.

The idea that Shane could click in the same way with Tanner Dillon was impossible.

Their first game of the season proved that nothing was impossible. Even though Dillon didn't execute plays perfectly, Shane always found him, always caught a pass that Ilya thought was too slow or too early. There were growing pains, Ilya could tell, but that there was even somewhere to grow was surprising!

Dillon even scored a fucking goal on Shane's assist. He looked as surprised as Ilya felt.

He didn't want to ask Shane about it. He didn't want to jinx it, or imply that he was surprised Shane could make a mediocre player better. He was not jealous, he was pretty sure, he was just confused. Tanner Dillon looked like he belonged next to Shane Hollander. How was that possible? He had certainly never belonged on Ilya's line. Until Barrett got traded Ilya had been beyond frustrated.

After a couple of games, suddenly, Shane and Dillon's game seemed to collapse. Dillon missed shots more frequently, and he seemed to get lost on the way to the goal. Shane became visibly frustrated. Ilya thought the first few games were a fluke. This made more sense. This was fixable. He just needed to convince Shane to put their collective weight behind finding someone else.

When he brought it up to Shane, however, the idea was dismissed.

"I'm handling it."

After another disastrous practice, Ilya was ready to ask Weibe to do something about it himself, but he knew he could risk Shane's position if he did.

Their co-captaincy was unusual, but not unprecedented. Shane's reputation had taken such a hit after "tripgate" that Ilya wanted there to be no doubt to the world how valuable Shane Hollander was to the organization. Ilya knew Shane was stressing over rebuilding his credibility. Their PR reps were shielding them from the worst of the media, but it was still a constant wave of idiocy.

So, he needed to let Shane handle his line. He was packing up to leave when he noticed Shane's stuff was still in his locker, which meant Shane was somewhere else and not waiting for him by the car. Maybe he was already handling it?

Ilya found himself walking through to the meeting rooms, listening intensely. He knew it was wrong, but he told himself he was just looking for Shane to see if he was ready to head home. If he accidentally heard something, it wasn't like it was a secret from him for long.

"You're a good player, Tanner," Shane's voice drifted through one of the doors. Ilya pressed his ear to it, trying not to scoff at the sentiment.

"Don't fucking sugarcoat it, just fucking give me my marching orders."

"Hey, we want this to be a constructive discussion," Weibe said. "Hollander wants the line to work as is."

"Really?"

"It did work. We had a great season opening. We need to get back to it."

"How?"

"I need you to stop thinking so much," Shane said, kindly but firmly. "Stop thinking where I need you, stop trying too hard to anticipate. Just play like you always play, all right? Don't try and work with me, just let me work with you."

"You want me to... just play?"

"Yeah, just play. Don't get in your own head." There was a long pause as Dillon was clearly taking in the words. "I need to learn your style, so we can find what works for us, but I can't do that if you're trying to match me."

"Right, cause I'm slowing you down!"

"No- well, you could be faster, but that's something you can work on! Focus on getting faster, stronger, focus on your shot. But on the ice, I'll be there, ok? Just trust that I'll be there."

"I... ok. I just want to- I mean, I'm trying."

"Don't try, just play."

"Right."

"We can do this, Dillon," Shane sounded animated, sincere, the way Ilya loved hearing him. "We do our jobs, we focus, and the way I see it our only real competition is the first line, and I intend to beat Rozanov in the scoring race." Ilya grinned, excited about that prospect.

"Ok, hell yeah."

Ilya retreated when he heard Wiebe start talking about support and teamwork. He did not tell Shane about what he overheard. He found himself oddly proud and a little ashamed. Had he really doubted Shane couldn't make anyone look like a fucking hockey star next to Shane fucking Hollander?

He needed to start respecting his three-time, cup-winning, captain husband.

----

As the season progressed, it became very clear that Dillon had taken the "just play" advice to heart. With Luca Haas on Shane's other side, who read Shane's mind like Ilya did, the second line was becoming ridiculously good. Fans were more than ever ready for them to win the cup, and they cheered for their hometown hero louder and louder every game.

They all played some seriously good hockey.

Except when things just didn't work, and a game just felt off from the start. It started with a game against Boston, and then they had trouble against Jersey. Ilya started feeling like they were slipping. He felt the pressure increase. They had to win this season. It was their only shot.

They lost against the Admirals. Shane scored, but not Ilya.

The team went out to the Kingfisher, and maybe Ilya wasn't in the best mood already. Maybe he was jealous. Maybe Shane was the better captain. Maybe Ilya shouldn't be dragging him down, turning Montreal against him, making his life so much more complicated. When was the last time a team had co-captains anyway? Ilya should step down.

"Hey," Shane nudged his shoulder against Ilya's. Scott had just gone to get more drinks. Most of the team were chatting at the bar or in different booths. "Talk to me."

"It's nothing. Is just a grey day." His brain was messing with him because when he looked at Shane, comfortable by his side in a gay bar, his beautiful husband, what on earth did he have to be sad about?

"Hey, it's a team sport, right? We're going to lose a few."

"I know."

Shane looked around the bar, taking a sip of his ale, clearly considering how to word his next words, or maybe not wanting to say it.

"Tell me," Ilya said. Shane frowned at him. "Go on, give me advice. Tell me how to fix my game."

"Ilya, you don't need my advice," Shane almost scoffed at the idea, but Ilya felt maybe he needed it more than anything. Why the fuck should Tanner Dillon get advice and not him? Sure, they teased each other and picked apart games, but had they ever given each other advice on their own playing?

"Tell me," Ilya insisted. "What am I doing wrong?"

"Ilya," Shane sighed. "Nothing, sometimes a game just doesn't go the way you want."

"We are co-captains. That means you are my captain and I am yours. Is this what you would say to a player who came to you for advice?"

Shane sighed long and hard, fiddling with his label. Ilya glanced around them. Scott and Kip were flirting, probably doing that "let's pretend to be strangers" bullshit they liked so much. Maybe Shane and Ilya gave off an aura of "don't approach" because no one so much as looked at them.

"I think," Shane finally said, drawing Ilya's eyes. "You need to focus on the play, not the game."

"You think I'm distracted?"

"I think you feel the weight of the entire game for every play. As captain of course you think about everything, I do too, but when you're on the ice, you can't let it get to you." Ilya knew this, he had known it since his rookie season, yet did he really practice it? Somehow, Shane did.

"So, you just," Ilya waved his hand, "don't think about the game?"

"Not when I'm on the ice," Shane said. "When I play I don't really think at all."

"Nothing?" Tanner Dillon really had gotten the good advice.

"Yeah," Shane shrugged. "I mean, don't we all get into that flow state? When you do the play before you even really think it? When you take the shot before you consciously see the gap?"

"Yes. I have that sometimes," Ilya said. "But... maybe sometimes it's not so easy."

"It can be difficult," Shane agreed. "I can't always do it."

Ilya thought about Shane getting back to back cups. How had he maintained it?

"What do you do, to focus?"

"I just tell myself that when my skate hits the ice, the only thing that exists is the next play." Shane said, a smile tugging. "Yoga helps." Ilya groaned dramatically.

"You are not making me do yoga."

"My first coach taught me a lot about focus. Not just with your mind, but your whole body. As a kid I had problems with all the noise and other players. I kept stopping if something distracted me, like a chirp. So I had to work on focus a lot, being in the moment."

Ilya nodded, trying to imagine a tiny Shane stopping short at some stupid kid's chirp, his face scrunched up in confusion.

"Is this really just about a grey day?"

"Hmmm?"

"I don't think this is something you need me to tell you," Shane said gently. "So, why are you asking me for rookie advice?"

"You made Tanner Dillon a good winger."

"What?"

"I could not," Ilya admitted, the true cause of his shame.

"That's-" Shane's face scrunched up in confusion just like Ilya had imagined. "So what? Lots of players don't click."

"But you did."

"Yeah, but-..." Shane struggled to explain the discrepancy between them. "That's not something I can do with anyone."

"But with most, I think," Ilya said. "You skate around them. You make their bad playing good by just fucking playing circles around them."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"It is. Dillon would be on shit team now if you had not 'clicked'. But you clicked with him, and he didn't do shit."

Shane opened his mouth to argue, but then fell silent for a moment, probably looking for another excuse. He looked at Ilya, shrugged and said. "Ok, maybe. So what?" When Ilya just stared at him, he continued. "You hate that I did one thing you couldn't do? That my playing style is more adaptable? Does it bother you that much?"

"No, no," Ilya denied, maybe not entirely truthfully. He looked at Shane, trying to imagine what Shane was looking at. His husband, the guy who had dragged him onto a team that still needed fixing. Shane looked at this guy with only concern. He was going to get a crease in his forehead soon, between his eyebrows, from all the frowning Ilya made him do. "You are an amazing captain."

"... thanks, you too."

"You think so?"

"Fishing for compliments?" Shane smiled, leaning in so their shoulders touched. "This team is amazing, Ilya. It was amazing before I came here. They had a pretty good captain then too."

"Pretty good?"

"Pretty and good."

"Don't flirt with your captain."

"I'm flirting with my husband." Shane reached over under the table and laced their fingers together. Ilya had to look away for a moment, caught off guard at his emotional reaction. "It's a really grey day, huh?"

"Yes, sorry."

"No sorry's," Shane said gently. "I love the way you captain this team. You see them like no one else can. They might respect me, but they love you."

"No, they love you too."

"Maybe, maybe one day. I don't know if I can allow myself to love a team again," Shane said quietly, and Ilya kicked himself for not having foreseen that reaction. He squeezed Shane's hand and got a squeeze and a smile back. "You feel the weight of every single player, Ilya. That's what makes you good. If you honestly want my advice for your game." Ilya nodded quickly. "We should practice leaving the weight on the bench. It's not helping the game by you carrying it on the ice."

"So... you will make me do yoga?"

"It won't kill you to try it."

"Ugh, Hollander, I will die of boredom!"

"Fine, ignore my advice." Shane let go of Ilya's hand and returned to his ginger ale, though Ilya could tell he wasn't being serious.

"Fine, Hollander. I will follow my captain's orders." The words had the predicted effect. He could physically see the way desire shot through Shane's whole body.

"Well," Shane said, voice a bit unsteady. "I think curfew's coming up soon, so as captains we should set a good example and head back."

"Yes, yes, we are both very good captains."

"We are."

They left in a hurry, with no small amount of teasing following them.

Ilya would sometimes still feel the weight and think bad thoughts about Shane leaving him for a better player or other such nonsense, but when he watched his husband play, he reminded himself that the best fucking hockey player in the league chose him because no one else could be his equal.