Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Gen

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais & Shane Hollander

Characters:

Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Shane Hollander, Hayden Pike, Theriault (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Homophobic Language, Homophobia, Racism, Misogyny, toxic workplace, Verbal Abuse, Coming Out

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-13 Words: 852 Chapters: 1/1

Old Fashioned

Summary

The phrase old fashioned is used to excuse a lot of sins. A study of a toxic work environment fostered by Coach Theriault as seen through J. J.’s eyes.
CW – for profane and homophobic language, verbal abuse from someone in authority

• Inspired by #theriaultyoudisgustme by 7ate9

“Theriault is old fashioned, but he’s effective,” the GM said in a 2015 interview. “We think his results speak for themselves.”  The Metros had just won the conference finals when accusations of sexism went from behind-the-scenes whispers to direct accusations. “I understand Ms. Wilson’s frustrations, but I hardly think being asked to make coffee is evidence of discrimination. The hiring team simply felt that Lucas was a better fit for head of PR.”

2018 – Preseason - Montreal

J.J. walked down the hall that led to Coach’s office, even though it was the long way to the locker room. His stomach churned and chills washed over him. He had every right to be there, but some days, that didn’t matter.

“Fucking slob!” Theriault shouted. J. J. ducked as a roll of tape flew past his head. “Maybe if you showed some fucking discipline in the locker room, we would see some better goddamn plays from you on the ice!”

His mind went blank as he tried to tamp down his fury. Hayden settled a hand on his shoulder, calm in the face of Theriault’s rage. “Coach, I have a few thoughts on how we can tighten things up before we face New York on Thursday. I’ll talk through them with Shane, and we can review them before the meeting in the morning.”

Something crashed into the closed door, rattling it against the frame. J. J. flinched, then glanced up and down the hall. He was alone. He let out a breath, slowly.

When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he pulled it out to check the message. “Let us know how it goes, bud.” He could practically hear Hayden’s affable tone through their group chat. He shook his head and put the phone away.

“Fucking cocksuckers! Don’t see why we need to do a goddamn Pride night when they already get a two-week festival every summer!” Theriault snarled, throwing down the mock-up of their Pride jersey.

“It’s all about optics,” Lucas reminded him. “We can’t be seen as unsupportive, not in Montreal!”

“Because nobody wants to share the room with a goddamn faggot!” Theriault’s words were barely muffled by the door, and J. J. curled his hands into fists. “So, you’re gonna keep your filthy mouth shut and do your fucking job!”

J. J. squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could burst into that room and put himself between the threat and his captain like he did on the ice. He didn’t know who had convinced Shane to come out to the team, but they clearly didn’t understand the Montreal Metros. Even Hayden had tried to talk Shane into waiting, but once he locked onto a plan, there was no changing his mind.

“Because my team captain is fucking off to Russia instead of running practices and getting us ready for the playoffs!” Theriault spat at his assistant.

“Hollander’s always been clear about wanting to represent Canada in the games one day.” It was a weak attempt to mollify their coach mid-practice, and it utterly failed.

“Well, he should have given that shit up! Let a real Canadian go to the Olympics!” Theriault spun around, spotting J. J. “Boiziau, get your lazy ass in gear! You’ll run that play until I say it’s perfect!”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Hollander!” Something else flew into the door and clattered when it hit the floor. “I don’t give a fuck what Hunter says about it. The Admirals can suck each other off between periods and bend their captain over after games. That shit won’t fly here! I won’t have your pansy ass bullshit distracting the team.”

J. J.’s eyes stung, and his breath shuddered as he exhaled. From the far end of the hall, he heard footsteps. He crossed his arms and clenched his jaw, leaning against the wall.

The assistant coach avoided J. J.’s gaze, keeping his eyes straight as he walked past Theriault’s office. The shouting had died down. Coach’s voice was still audibly angry, but his words were unintelligible.

J. J. pulled his phone out and replied to Hayden. “I think the meeting with Coach is wrapping up. Will you be done with PT in time for us to go to lunch? Might be nice to get out of here for a little while.”

The door finally opened, and Shane stepped out. His face was flushed, and his eyes were glassy. Beyond him, Theriault fumed, twisting his coffee mug in his hand like it might be the next thing to fly.

 Shane closed the door behind him and drew in a shaky breath. J. J. fell into step with Shane as they walked away from the office. They turned the corner, and J. J. slung an arm around Shane’s shoulders as they passed a conference room. He felt it as Shane finally relaxed under the weight of his support.

He met J. J.’s eyes with a wobbly attempt at a smile. “That could have gone better.”

“Mon Capitaine,” J. J. started, not sure what he could say.

“It’s fine, J. J.” Shane shook his head. “He’s just old fashioned.”