Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Kip Grady/Scott Hunter

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Troy Barrett, Harris Drover, Evan Dykstra, Zane Boodram, Brandon Wiebe, Hayden Pike, Cliff Marlow, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Kip Grady, Eric Bennett, Nick Chouinard

Additional Tags:

Relationship Reveal, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, 5+1 Things, Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers), Spoilers for The Long Game, no beta we die like shane's heterosexuality, POV Ilya Rozanov, since rookie season reveal

Language:

English

Series:

Part 5 of HR Alternate Relationship Reveals

Collections:

My Close and Personal Friends Shane and Ilya, hollanov for the heart <3, My favs to reread someday, Hollanov 🥰, HollaNov fanfics I Love, My heart is full, so obsessed i might actually watch hockey, Relationship Reveal HR, *Heated rivalry melts my heart*, pepperroxd’s library, The best pairings to bask in, No thoughts just gay hockey, Hollanov Hall of Fame, RainyBugs_BestHugs, 🏒hollanov🥅, for my beloved

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-28 Completed: 2026-02-22 Words: 17,470 Chapters: 4/4

but daddy i love him

Summary

“I told you. Hollander and I, we are in love. He is my hockey player.” Ilya wiggled his eyebrows at the joke, but couldn’t keep himself from watching Scott Hunter.
“Sure, Roz. You and Hollander are in love, want to get married, spend the rest of your lives playing hockey together.” When Ilya didn’t immediately reply to that very accurate statement, Hunter continued: “If you two are in love, I’m straight. That’s how likely that is.” He had laughed and skated away, though Ilya really hadn’t understood what was supposed to be funny about that.
Standing alone on the ice, the crowd slowly filing out of the rink, Ilya was faced with a startling realization: telling people may be harder than he thought.
or
What if Shane gave Ilya permission to soft launch their relationship. Ilya is, of course, thrilled and immediately starts telling everyone around him. Problem is, no one believes him!

Notes

Hello my lovelys!
lampalot7 left a brilliant comment on my last fic and it infected me. I could not sleep, eat, think until I could put this into words.
This roughly starts after their big fight in TLG but before Shane proposes. Then I get a bit messy with canon so don't think about things too hard.
The title is from Taylor Swift obvi - here I am again with my Swiftie Ilya Rozanov headcanon :)
Also, new! If you want to listen to the music I listened to while writing this + my other relationship reveals, check out the series description for a spotify link.
Please ignore any hockey mistakes and let me know about any spelling mistakes!!
Also this work has been translated by CreateWorldsWithWords into Russian! https://ficbook.net/readfic/019c0b3b-1001-78e9-8212-9c17fdaaa7f8

Chapter 1: now i'm running with my dress unbuttoned

Chapter Notes

“You can tell people.” came the sleepy mumble from under Ilya’s arm. He was cuddled up with Shane on the couch, the Boston Game on their TV.

Ilya hadn’t been really paying attention, too busy watching Cliff miss a goal. “Hm?”

Shane had stiffened at the hum. “You can. Tell some people.” The uptake in the rhythm of his breathing tore Ilya’s face away from the screen.

“Tell people? Shane, sweetheart, what are you talking about?” Ilya felt his own heart rate begin to pick up. He couldn’t mean-? No. Surely not.

“I mean. It’s a bit unfair. I’m sorry I didn’t see it til now.” Ilya tried to shift so that he could see Shane’s face but his face remained stubbornly pressed against his side. 

“What unfair?” Ilya’s brain was scrambling. Snippets of their big fight playing through his head. The words, screamed at each other. The first time he had heard Shane raise his voice at him and mean it. Shane leaving. Shane coming back. It had been an emotional few weeks.

“I have people who know.” Shane spoke slowly. “About us.” His fingers tickled as they grasped tighter at Ilya’s waist but Ilya barely felt it. He barely breathed, afraid if he startled Shane now, he’d never hear the end of this conversation.

“And I should tell people?” Ilya repeated the original sentence dumbly. 

There was a wet, crackling breath at his side. A faint sense of moisture was beginning to soak through his t-shirt. 

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been so selfish.” 

Ilya felt like he had stepped outside of his body for a moment. Like he was floating over their couch. What was going on?

“You deserve to have people know, too.” Shane continued, “People who know about us. On your side.”

Ilya didn’t know what to say. What he could say. But he had to say something.

“I do. I have you.” His own voice sounded foreign to his own ears. So high, disbelieving. 

He felt Shane shake his head against his shoulder. “No, that’s not the same. You deserve people too. Not just me.”

“What?” Ilya knew how difficult it must be for Shane to get out the words but he needed it.

“Do you not want to tell people?” Shane finally raised his head and Ilya was greeted with the beautiful, tear-streaked face of the love of his life.Who was apparently a little bit aggravated with him right now.

“Shane, I want to tell the entire world.” Ilya wanted to take back the words as soon as he said them. It was too soon. Too quick and fresh after their argument. 

But Shane didn’t shrink away this time. Instead, he nodded slowly, finally meeting Ilya’s eyes. “Ok.”

“Ok?” 

A brilliant blush highlighted Shane’s freckles. “Ok. But, can you start small? Maybe tell a few people we know first. Before the world?”

Ilya gazed up at him in wonder. Distantly, he felt the tears leaking from his eyes drip down his throat to mix with the moisture of his shirt. “I can tell people?” He still had to ask, again. To make sure.

Shane answering shaky grin was breathtaking. Ilya worked on remembering to breathe and function as a human being as Shane settled back down against his side, tucking his face against his shoulder.

“I can tell people.” Ilya repeated softly, feeling the words leave his lips. 

Shane huffed. “Did you not see that goal Cliff just made?”

God, Ilya loved him.

“Shane, sweetheart, I don’t care about the game right now.”

“I’m telling Cliff you said that.” 

“Good. Then I can tell him about that one time last week where I didn’t accidently hang up on him.”

“What? No!!”

(Scott Hunter)

Ilya figured, if anyone deserved to know first, about him and Shane, it was Scott Hunter. It was the proper, respectful thing to do. Honor your gay elders and all that jazz.

The problem was, Ilya couldn’t just call him up and drop that information on him like that. There was too high a possibility it would come off as if he was actually thankful for Hunter. Would show how much it really meant to him that he’d finally got his head out of his ass and kissed Kip on the ice. In front of the whole world. How he had changed the hockey world. That ran the risk of revealing how afraid he was of the truth. How Ilya may have never gotten to have this life with Shane if it hadn’t been for Hunter. 

Ilya would rather retire and become a hermit at the cottage than acknowledge Scott Hunter in that regard. (Hermit was a new word David had taught him last week - Ilya thought it described Shane perfectly in the summer months. Shane had not found that so funny.)

Still, the chance to tell Hunter stood clear on the horizon. Their next home game was against New York. With the Centaurs playing better than ever, Ilya was itching for it. A chance to beat Hunter again. To win in Ottawa for once.

Really the question remained if he should bring up Shane before or after the game. Given that Hunter was bound to be very boring and his more interesting other half was most likely too busy in grad school to make the trek out to Ottawa, Ilya heavily doubted he’d be seeing much of Hunter after the game. 

When he had lamented (whined) to Shane, the love of his life had just looked at him confused. “You can just tell him? Didn’t you talk to him after that cup kiss anyway? It’d hardly be a surprise?”

Ilya loved Shane, dearly. He would cut off his left arm for Shane. He would not “just tell Scott Hunter” for Shane.

The next person he asked was Yuna. He loved Yuna Hollander. He adored Yuna Hollander. But Shane was absolutely his mother’s son. “Invite him out to lunch before the game!” She had suggested. “Tell him you have something you’d like to talk about!”

Ilya had been glad he had asked over text. He was sure the face he made at that hadn’t been polite. 

The problem of telling Scott Hunter haunted Ilya up to the start of the game. This was really becoming an issue. His number one thought during warmups should not be about another hockey player. Well, not one that wasn’t wearing the number 24 across their back.

Thankfully, the thrill and speed of the game yanked Ilya back to reality and he threw himself into the familiar motions. Hockey, at this point in his life, was as easy as breathing. His arms and legs seemed at times to move faster than his head, moving for him to steal the puck away from the Admirals.

Hockey made everything easier. On the ice, his life made sense. His brain seemed to calm down, the enormity of his thoughts from before slinking away with each push of his blades against the ice. He could just relax and play well.

Which is why when the chirp came to him as a half formed thought as he chased Hunter down the rink, Ilya couldn’t hold himself back.

“You know, I wonder if Kip would ever want to know what it like to be with real hockey player.” He bit out as he slammed into Hunter. 

The dazed glare from Hunter was gratifying. “Oh, are you offering yourself up, Rozanov?”

A breathless laugh followed Ilya across the rink as Hunter skated past him. He had gotten so much better at chirping now that he was out. Ilya would have to compliment Kip next time. Such a good influence.

It wasn’t until the second period that he got the chance again. This time, at center ice, leaning in close. “I’m not, what do you call it? Available?”

Hunter snorted. “Some girl has finally tied down Ilya Rozanov? Yeah right.”

Ilya leaned closer, eyes focused on the puck about to drop as he whispered, “Some girl? No. I’ve got real hockey player. The best hockey player.” He squeezed in a wink and had a half second to admire the confusion on Hunter’s face before he was flying across the rink with the puck.

A few minutes later, Hunter checked him against the boards. “You’re so full of bull, Rozanov.”

“Full of? No. You see, Hunter, I’m really more of the-” Ilya managed before Hunter managed a pass to his teammate and suddenly regaining control of the game became more important than discussing favorite positions with Scott Hunter.

Again, a face off in the final period. Hunter beat Ilya to the punch, talking even before Ilya had finished settling into place.

“It’s not cool to joke about fucking another hockey player.” His stern glare reminded Ilya of a teacher he’d had in grade school. Too bad such looks had never worked on him.

“No joke.” Ilya felt a slight twist as the referee skated closer. He hadn’t wanted to say this with a potential witness, but as if the ref was going to believe a word that came out of his mouth on the ice. They knew him too well after his season with the Centaurs.

“Oh, so you’re really fucking the best player in the league?” Hunter’s sarcastic reply was quieter but still full of mocking.

Ilya felt a manic grin take over his face. Well, this was one way of telling Hunter. 

“Yes. Shane Hollander, have you heard of him?”

Needless to say, he won that face off too.

It wasn’t until the two teams lined up to shake hands at the end of the game (that the Centaurs had won, thank you very much) that Ilya had the chance to exchange more than two sentences with Scott Hunter.

“You’re an asshole, Rozanov.” Hunter started, but he shook Ilya’s hand steadily. “I’ll never understand how Holly is friends with you.”

Ilya used their joined hands to slide slightly closer, keeping his voice low, “I told you. Hollander and I, we are in love. He is my hockey player.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the joke, but couldn’t keep himself from watching Hunter.

The eye roll almost made him protest, but it was what Hunter said that really confused him.

“Sure, Roz. You and Hollander are in love, want to get married, spend the rest of your lives playing hockey together.”

When Ilya didn’t immediately reply to that very accurate statement, Hunter continued: “If you two are in love, I’m straight. That’s how likely that is.” He had laughed and skated away, though Ilya really hadn’t understood what was supposed to be funny about that. 

Standing alone on the ice, the crowd slowly filing out of the rink, Ilya was faced with a startling realization: telling people may be harder than he thought. 

(Wyatt Hayes)

Ilya figured maybe he should try someone a bit easier. Someone who knows him a bit better than Scott Hunter. Someone who knows him and Shane not just as rivals.

Which didn’t really leave a lot of people, to be honest. Or, really, it left a very specific group of people. The Ottawa Centaurs.

Ilya loved his team. There was hardly a day he regretted the move to Ottawa, and while a large part of that had to do with a certain Hollander family, an only slightly smaller part was his new teammates.

The question was how to tell them. After the whole endeavour with Scott Hunter, Ilya made himself think this through this time. Maybe he could start by officially coming out to more of the team than just Troy Barrett? Ease them into it before he introduced the Shane Hollander of it all.

The upcoming pride night seemed to be the perfect opportunity. 

Ottawa loved their pride night, the fans going even crazier after Barrett coming out last year. Ilya figured Barrett had deserved this past year of love. Now the man could share it.

Ilya spent weeks picking out the perfect suit before the game. He had truly underestimated how difficult it was to find a purple suit jacket that wasn’t obnoxious or blue pants that matched the pink of his silk button up. When he had done the final reveal the weekend before the game, dressing up just for Shane, he’d been quite proud of his creation. He’d been even more proud it had caused such a reaction out of Shane. He had to get the suit dry cleaned, again, before the game.

It was only when they were laying, sweaty and tangled together, that Shane had asked, “When did you decide to start wearing so much color?”

Ilya had propped himself up on one elbow and shot his fiance a look. “Color? Shane, I am flag.” 

At Shane’s adorable scrunched brow, Ilya had pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of the bisexual flag. Shane’s reaction after that realization had also been very fun.

Now, strutting into the Centaurs arena, Ilya grinned as he blinked through the flashes of cameras. He’d have to send Shane the best ones later. Especially the ones from behind. His ass looked amazing in these pants.

“God damn, Rozy.” Bood whistled from across the locker room. “Leave some cool for the rest of us.”

“Looking good, Roz.” Dykstra whoop followed.

Ilya blew them a kiss before he stopped in front of his locker. He pretended to not feel the weight of Barrett’s eyes on him as he placed his bag down. 

“You can’t let me have this one fucking thing, can you Roz?” Barrett’s eyes were wide as he leaned in to lightly shove Ilya with his shoulder.

“Your thing?” Ilya turned back around to face the locker room, catching a few of his teammates watching him and Barrett inquisitely. “I am not thief.” He raised his voice, sweeping a hand over to gesture at Barrett. “You see this? This bullying? Barrett is sad I am stealing his thunderstorm.”

“It’s just thunder-” Barrett started but Ilya cut him off. 

“I steal nothing. Barratt can have his gay thing. Yes, woohoo, we celebrate him.” He paused to let the cheers from their teammates rain down on them. “But you also celebrate me and my bisexual thing.” There was a short moment of stifled silence and Ilya watched the words sink in. 

Then cheering, louder than before. Ilya was immediately greeted with the blur of Bood jumping into his arms, hollering “Ilya Rozanov, the man for all the people!” He was pulled into hug after hug, which he had sure each time to look over and catch Barrett’s eye. Sometimes he stuck out his tongue. 

After minutes of loud noise, the volume in the room finally lowered for Ilya to process questions again.

“God, this is so cool. Beautiful idea with the suit.” Wyatt Hayes was rambling next to him as they finally got around to changing for the game. “This really opens you up for all possibilities, huh? Have anyone special in mind?” 

Ilya, fresh off the high from the love of his teammates, couldn’t stop himself. “My boyfriend, Shane Hollander.”

Like Hunter, Hayes laughed. “That a boy, Rozy. Dream big.”

Ilya ran over the words twice in his mind before he made himself ask, “Dream?”

“Sure. I get it. Hollander’s a babe. Perfect crush material.” This earned a few more cheers in agreement from their teammates.

“Crush? I don’t have crush. Russians do not do this.” Ilya could feel the same struggle unfolding before him.

Wyatt reached over and laid a hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Rozy. We’ve all been there.” 

“No.” Ilya said as multiple of his beloved teammates nodded in agreement. “Shane is mine.”

Instead of shock and thousands of questions, there was laughter. Wyatt squeezed his shoulder. “Manifest it.” 

Ilya had to look that up later. And then had Shane explain it to him. And then had to listen to Shane laugh at his misfortune. 

(Cliff Marlow)

Ilya had always loved playing in Boston. Even now, as the entire stadium booed his entrance, Ilya felt his blood buzzing in his veins.

The city for sure hated him now. They had been burning his old jersey as he had walked into the stadium. He had stopped to take a selfie to send to Shane and post on his Instagram story. He knew Harris would love that.

It was fun playing against his former teammates too. The team had changed slightly since his days but the core players, the men he knew in and out, were still there. Most of them probably hated him too. Ilya didn't have the chance to interact with most of them off the ice anymore, but the fresh bruises he always sported after their games told him enough.

Cliff Marlow was the only one who remained cool. They still texted occasionally and went out for drinks when they were in the same city.

Ilya figured Cliff might get it. Sure, Scott Hunter was an old senile man and apparently had a broken gaydar (another word Ilya had learned recently from Instagram). And sure, maybe he could understand why his team, who he joked with constantly, wouldn't immediately believe him, but Marlow was different. Ilya knew where he could start with him.

He really had some explaining to do. But at least with Marlow he had proof. (The fact that he apparently needed proof that he was dating Shane was baffling). 

So Ilya just had to stick to his plan and this time he would go slowly. Really lay things out for Marlow.

After a fast paced game, where the Centaurs lost but at least Ilya had scored a hat trick, he was excited to meet up at Marlow's favorite bar afterwards.

“You sure know how to pick them.” Marlow gestured to Bood, Dykstra and Hayes singing on the karaoke stage. Very badly. In fact, Ilya was sure he should use a word other than ‘singing’ to describe what was happening in front of him. 

“Pick who?” Ilya fought back a full body cringe as Bood attempted a high note. Usually this bar was a lot of fun. Marlow never made him sing, though they often ended up on the stage after a few drinks. But there weren't usually three other hockey players who had tagged along with Ilya, following him like a lost duckling. Whichever one of them had decided a Rihanna song was a feasible pick was going to be staying late at the next practice for making Ilya deal with this. 

Marlow gestered with his hand holding the mostly empty beer. “They seem great. Not half bad on ice, either.”

Ilya felt the warmth of the compliment sink into him. They were already on their third drinks and he was beginning to feel sappy. Maybe this would be it.

“I know. They are good. I have good taste.” He struggled through muddy thoughts for a moment. “You know that.” Was all he could come up with in English. 

“Life been treating you well, Roz?” Marlow leaned in closer, further away from the chaos on stage.

Ilya nodded, brain whirling. How to bring this up? “Yes, it's not Boston, but Ottawa is also good.” Better, but he couldn't tell Marlow that. Wait, yes he could. That was the whole point of tonight.

Before he could backtrack, “You surviving without Jane?” came the teasing remark from Marlow. 

Ilya sat up much too quickly. Here, here was his chance. “Jane? Jane is good. We are good.”

Marlow raised an eyebrow. “Ya'll are still doing the couple times a season thing? Jeez, it's been years at this point.”

Over ten years, yes. Ilya shook his head. “No. Well, yes.” He forced himself to take a deep breath. To slow down. “We are together. Like, for real.” He pulled out his necklace from where it was tucked under his shirt and ran his thumb over the ring strung on it.

“Holy shit.” Marlow stared back at him, the multicolored lights shadowing half of his face in a rainbow of colors.

“We are still long distance, sometimes. During season.” Ilya paused, waiting. Taking his time. 

“That's rough dude. But holy fuck, engaged? Roz. This is amazing.” Marlow reached out and pulled him into an awkward half hug over the bar table. “And to think, I've never even met her.”

Ilya felt a chill. Yet, he forced himself to still say. “Yes you have. Met.”

Marlow pulled back and Ilya was treated to an up close look of his very confused face. “Roz, you have never introduced me to Jane.”

Ilya couldn't help the nervous giggle. “No. You right. But you know Jane.” Now here was the difficult part. “Jane is not Jane.”

“Roz, what?” The song changed in the background, this time his drunk teammates attempting a Katy Perry song. 

“Jane's name is not Jane. That fake.” 

Marlow took a sip of his drink before asking, “Why didn't you just tell me her name then?”

Ilya's cheeks grew warm. “It secret. Us. The relationship. No one was supposed to know.”

“Wow.” Marlow leaned back. “Why would it be a secret? You’re Ilya Rozanov!”

“Yes. That why.” Ilya twisted his fingers together. “Our jobs would not be happy.”

“Your jobs? Hockey? And whatever the hell she does?”

“Jane also has hockey problem.” A deep breath, then, “Hockey would be fine with Ilya Rozanov dating Jane. Dating her. But Jane is not her. Hockey would not be fine with Ilya Rozanov dating him.”

Ilya counted his breaths as he watched Marlow blink slowly. “Shit, Roz. That's not fair.” A breath, and then Ilya was being pulled back into Marlow's arms. 

“No, no it not fair.” Ilya breathed into Marlow's neck. 

His former teammate squeezed him once more, tight, then pulled back. “Wait, does Jane work for Montreal?”

Ilya couldn't help the slightly manic laughter that escaped him. “Yes.”

Marlow's answering hoot of laughter washed over him. “Oh lord. Yeah. Hockey really won't like that.” It took a long moment before the two of them could stop laughing. “Roz, thank you for telling me. About him.”

Ilya waited a further moment, “No questions?”

“Jesus Roz, give me a minute. I'm having to rewrite years of interactions in my head here.” Marlow finished his beer but didn't make a move to grab another one. “With this whole thing being secret, I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me something you both wouldn't be comfortable with.”

Ilya nodded slowly. “It was his idea. That I tell people. People who I trust.”

“Jesus. How long is this going to remain a secret to everyone else then?” Marlow's gaze was so pitiful it made Ilya feel sick.

“We will tell people. The world. At some point.” Ilya was quick to protest. “This is start.”

“Woah, hey. I didn't mean it that way. Just, Roz, jesus. This is a lot.” 

Ilya had a fleeting thought that it was about to get “a lot” more. “Shane said the same thing. Is the reason this is secret.”

“Shane? Hollander? Shit, he knows about this too?”

Ilya pressed his hand tight against his leg. Here it goes. “Shane is him. Jane.”

“Shane is friends with Jane? I mean, yeah, if Jane works for Montreal, he's bound to know Hollander.” 

“Shane is Jane.” Ilya didn't know how he could say this any clearer. Distinctly he heard the cheering as his teammates finally exited the stage. He had maybe twenty seconds to finish this.

“Sure. Secrecy. I get it.” Marlow was nodding. “Look man, you don't have to tell me who he is.”

Ilya could hear Bood’s laughter getting closer. How was Marlow not getting this? “I am telling you secret. This whole time it's been Shane.”

“Roz, it's nice Hollander's been able to help you keep this secret all these years. That's a real, decent thing of him to do.”

“Marlow. I love Shane.” Ilya was back to whispering, his teammates seconds away.

“Yeah, he's a good guy.” Marlow was nodding along, like he and Ilya were in agreement here. 

Ilya could barely hold back a scream. How difficult was this supposed to be? Was this somehow payback for all the years of lying to all those around him? Or was it really just that impossible to believe that he and Shane could be anything other than rivals?

And then Bood, Hayes and Dykstra were there, loud and joyous and drunk. Marlow nodded once more at Ilya and mimed zipping his lips, yet all Ilya wanted was the opposite of that.

He needed another drink.

(Instagram)

After three attempts and three absolute fails, the normal person would give up. Ilya Rozanov was no normal person, however.

“This calls for plan b.” He informed Anya, who was sleeping peacefully across his stomach. It was a slow day, stuck in the straight middle between two games. An early morning practice and then an entire afternoon to himself. Normally, he would have made the drive over to Montreal, but Shane was playing in Florida next and had already flown out. That just left him and Anya.

Ilya was bored. And frustrated. Three times he had tried to explain to his close friends (and Scott Hunter) the biggest part of his life and yet no one had grasped it. Each time he had come home confused, much to Shane’s amusement, and each time he felt himself getting more desperate. Reckless. 

The only silver lining was watching Shane get more reckless too. In fact, the idea for plan b had come from Shane. During one of their short, one night trips to each other, Ilya had taken Shane to a local provincial park near him for a morning run around the lake. It had been so peaceful and beautiful, running beside Shane as the sun had risen and the world bloomed into color around them. At the halfway point, they had stopped for a short break to take in the views and Ilya had watched, speechless, as Shane posted an Instagram story, tagging him and his location.

“Let’s see what Hunter thinks of that.” Shane had smirked at what Ilya could imagine to be an absolute gobsmacked look on his face. Their little break ended up being a bit longer than planned. Ilya lightly scraping his knee on the forest floor. It had been absolutely worth it.

And the move had stuck with him. The love he felt, reposting Shane’s story and afterwards, scrolling through the hundreds of comments and dm's from fans trying to figure out what the hell they were doing together. 

Scott Hunter had even replied, “Please don’t murder Shane Hollander in the Canadian woods.” 

Ilya had sent back “🔪🔪🔪🔪” in reply.

He had been inspired by Shane, his thoughts the following days circling over and over again to Instagram. Doomscrolling, Shane called it. Ilya hadn’t corrected him, the few times he’d been called out.

Doomscrolling was something he did, yes, but not right now. He was busy searching and curating. Going through years worth of photos to find the perfect ones. Photos that would reveal enough but not everything.

And today he finally felt ready. Everything was ordered, properly tagged, caption written. He just had to make his finger hit post.

He hadn’t warned Shane about the post. And even though he hadn’t tagged Shane (a decision he went back and forth on for days), he knew Shane was still going to be instantly informed.

Ilya hoped he liked it.

He ran a hand through Anya’s fur, not even startling her as she snored softly on his stomach. Then he let himself hit post and placed his phone down.

*new post - Ilya Rozanov*

Tagged location - Ottawa, Canada

First photo - a sunset over a lake, loons swimming in the lake slightly out of focus.

Second photo - the Ottawa Centaurs lined up for team photos in front of their bus, photo taken obviously between professional takes as all the players are more busy laughing with each other than looking at the camera.

Third photo - a short video of Anya running wildly around a fenced in backyard, a laugh from a man that is not Ilya heard in the background.

Fourth photo - a home cooked meal, smoked salmon over rice with edamame and a can of ginger ale.

Fifth photo - Ilya pictured from the back, standing and wearing a Shane Hollander jersey, arms raised with thumbs pointing down towards the name across his back.

Caption: Some of my favorite things in Ottawa (except for the wolf birds)

He lets his phone vibrate for a few minutes, next to him before picking it back up.

Instagram takes a moment to load, but when his picture comes into focus, Ilya can’t help but immediately scroll through the comments. He knew Harris would kill him for replying to fan comments without permission, but he figured he'd be getting enough grief anyway.

@omgiloveroz

Oh look, a Ilya Rozanov post. Oh look, Canada. Oh look, HOLY SHIT IS THAT HOLLANDERS JERSEY

-> Reply @ilyarozanov81

               😈

@hockeyboys4lifeee

Ok, I can b normal bout this (she says speaking out loud to an empty room)

-> Reply @hockeyboys4lifeee

               ok, fuck no, I cant 

-> Reply @ilyarozanov81

               Normal is boring

-> Reply @hockeyboys4lifeee

               Ok! (she says speaking out loud to an empty room and apparently ILYA ROZANOV??)

@hollzysstick

I'm sorry does tHAT SAY HOLLANDER???

-> Reply @ilyarozanov81

               no

@mrs.rozanov8111

😭😭😭 the betrayal!!!! how could you!!!!

-> Reply @bearsbthabest

               Gurl, they be friends now, keep up

-> Reply @hattrixr4kids

                idk wearing his name across your back…

-> Reply @ilyarozanov81

               “friends”

-> Reply @bearsbthabest

               HOLY SHIT 

-> Reply @hattrixr4kids

               hello mr rozanov sir

-> Reply @ilyarozanov81

               Hello

@hollanovtruther

Um guys, not to make everything about me, but like, if you never hear from me again, this post has killed me ✌️

-> Reply @ilyarozanov81

               No don't die, you must see me beat Shane for the cup again

-> Reply @hollanovtruther

               See, like how did you this was going to help??

-> Reply @ilya<3shane

               SHANE??

-> Reply @ilyarozanov81

               His first name? Do you not know this?

@81girlforeva

Are Rozanov and Hollander actually friends???

-> Reply @ilyarozanov81

               No

-> Reply @ilyarozanov81

               We are boyfriends 

->Reply @hollanovtruther

               Ok folks, so he's been hacked

->Reply @ilyarozanov81

               Are you fucking kidding me???

Only the ringing of his phone cuts him off, an incoming call from Shane.

“Yes?” Ilya can’t help the leftover laughter in his tone.

There’s a wild laugh on the other side of the line. “Ilya. I love you.” 

(Harris Drover)

“Ilya, please. Don’t make this difficult.”

Ilya very much ignored Harris behind him as he struggled with Chiron, the clip on cupid arrow not wanting to stay on his collar. “It fine, Harris. I got this.”

“He’s not even supposed to be a part of the video!” Harris had already told him this at least twice. Again, Ilya ignored him.

With one much struggle, disguised as a quick snuggle, the foam arrow hung only slightly crooked. “Perfect. You are the best dog. Second only to Anya.”

Ilya picked up the foam bow lying on the floor next to them and threaded his arm through it so it hung off his shoulder. “We are ready.”

“Finally.” Harris waved Ilya towards the chair waiting for him, only sighing loudly when Ilya was quick to shove it out of the way and sit on the floor in front of the backdrop with Chiron. Gen, the team’s photographer and videographer for this quick informal interview, cracked up behind the camera. 

“This will be good. People like me. People like Chiron. I do not know why you have problem, Harris.” Ilya could have pretended to be annoyed, but that was pretty hard when Chiron was licking his cheek.

“You are my problem, Rozanov.” Oh, the last name. Harris only brought that out when Ilya was being really annoying. He had to bite back his smirk.

After a few moments of readjusting the angles of the camera, Harris began to count down with his fingers, indicating the camera was about to roll. Ilya straightened his back and pulled Chiron slightly closer. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day! We’re here with our players to ask them a few Valentine’s questions, sent in from our fans!” Ilya let out a small whoop at that, smiling afterwards at the glare Harris gave him before he continued. “First up, our captain, Ilya Rozanov. Roz, are you ready?”

“Woo me away, Harris.” Bood had taught him that phrase. Ilya was pleased at how hard Harris seemed to have to work to suppress a sigh. 

“Question one, what’s the best gift you’ve ever received for Valentine’s day?”

Ilya could practically feel the heat of Harris’ glare as he pretended to think. “Favorite? Ah!” He raised his hands to cover Chiron’s puppy ears. “My favorite gift was getting to unwrap-”

“No.” Harris’ stern voice cut through. “Keep it appropriate, Ilya.”

“What? I was just going to say box of chocolate strawberries?” 

“Why did you cover Chiron’s ears then?” Ilya could tell Harris had forgotten the camera was still running. Gen shot him a wink over the lens which made Ilya smile wider.

“I did not want him to hear chocolate. Chocolate is bad for dogs, Harris. I am not mean.” Chiron, seemingly content to have Ilya’s hands still framing his face, sat still, though his tail was thumping against the floor in a steady beat. 

Ilya had the pleasure of watching Harris sputter for a minute before the man pulled himself together. “Ok. Whatever. Question two, do you have any tips for buying the best gift for Valentine’s day?”

“Buying? Boring. This is boring question.” Ilya uncovered his hands and ran a steady hand down Chiron’s back. “Best gift is time together. Plan something. Do not just throw money at someone. Make them breakfast in bed, bring them flowers to work, cook dinner together, take them apart slowly in bed-”

“Ilya!” Harris’ cheeks were red. 

“What?” Ilya did his best to tilt his head in the same innocent, adorable way that Chiron always did. “It’s good answer.”

“Question three.” Harris plowed on. “Any tips for the single fans out there?”

“Why do I get this question?” Ilya asked to bide time. What was he supposed to say here? He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t spent the holiday thinking about Shane.

“Well, I couldn’t ask one of the married guys that.” Was all Harris had to offer.

Ilya felt like his stomach turned over when the realization of the opportunity in front of him slammed into him. Before he could overthink it, the words came out: “I do not think asking the engaged guy is any better.”

A choked gasp from Gen behind the camera filled the sudden silence in the room. 

“Engaged?” Harris’ words were barely audible. 

“Yes. To be married.” Ilya knew he didn’t have to clarify, but watching Harris twitch at that was too funny.

There was a long minute where Ilya and Harris just stared at each other. Then, Harris seemed to shake himself. “Congrats, Ilya. Really. That is amazing.” Similar words echoed from Gen.

Ilya felt the words sweep over him and his heart rate calmed. “Thank you. Is recent.” It was nine nights ago, but he didn’t feel like revealing that part yet. 

“Wow.” There was another moment of silence before Ilya watched Harris pull his work persona back together. “Ok, so I’ll ask Luca that. New question, how are you planning on spending your Valentine’s day?”

“Oh that is good question. This is special year. Our first Valentine’s together. Like, in same location together.” Harris was nodding along, wide eyes glistening. “He doesn’t know it yet, but I have whole day planned. Morning we go on run, to his favorite place. There is this lake, very beautiful, that he loves. There we get fresh coffee. Then we will probably play some hockey. Very fun. He is very competitive. Lunch I have his favorites planned. Asked his mother for the one recipe. He does not know I know it. Afternoon we will, well. That is not appropriate here. But it will be fun.” The fact that Harris didn’t say anything there slightly shocked Ilya. He must be really shocked by the fiance announcement. “Dinner will be grilling. Together. Outside. Then we build fire and then,” Ilya cut himself off. “Wait, when are you releasing this?”

“Um, Valentine’s day.” Came Harris’ stumbled reply.

“Hm. Ok. That’s fine. He will not be on Instagram anyway. But still, just in case, the rest is surprise. Sorry.” 

Harris was nodding slowly. Chiron wiggled slightly in Ilya’s arms, the arrow once again coming loose. Ilya freed it completely with a gentle hand and let him run free. 

“Wow. Ilya, this is, just, wow.” Harris struggled through the words and reached an absentminded hand to pet Chiron at his side.

“Very romantic, Roz.” Gen spoke out around the camera.

“Yes. Thank you. I am excited.” Ilya knew his face must be making some sappy expression but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Let them see.

“Wait, he? Ilya, are you ok with us posting this?” Harris looked ready to delete all files at a moment's notice. 

Ilya’s heart clenched. He loved his team. “Yes. I said it, no? It is fine. We want to tell people soon anyway.”

Harris nodded distractedly. Ilya could practically see the plans forming behind his eyes. Future media posts in the making.  

The shoot wrapped up with a few still shots of Ilya posing with the Valentine’s decorations, including one where he pretended to shoot Chiron with the love arrow.

It wasn’t until he was moving to head back to practice when Harris stopped him. “Ilya, I know I already said it, but I’m so happy for you. Congrats. I’m glad he said yes.”

Ilya couldn’t hold in the snort. “He said? No, I said yes. Yes, it is very good thing.”

“He proposed?” Harris’ eyebrows raised and he shot out a hand as if to steady himself on Ilya’s shoulder. “Wow. That’s amazing. That just makes me even more excited to meet him.”

Ilya had a small moment of deja vu. Here it goes again. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes as last time. 

“We could do, uh what you call it, double? With you and Troy?”

“A double date?” Harris’ expression shifted back to glee. “Yes, of course. Absolutely. Maybe the day after Valentine’s day?”

Ilya had to run through both his and Shane’s calendars in his head for a moment. “Ah, that is difficult. He leaves that morning. Has to get back in time for next game. Maybe another time?”

Ilya could barely hold himself still as he watched Harris put two and two together. “Game? Ilya, is he also a hockey player?” 

“Yes. I have good taste.” He wanted to make a joke about Troy but held his tongue. He could not distract Harris here.

“Wow. Two hockey players. Engaged. This will be, ground breaking.”

“Yes. Game changing.” Ilya echoed the original response from Yuna as they had outlined their plans to go public to her at dinner the night before.

“You’ll be on the same level as Scott Hunter. Wow.” Harris was shifting back into social media manager mode. “This is amazing. Two of the biggest hockey stars in the league, out and proud. Young me would have never believed it. Now imagine, you throw Shane Hollander into the mix? The whole set? Gosh, that would be the dream.”

Ilya couldn’t hold back his snort. “Shane is in the mix. He’s the one who asked, Harris.” 

But Harris wasn’t listening. Ilya let his further rambles flow over him. A part of him wanted to interrupt, to say yes! All three of the league's top players were queer, and ha! Would you know it, the top two are in love with each other! But Harris was on a roll. Ilya would have other chances to tell him.

He went back to practice and soaked up the love from his team the entire afternoon. Even went out with Hayes and Dyskra for dinner after, knowing it would be some time before Shane got in from Montreal.

It was later than he originally planned when he finally got home, the headlights of his car catching on Shane’s jeep in the driveway. Something settled deep down in Ilya. A feeling of rightness shifting into place. 

Ilya tiptoed into his bedroom, hopping lightly to avoid the one creaky floorboard just before he got into bed. Quiet as he was, the movement of the covers seemed to wake Shane.

“Hn, Ilya?” The words were barely distinguishable yet simultaneously music to Ilya's ears.

“Shh. Sweetheart, go back to bed.” He pulled the covers up around both of them and scooted closer to Shane under the covers.

“How did it go?” Shane's eyes were still closed but he turned his face towards Ilya.

“Failure.” Ilya said quietly, almost a whisper. “Harris did not believe me. Video was great though.”

“Mmm. That's good.” Ilya wasn't even sure Shane was really with him but he couldn't help the smile at the words.

As Shane snuggled closer, Ilya racked his brain for further chances, further people in his life he could try to tell. Who would believe him?

“I think I give up. On soft launch.” He breathed the words into the dark, evening air.

It had been minutes since they last spoke, but still, Shane stirred, opening one squished eye to lazily focus. “Give up?”

Ilya nodded slowly. “Subtle, I am not good at. I have told people. They can not say I did not tell them. Now I will just love you and they will have to live with it.”

Shane brushed a kiss across Ilya's bare shoulder. “Ok. We don't have to hide anymore.” 

Ilya brushes a finger across the matching engagement band on Shane’s finger. It had been delivered this morning. “I don't think I could hide. Not anymore.”

“Good.” Shane’s words were becoming more muffled but he still went on, “Gonna be hard to ignore when we're married.”

(+1 Ottawa Centaurs)

At this point, Ilya had given them enough chances. Sure, was it maybe a little bit difficult to rewrite a rivalry into a love story? Yes. Did he think it should really be this difficult? No.

Post engagement, Ilya had really felt a shift in Shane. Not that he hadn't believed Shane had wanted to come out before, but he had always felt like he had been the one pushing for things to become more open. More public. Shane had seemed content with where things were, or, at least, not actively chasing change.

And then the entire disaster that was that flight to Florida occurred. A brush with death, David had called it. Ilya didn't really find those words fitting. It was a brush of new life, really. The entire experience, the messages on Instagram, the team crying as the plane landed, Shane’s appropriate panic, all had seemed to breathe fresh life into their love. Problems that before had seemed massive, impossible to overcome, were suddenly overshadowed with the bright, undeniable shine of the world when he and Shane were together.

He had been expecting that he might find Shane at his place when they finally flew back to Ottawa, but walking into a romantic proposal? His entire living room covered in candles? Shane on one knee?

Ilya still barely believed it now.

And that had seemed to be the final straw. Shane, on one knee. A ring that glittered too much to be ignored (it was a thicker band, with a ring of diamonds inlaid). A failed soft launch where Shane (and surprisingly Ilya as well) seemed to at least have emotionally worked through the fear and uncertainty that can reveal the truth of their relationship to the world. 

And now, Ilya finally had proof. Had a plan that couldn’t be ignored or falsely interpreted. It was not a situation that could be written off as ‘just friends’. 

He has painstakingly sat and insisted on doing the job per hand. Shane had fretted, offering over and over his help but Ilya knew this one had to come from him. In his handwriting. Further proof.

And then they had been sent off and he was left to wait. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, Shane had called it. This had nothing to do with shoes, Ilya had argued. He found most English expressions like that stupid.

They had waited until after the season was over. Montreal had made it further in the playoffs than the Centaurs, but the cup had once again gone to New York. Apparently it was Scott Hunter's year again.

Ilya was fine, this year, with Hunter winning the cup. He was pretty sure that wasn't what people were going to remember from this summer anyway.

Shane had been more heartbroken. His team had really fallen apart in the playoffs. Ilya knew internal tensions had risen post engagement. Shane hadn't yet told them who he was engaged to, but according to Pike, he'd dropped enough hints that most of them had picked up on it being another hockey player. Particularly, not one on their team. And apparently that wasn't something most players on the Montreal Voyager's were ok with.

It had been a horrible last two weeks, watching Shane bend himself backwards and fall apart to try to appease the exact team members who slid further and further away from him. Watched as Shane was practically ignored on the ice in certain periods, his own teammates acting as if their star player suddenly didn't exist. 

When Montreal finally got kicked out of the playoffs, Ilya had been ready, waiting with open arms for Shane at the cottage. It had been days of tears and anger before he began to approach the topic that had been haunting him all season: Shane was a free agent. 

Ilya never wanted to pressure Shane into any decision, but watching the way Shane's team had treated him at the end of this season had been too excruciating to ignore.

It took Ilya three days to work up the nerve, days busy with wedding planning now that Shane was trying to put the season behind him. He hadn't even fully gotten the idea out when Shane had cut him off.

“I know. I've been talking to Farah about it.”

Ilya had not known that. Wasn't even sure, really, when Shane had found the time to do that.

“About resigning?” He hadn't let himself get his hopes up.

Shane met his eyes. “About leaving Montreal.” His words were steady.

The world had frozen. For a short moment, Ilya let himself feel. A final shift was coming. Was he ready for it?

“Leaving?” The word felt foreign again in his mouth.

“Ilya.” Shane had dropped the seating plan he had been working on and had stepped in front of Ilya, holding Ilya’s shaking hands in his own. “Ilya, I want to come home.”

What followed had been Ilya’s days of tears and disbelief. It was a wonder they had accomplished anything of their wedding planning so far. Ilya had Yuna and David to thank for that, he knew.

As it was, today was another day of decisions. Shane had read out their daily to-do list over breakfast, highlighting cake tasting and finalisation of the DJ decision as Ilya’s top tasks. Both things he could very much handle. 

“Shane! Why is this one green?” The mini cake slices had been delivered shortly after lunch and Ilya had dropped everything (or really, stopped folding laundry) to get on task. He remembered ticking off the boxes on the order form with the most interesting flavors, but green?

“Green?” Shane’s voice became clearer as he stepped into the kitchen. “Oh, I believe that’s the matcha one. I wanted to try that.”

“Matcha? The grass tea? Shane, why would you do that to cake?” Ilya watched Shane step closer, felt the fork plucked out of his hand, but still cringed as he watched Shane take a small bite.

“It’s good. Not too sweet.” Shane was saying, passing the fork back into Ilya’s still outstretched hand. “Try some.”

“Grass cake? Shane, we are not cows. I need sweet. Is cake.” Ilya kept going as the grin on Shane’s face grew. “I cannot feed people this. You can get small cake. Just for you. And Scott Hunter. He can have grass cake.”

“I think Eric would like it.” Shane teased, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. “Maybe I can share with him.”

Ilya could taste the faint taste of matcha on Shane’s lips but he didn’t let it distract him. “No sharing with Bennet. Grass cake is just for you.”

He was pulling Shane in for another kiss when the doorbell rang.

“Are we expecting anything else?” Ilya asked, chancing a glance towards the door, but he couldn’t see who stood on the other side of it.

“I don’t believe so?” Shane stole another quick bite of the matcha cake. Ilya made a mental note to order it more often. On anniversaries and such. 

“Let me go see.” Ilya pressed his kiss instead to Shane’s cheek and left his fiance with the cake slices. Other than the green slice, he knew the others were safe.

His brain was so busy running through possible matcha insults to make Shane laugh that it took him a second after the door swung open to take in the faces across from him.

“Hello?” Ilya reacted mostly on reflex. Practically half of his team was standing on his doorstep, sue him for being a bit overwhelmed.

“Roz.” Bood nodded curtly. “Good to see you, man.” 

Ilya nodded slowly back, gaze filtering over to the nervous faces of Haas, Harris and Hayes. Barrett stood at the back with Dykstra and they both looked very much like they did not want to be there.

“Yes.” Ilya managed as an answer before the big question, “What are you guys doing here?” Had he missed something in the team group chat? It had been pretty quiet the past few weeks.

“Ilya, we just want to talk to you.” Harris tried, before Barrett jutted in.

“This is an intervention, Roz. Can we come in?”

Ilya blinked slowly, but when his eyes opened and his men were still standing there, he finally moved to let them in.

“Shoes off.” He instructed before Bood got any further in the house. “We can go to the living room.”

Most of the guys had settled down in a semi circle in the living room when Shane reappeared. “Hello.” His voice careful before he turned to Ilya with a furrowed eyebrow.

“I have no idea.” Ilya fought the instinct to throw his hands up. “They say I need intervention.”

“An intervention?” Shane’s voice rose, but Hayes was quick to jump in.

“Hollander, man. Great to see you. Sorry to be interrupting your camp planning, but this is an important team matter.” 

Camp planning? Ilya fought back a hysterical giggle. Was that really the reason they thought Shane Hollander would be at his place? Nevermind that this cabin had belonged to Shane first. 

“Shane stays. For whatever this is.” Ilya patted the free spot on the couch next to him. He considered the possibility of team matters always including Shane next season and couldn’t help his smile.

Shane made his way over, picking his steps carefully as he sat down next to Ilya, an inch or two further away than normal. 

Once Shane was settled, Ilya turned his grin to his teammates. “So? Intervention? Let’s go.”

Barrett groaned. “Roz, an intervention is not a good thing. You think we’d really all be here, in the off season, for nothing?”

Ilya relaxed back against the pillows, fighting the urge to tug Shane against his side to get him to stop sitting so ram rod straight. “I have done nothing bad. I am not sure why you all are here, but it’s sure to be funny. So shoot.” That was an English expression he did like.

“Um, it’s kind of about Hollander, Roz.” Dykstra raised an eyebrow, the silence stretching for a minute, as if they were waiting for him to feel uncomfortable and kick Shane out. Ilya couldn’t help but snort.

“Ok? Does Hollander need intervention too?”

“No, no, no!” Harris waved his hands frantically. “Of course not. It’s just, Ilya,” he seemed to struggle with his next words for a moment. “We all got some mail from you this week.”

“Ah! The wedding invitations. Yes. Good.” Ilya nodded, finally finding some starting point in the conversation. “I have not gotten reply back, what do you call it again?” He reached a finger out to poke Shane.

“An RSVP.” Shane answered, a slight tremor betraying the laughter Ilya could see him repressing. Ilya wasn’t sure what Shane found funny about this conversation yet, but he could feel it unfolding around him.

“Yes, that. Why no RSVP?”

“Roz, your wedding invitations were addressed from you and Hollander.” Bood spoke the last two words slowly, holding Ilya’s eye contact. 

Ilya saw Shane bring a hand up to his mouth to bite a knuckle in his peripheral vision. “Yes? That is what you do?” He still didn’t quite understand the problem here. 

“Roz, that makes it look like you’re marrying Shane Hollander.” Hayes’ tone was kind but bewildered. 

“Yes?” Ilya managed to keep his voice even, though the increased shaking of Shane next to him was beginning to feel contagious. He had to fight back his own laughter and the worried gazes of his teammates stared him down.

“Hollander,” Hayes turned his attention to Shane. “Again, sorry to be throwing you in this mess, but maybe you can help us out here?”

Ilya watched Shane take a deep breath, eyes still dancing with mirth as he nodded slowly at Hayes. He turned slightly, halfway facing Ilya. “Roz,” the nickname playful on his lips. “I believe what your teammates are trying to say is, they think you made a mistake putting my name on your wedding invites.”

“A mistake?” the realization sunk in the moment the words left his mouth. Ilya was the one raising his hand, trying his best to hide his grin as he held Shane’s eye contact. He could not laugh now. No, this was his chance, finally. Shane was here. Shane could explain it to them. “See, I told you.” He managed once the wave of hysteria passed. “Soft launch was failure.”

“Soft launch?” echoed quietly from Haas.

“Yes, but I thought the invites would have done it.” Shane leaned back against the side of the couch, finally relaxing his spine as he grinned back at Ilya. 

Ilya could only shake his head. “They are hopeless. I give up.” 

“It’s impressive. I’ll give them that.” Shane leaned forward and grasped Ilya’s knee as he stood up. “I’ve got to call the flower vendor real quick before they close for the day. Which ones had you liked again?”

“The ones with lilies.” He grabbed Shane’s hand before he stepped too far away. “Do not forget to ask for corsage for Anya. She will feel left out if she doesn’t match.”

Shane laughed quietly, “Yes, I know.” Shane dropped a kiss to the top of Ilya’s head before stepping away.

Ilya felt the weight of all the eyes on him as he watched Shane step out onto the back deck with his phone. It wasn’t until the glass door finished sliding closed that he turned back to his teammates. Shocked faces greeted him. Haas was so pale, Ilya had a half thought of worry form. 

“Sorry. Wedding planning is busy. Much more stressful than I thought.” 

“What the fuck.” Bood’s normally booming voice was a whisper.

Ilya gave them another few seconds and when nothing more came, he offered up a one shoulder shrug. “I told you guys. No one believed me, but I told you guys.”

“Holy shit.” Hayes looked pale now too. “You’re marrying Shane Hollander.”

“Yes.” Ilya felt himself preen. Finally. Finally someone got it. Maybe he should have just brought Shane along this entire time.

“But the rivalry?” Dykstra sounded so lost.

Ilya stifled back a giggle. “Ah yes. That.”

“That?” Bood was getting louder. “Roz, you guys are supposed to hate each other? It’s like the most famous thing in the NHL?”

Ilya was giggling now. “Hate?” He managed to get out. “No. We are rivals on the ice, yes. That is not fake. But I’ve never hated Shane.”

Harris raised his hand, “Was this the fiance you told me about? On Valentine’s day?”

Multiple confused glances swirled to focus on Harris. “Yes. Shane. I told you then too, but you did not listen.” 

Harris at least had the grace to look embarrassed. “Ah.” Then, “Oh my, that means Shane Hollander proposed!”

“Holy shit.” This time from Haas, a full blush across his features.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me, you fell for your rival? The man you’ve competed against your entire career? Shit, Roz, this is like a fairytale.” Bood was staring at him more in wonder than concern or confusion now.

“Real enemies to lovers shit.” Hayes was nodding.

Ilya shook his head. “No. Never enemies.”

“Well, I don’t mean that in the hate sense.” Hayes was practically bouncing in his seat. “But when you consider the narrative, you two playing against each other for years and then falling in love? It fits the trope.”

“No.” Ilya was grinning. “There was no enemies. Just lovers.” He was glad Shane was still on the porch. “Lovers. Whole time.”

A long moment, then, “The whole time? The whole time?” Hayes was up, pacing in front of Ilya’s TV.

“Hayes. Breathe.” Dykstra was trying. 

“Oh my god. The implications of this? The whole time?”

“Since rookie season.” Ilya added.

“Since the summer before.”

Ilya hadn’t heard the door open, Shane walking back into the living room and sitting back down, this time much closer to Ilya on the couch. 

“So, how far you’d get?” He nudged Ilya softly, grinning.

“Well, I’ve told people now. Not much further than that.” Ilya felt like he was floating. Sure, his teammates were still looking at him like he had lost it, but he could feel the shift in the room. 

“Maybe they can help you with cake tasting?” Shane offered up, “For whatever the main cake will be.”

“Yes. Is good idea.” Ilya pushed himself up and pulled Shane up after him. He pressed a featherlight kiss to Shane’s lips before he turned to his teammates. “Come. Kitchen. Important decisions to be made. Bood, if Shane has left any of it behind, you have to try to green one.” 

Ilya grabbed Shane’s hand, lacing their fingers together as they led the way back to the kitchen, the continued rant from Hayes, questions from Harris and laughter followed them. There was no place he would rather be.

Chapter End Notes

Ok so like, I'm 90% sure the plane crash wasn't in February but like, for the sake of my Valentine's Day Video idea, let's all just pretend it was. Ok? Thanks!
Also, this was absolutely supposed to be a one shot but whoops, as you may of noticed, there's a next chapter option.
Also also, I know Troy Barrett basically says nothing in the 'intervention' scene - tha boy is going through it (aka he puts it together the second he sees Shane and then has to live with the realization he told Ilya that Shane Hollander is a babe)
Thank you for reading! All comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!! <3

Chapter 2: Scott Hunter's Reaction Arc

Chapter Notes

Um, hello! This wasn't supposed to happen, aka this really was just planned to be a one shot (which already was double the length than I had planned) but then SO MANY of you lovely people commented asking for more!! And let me just say, this is the kind of peer pressure I can stand behind and BOY is it motivating.
I can't and won't make any promises on how long/many of these I will add for this fic, but obviously, this story is not leaving me alone as easily as I thought it would.

“AND! And this, this motherfucker, apologies baby, but motherfucker is really the best word for him. Like, I know a lot of it is just talk, part of the game, you know. I know what game I play, what role I have. But with him it's different! It's personal! It's almost like he's picked me out as a special torment. Like he imprinted on me or something. Like some messed up, ugly, russian duckling. And I can never escape him! Never! I will die and he will still be chirping me in heaven. First it was Boston, now it's Ottawa. He's everywhere. It's horrible. I am suffering. Personally.” Scott finally ran out of breath. 

“Um,” Kip's questioning noise crackled a little bit on the other side of the phone. “We are talking about Ilya Rozanov right now, right?”

“Yes! Who else is infuriating enough, disrespectful enough,” A small part of Scott's brain was trying to remind him to take a deep breath, to calm down. 

“Wait, disrespectful? Rozanov?” Kip still sounded way too normal. “What did he say?” 

“Gaaaa!” Scott knew that was not a very becoming answer of himself, but when the topic was Ilya Rozanov? What more could one expect? Scott was only human. “It was so insulting. Baby, I wanted to hit him so bad.”

“Ok…” Kip breathed slowly on the other end. Scott wished he had his patience. “What exactly did he say?”

“It was just some homophobic bullshit.”

Another confused noise. “Rozanov? Homophobic? I would have sworn-”

Scott cut him off. “I know, I know! I thought he was cool with it! But then he comes around with these stupid allegations, claiming he's sleeping with Shane Hollander and all that-”

A shocked gasp stopped Scott in his tracks. “Shane Hollander? Scott, honey. Did you just say Ilya Rozanov admitted to be sleeping with Shane Hollander?” 

There was half a thought of doubt in Scott's head. Had he misspoke? Told Kip the story wrong? Why else would he sound like he wasn't immediately writing off this outrageous claim from Rozanov?

“Kip, baby. It was a stupid hockey chirp. Roz trying to get under my skin.” A breath, “And it fucking worked. God, I shouldn't let him get to me like that! I'm not some new rookie who doesn't know how shit talking works!”

“Scott. Rozanov told you he's sleeping with Shane Hollander?” Kip’s voice was rising, reaching a similar level of manic.

“Ugh, yes! Said they were sleeping together, in love, blah blah blah.” Scott knew Kip couldn't see him rolling his eyes, but he hoped the feeling was still transmitted.

“In love?” Kip’s voice was practically screeching now. “Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander are in love?”

“No, of course not. Jeez Kip, this is hockey. This is Roz. You can't take anything he says seriously.” 

“Oh my god. My ship is sailing. Full speed ahead.” Kip’s voice was muffled, as if his phone wasn't directly next to his ear.

“What? What ship?” Scott was too confused to be annoyed about whatever Kip was going on about.

“This is the best day ever. Well, second best. Our wedding was great. But this? Oh my god, no one will ever believe me.” Kip rambled on, apparently not hearing Scott’s question.

Scott let the fond warmth seep through him as Kip chattered on, the words flowing through him and pushing away the annoyance at a certain Russian player. He really wasn't sure what Kip was talking about, the ship must be some history thing Scott wasn't aware of, but it seemed to make Kip very excited and Scott would stand behind anything that made Kip happy. 

At the end of the day, he knew it probably wasn't healthy to get so worked up over Ilya Rozanov anyway. Still, his comments and chirps from the game stuck to the back of Scott’s thoughts. Yeah, Scott was familiar with the famous rivalry that was Rozanov vs Hollander, but with Rozanov leaving Boston a few years back, and even going on to start a charity with Hollander, Scott had assumed the heated rivalry was a thing of the past. Apparently not, based on tonight's comments. Scott couldn't help but grit his teeth and Ilya's mocking words filtered through his head again. Hollander and I, we are in love. He is my hockey player.

Bullshit.

Scott forced himself to unclench his jaw, pushed the mocking voice as far out of his head as he could and tried to tune back into Kip. He had better things to do in his life than listen to the tall tales Ilya Rozanov was spreading.

***

Scott was aware of the Rozanov moments he was going to have each season. Kip teased him for marking the games in red on his calendar, but it helped him mentally prepare for the permanent aggravation, so Scott let himself be laughed at.

The calendar worked so well, that when Scott had to face an unplanned Ilya Rozanov moment, he sometimes had to pull out his breathing exercises. Such measures were thankfully not necessary this evening, but Scott still could feel his blood pressure rising.

“I think you're reading too much into this, baby.” He was crammed into a booth at the Kingfisher with Kip, Eric and Kip’s friends watching the Ottawa pride game on the bar TV. Kip was practically leaning out of the booth to get closer to the TV.

“I’m telling you, nothing that man does is accidental.” Elena was fanning herself as another round of pictures were played before the commercial break. 

Scott fought the urge to roll his eyes as flashes of that infuriating smirk flickered on the screen. Yes, did Scott think the suit was hot? Maybe. Was any potential effect it could have ruined by the man wearing it? Absolutely.

“He's so brave.” Kip was sighing, staring much too dreamingly up at the screen for Scott's comfort.

“I'm not sure I get what's going on here?” Eric’s voice was low, close to Scott’s ear. 

Scott turned to give him a half helpless shrug. He answered in a whisper, “Apparently they think that suit is Ilya's version of coming out or something.” He did add a small eyeroll towards Eric at that.

“Ah. Ok.” Eric took a sip of his mocktail. 

Scott thought that was the end of it, and then the next commercial break started with the same stupid press photos again and suddenly Eric was laughing, loud and bright. Scott sent him a bewildered glance, could feel Kyle's eyes on them from the bar wondering what was going on. Scott was wondering too when Eric finally calmed down enough to offer an explanation.

“Ah, Rozanov. He can never just do things the easy way, can he?”

The sight of Eric giggling baffled Scott enough that he never managed to ask what he meant.

***

Normally Scott didn't check his own social media. Apparently he had liked one too many wrong posts before the New York Admirals had decided he could benefit from a social media manager.

Kip, on the other hand, thrived on Instagram, Twitter and all sorts of apps Scott wasn't even sure what they were for.

Sometimes, over breakfast or when they were cuddled on the couch watching mindless TV, Kip would snuggle closer, pull out his phone and open whatever app was on his mind to find a saved folder: “For Scott” to show him various posts and memes he thought Scott would enjoy. Those simple moments, a handmade routine of theirs, were some of Scott's favorite quiet moments.

Except for the times Ilya Rozanov was in focus.

Today was unfortunately one of those days. Kip had been a whirlwind of energy when he had gotten home from his day of seminars, barely stopping until he practically crashed into Scott on the sofa.

“Hello, I missed you.” He greeted Scott with a kiss. Before Scott could deepen it, Kip pulled back. “Oh my god, do I have something to show you.” 

The familiar movements and thumb strokes soothed Scott into a false comfort as Kip opened Instagram. At first, too, the post had looked normal. A lakeside, view of the sunset. Birds flying across the horizon.

And then the second photo. Really, that was the moment Scott should have realized. The Ottawa Centaurs smiling. But he had been distracted by the warmth of Kip pressed fully against him.

Then a video of a dog, which Kip swiped much too fast past for Scott's liking. And then a classic food picture. A similar meal to something Scott ate during the season.

And then, the damning fifth picture. Ilya Rozanov himself.

Scott rolled his eyes so hard he almost didn't notice the frantic look Kip was giving him.

“What? You know I don't like him.”

A strangled laugh from Kip. “Scott. I need you to look at this picture.” There was a beat, and then faster, “Is there nothing off, to you, about this picture?”

Scott stared at Kip for a long moment, but the longer he waited, the more excited wiggling seemed to emit from Kip. Slowly, he forced his eyes over and looked back at Kip's phone. There was Rozanov, thankfully not facing the camera so Scott didn't have to deal with his annoying smirk, but alone his body language, the cocky hands pointing at his-

“What the fuck?” 

Kip cackled against him. “There it is! He sees it! Thank god, he sees it!”

Scott blinked but the photo didn't change. “Is that Hollander's jersey?” 

It was a stupid question, really, Hollander in block letters easy to read. Being pointed out at by Rozanov himself, making them practically impossible to ignore. 

“I know! I told you, they really are in love!” Kip was smiling so wide, shaking Scott slightly as he bounced up and down at the word “love”.

“Why is Rozanov wearing Holly’s jersey?” Scott wanted to zoom in on the photo but knew he was forbidden from touching Kip’s phone when Instagram was open. There had been too many accidental likes.

“Because they're in love, L-O-V-E love!” Kip was still giggling. Slowly, Scott felt the words sink in. 

“Love? What?” Rozanov and Hollander? No way.

“Scott, honey, you told me yourself. Ilya Rozanov, himself!, has pointed out to you that they are together. In love. All that. And here! More proof! I mean, what else could Ilya wearing Holly’s jersey mean?”

Scott let the question sit for a moment. “It's a prank?” Was the best he could come up with.

Kip’s overdramatic sigh was full of love. “I give up. This was my proof. If you don't believe me? If you don't believe Rozanov? I don't know what you would believe.”

Scott could only blink slowly, his mind struggling to connect the dots. The image of Rozanov in Shane Hollander's jersey burned into his mind long after Kip had turned off his phone.

***

The final straw that broke the metaphorical camel's back arrived in the form of a neatly pressed letter.

Together With Their Families and Teammates

You are invited to the Wedding of

Shane Hollander 

&

Ilya Rozanov 

This Summer in Ottawa 

To: Kip Grady and his ancient hockey boyfriend 

The last part was written in messy handwriting. The paper was thick between Scott's fingers. Official feeling. Heck, the letter had even been sealed with a custom wax stamp of an S and I intertwined.

Scott couldn't move. As much as everything in his head wanted to scream this was just some prank, Rozanov torturing him from afar, deep down something in him shifted. The truth creeping up on him slowly pulling the floor out from under him.

That was where Kip found him, unknown moments later, standing in the kitchen, still sweaty from his run.

“Anything interesting in the mail?” Kip teetered around the kitchen, making a cup of coffee.

When Scott couldn't answer, Kip’s worried face got closer. “Scott, honey?” His words were careful, as if not to spook a child. “What is it?”

Scott’s mouth opened but nothing came out. That wasn't much of a surprise given that Scott was pretty sure there wasn't much of anything in his brain either. He handed the letter over to Kip.

There was a small moment, then a muffled gasp as Kip’s hand flew up to cover his mouth. “Oh my god. Is this?”

Scott could only watch as his husband read the letter again and again, gasping slightly each time his eyes hit mid page. 

Maybe this was some form of psychosis? Too many times slammed into the boards. Too many almost concussions to think straight. 

But Kip had the same look as him. Eyes glistened as he read the same words over and over. Words that he could apparently also see.

And that's what did Scott Hunter in. 

He had just received a wedding invitation from Ilya Rozanov. From Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander. Because, apparently, Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander were in love. Because Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander were getting married.

Oh my god, Scott couldn't help but think. They're really going to spend the rest of their lives playing hockey together.

Chapter End Notes

I know many of you were asking for the wedding/more Centaurs, don't stress! I heard you! I see the vision!
But I had to put some respect on Mr.Game Changer here :)
Hope you enjoyed it and thank you again for the wonderful reception of the fic!! Every comment and kudos warms my heart and fuels my soul!!

Chapter 3: Roz Support Groupchat

Chapter Notes

Here I am, pushing my Ottawa Centaurs agenda. I’m not sorry.
On a slightly more serious note, I’m trying out a slightly newish format here with the thought of this being a group chat. While I would absolutely LOVE to be so talented and mess with the formatting here, lord knows I have enough on my plate right now to willingly also take on a coding project. But maybe someday!!
Any who, back to (as much as a texting fic can have a POV) my favorite boy, Wyatt Hayes!!
For context, this takes place pre-intervention when Ilya has sent out the wedding invites.
Zane Boodman = Boodram
Luca = Little Haas
Evan Dykstra = D-man
Troy Barrett = T as in Troy
Nick Chouinard = Nicky boy

What has Roz done now?

Hayes:

Um. Guys.

Hayes:

SOS?

Boodman:

fuck, i was literally bout to say something

Boodman:

this has approached insane territory

D-man:

If you’re both talking about what I think you’re talking about, Boodman, buddy, we’re WAYYYY past approaching

Little Haas:

???

Hayes:

Ok good, so I’m not alone here

Hayes:

At least theres that

Boodman:

whatever happens, we go down together

D-man:

It was nice knowing y’all 

T as in Troy:

What the fuck on you all on about today

T as in Troy:

It’s too damn early for you all to be blowing up my phone like this

Hayes:

SOS Barrett! Time is irrelevant!

Hayes:

Also, maybe check you mail

Little Haas:

I am also confused

Nicky boy:

fuk I’m not in the country rn, wht’s in tha mail?

T as in Troy:

Can’t you just text like a normal person

Hayes:

BARRETT! MAIL

Hayes:

Also Luca, please check your mail

T as in Troy:

Love the equal treatment here

Boodman:

we are loving and supportive parents, barrett, haasy is doing his best

Little Haas:

I’ve checked my email??

Boodman:

oH hes precious!!!

Hayes:

Goddamit Haas, we don’t have time for you to be cute

Hayes:

Your physical mail

Hayes:

Die Post

T as in Troy:

I mean, technically we do have time

T as in Troy:

It’s the fucking off season

T as in Troy:

Aka the one time where we aren’t supposed to be with each other 24/7

T as in Troy:

Also, why do I have mail from Roz?

D-man:

Shut the fuck up Barrett, you know you miss us

Hayes:

WAIT

Hayes:

Is Harris there?

Hayes:

Barrett, I swear, you need to open this with him

Nicky boy:

So is this like actually important orrrr

Boodman:

when i say this, know i mean it, roz has officially gone off the rails

Nicky boy:

And???? R u new here?

T as in Troy:

Well given that Harris also has a letter from Roz, yeah I’ll get him

D-man:

Wait he really sent Harris one too? Not together?

Boodman:

i think we are missing out on the more important info here, why would roz send both letters to the same place???

Boodman:

does our captain know something that we do not???

Hayes:

oH MY GOD

Hayes:

Troy Barrett! You dog, keeping this from us!

T as in Troy:

Shut the fuck up

T as in Troy:

No we do not live together

Boodman:

…

D-man:

…

Hayes:

…

Little Haas:

…

T as in Troy:

Yet.

D-man:
THERE it is!

Boodman:

fuck ya

Hayes:

As exciting as this is, Barrett, men, let’s focus

Hayes:

Roz

Little Haas:

I found mail

Little Haas:

Wax stamp??

D-man:

I mean, you do have to admire his dedication

Hayes:

It’s literally their letters

Hayes:

Like, if this wasn’t borderline creepy, it’d be romantic???

T as in Troy:

What the actual fuck

Boodman:

ah, welcome to the madness

Nicky boy:

Fck u all for leaving me in suspense

Little Haas:

Um. 

D-man:

Barrett!! What does Harris say???

Hayes:

It’s a fucking wedding invation, Nick

T as in Troy: 

…he hasn’t said anything yet

T as in Troy:

I think he’s in shock

Nicky boy:

Wedding?? Roz?? To who???

Boodman:

BOY do i have a story for you

D-man:

Hahahahahahahaaaaaaaa

Hayes:

The million dollar question and the reason we’re all here in this mess

Little Haas:

Shane Hollander? 

Little Haas:

Pls tell me your guys also says Shane Hollander

Nicky boy:

Whelp

Nicky boy:

Have fun with that boys, that is SO not my problem

T as in Troy:

Harris has moved on to laughter

T as in Troy:

It’s scary

T as in Troy:

Also, fuck you, Chouinard, Roz is all our problem

Hayes:

Yes, they are from Roz and Shane Hollander

D-man:

Apparently

T as in Troy:

What the actual FUCK

Boodman:

what???

Little Haas:

???
D-man:

Oh lord, what now?

Hayes:

Now I’m afraid

T as in Troy:

Well, I can tell you why Harris got his own letter!!!!

T as in Troy:

Fucking Rozanov

Boodman:

omg the plot thickens

Hayes:

Alright, I’m as emotionally prepared for this as I’ll ever be

T as in Troy:

So you know how you get a plus one???

D-man:

Typical wedding etiquette, yes

Boodman:

omg are you harris’ plus 1 barrett?

Boodman:

fuck i love roz

T as in Troy:

No.

T as in Troy:

Chiron is.

Hayes:

I’m-

Boodman:

fuck i LOVE roz

Little Haas:

He invited a dog to his wedding??? Is that what you do here??

D-man:

Ngl this is actually so Roz

Hayes:

GUYS

Hayes:

We must focus

Hayes:

We have bigger problems here (sorry Barrett)

Hayes:

wait

Hayes has renamed the chat

*Roz’s intervention squad*

Boodman:

i hate we have come to this

Boodman:

but it must be done

T as in Troy:

Fuck him. I’m not dealing with this mess

Hayes:

Barrett, I’m going to need you to get over your hurt feelings about being replaced by a dog and be apart of this team. 

Hayes:

This is our captain

Little Haas:

Intervention?

Little Haas:

You mean we’re actually going to talk to Roz about this???

Boodman:

or what? we show up for ‘wedding’?

Hayes:

We take care of our own

Hayes:

Roz needs us

T as in Troy:

Um, not to throw something more out there

T as in Troy:

But

T as in Troy:

Have we considered talking to Hollander??

Boodman:

NO

Hayes:

ABSOLUTELY NOT

D-man:

I would rather die

T as in Troy:

Well ok. 

T as in Troy:

Kind of think we should give the man a heads up, but ok.

Hayes:

No, Hollander can never find out about this

Hayes:

This is a centaurs matter

T as in Troy:

I mean, his name is literally on the invite?

Boodman:

no.

Boodman:

we handle this

Boodman:

does anyone have roz’s address???

Hayes:

fuck.

Little Haas:

Yeah?

D-man:

Ok rookie!

Boodman:

coming in clutch, rook

T as in Troy:

Ah fuck, we’re really doing this aren’t we

T as in Troy:

Harris wants to come with

Hayes:

Of course

Hayes:

The more, the merrier

Boodman:

alright lets go men

Boodman:

off to save our captain from his delusions

Chapter End Notes

Next up…the wedding!! Everyone comes together!! Scott and Kip! Cliff Marlow! The Centaurs!! And, of course, Ilya and Shane!!
This fic will remain ‘finished’ until then though, life is actually crazy rn and I think having a wip would actually push me over.
In more positive words though, oh my god! Thank you so much for all the love and support this fic (and my others) has received so far!! Every kudos and comment is a little bright shining light in my day!!

Chapter 4: long live that look on your face

Chapter Notes

Hello hello here I am with the long promised wedding chapter!!
First of all, a million and one thank you to everyone who's supported this work and my other heated rivalry fics so far!!! I literally can't even believe how many people have read, liked, and commented on my works so far and 2 months ago could have never imagined I'd be here, still posting!! Let alone writing a fourth chapter to fic from an idea spawned through comments!
Secondly, this is going to be a temporary ending to this fic!! Never say never, but first of all I have some other wips that are screaming at me to work on them so here's to leaving it all at the altar!
Thirdly, the decision for POV in this chapter is something I have wrangled with for days, but Ilya and Shane's Wedding in TLG is so special to me I was too scared to touch it until!! One of you lovely commenters mentioned Cliff and my brain went *bam* and here we are

When Cliff wakes up, hours later than he usually would during the season, his first thoughts are about how comfortable he was. The slight bad taste in his mouth. How his right knee always slightly aches now. What he's going to have for breakfast, well, brunch at this point.

There were probably a dozen more pointless thoughts floating through his head that morning, but that's really not what was important. The most important thought was the one he didn't have. There was no sense of building tension. He wouldn't say he woke up on the wrong side of the bed. The sun was out, birds chirping. No sign of the chaos about to overtake his peaceful summer.

It was a blissful 37 minutes, that morning, before everything came crashing down.

To set the scene, because, you really need to understand here, everything was normal, picture an open floor plan kitchen. Cliff Marlow, Boston's greatest defender propped up against his granite countertops, one hand with fingers wrapped around his morning coffee, the other flipping through the day's mail on the kitchen island. Bills, in white envelopes; offers for more credit cards he definitely doesn't need, all bright in color; a postcard from his mother, from her vacation to Hawaii he had gifted her for Christmas. He was distracted thinking of which magnet he would use to hang that postcard up on his fridge with when his fingers touched it. The letter. The instigator into madness.

But even then, at the first touch, Cliff hadn't realized what was crashing into him. He'd fished out the slightly thicker, card stock feeling, envelope with one had and flipped it over. 

Ilya Rozanov listed as the return address.

Cliff put down his coffee to break open the wax seal with his other hand. A move that proved very helpful in hindsight, as he really should not have been holding hot liquids when he read the letters' contents.

Together With Their Families and Teammates

You are invited to the Wedding of

Shane Hollander 

&

Ilya Rozanov 

This Summer in Ottawa 

To: Cliff Marlow - my best man

His first instinct had been to laugh. This was insane, even for Ilya, but maybe this was a sign of how truly bored Ilya was up there in Ottawa. Too much free time on his hands.

But then his hand shifted and he saw the other papers tucked behind the all too official looking invitation.

An official RSVP return letter, with an open slot for him to enter a plus one to, Ilya's scraggly handwriting reminding him his mother doesn't count as she'll be getting her own invite underneath.

Three meal choices, a box waiting to be checked off. There's even a line for song wishes for the DJ, with the line “because Shane doesn't know music” written with it.

And suddenly, this no longer feels like a joke. 

Cliff can feel it, deep, almost as if it's his stomach trying to turn over. It's a shift in reality. Everything he'd thought he knew, shifted slightly to the left and therefore now off center.

His brain, the rational traitor, is screaming at him to remember that night in the bar this past season. To remember the exact words Ilya had said when he'd announced his engagement to-

To remember when Ilya said Shane.

With one hand gripping the papers, too tight, Cliff reaches for his phone sitting slightly away on the countertop and dials a number on pure muscle memory.

There was a click, and then, in a slight Russian accent, “Hello, Marlow.”

Cliff counted two breaths, in and out. What the fuck was he supposed to say to this? What was there to say to this? What did he want to say to this?

Another ragged breath, and then suddenly his mouth was running without his brain to guide it: “What the fuck Roz, what happened to Jane?”

Ilya’s cackling laughter was slightly deafening against his ear but somehow it was also the magic key that finally placed the puzzle pieces together.

Holy fuck. 

Jane.

Shane.

After he finally hangs up with Roz a half hour later, he’s bombarded with an incoming call from his mother, her shrieking voice through his phone’s speaker hysterical. How dare he never tell her Ilya was with Shane Hollander. 

How dare he, indeed. 

***

It's not even three weeks later when Cliff makes his first trip out to Ottawa that summer. 

The entire plane ride feels like something out of a fever dream. Sure, he's been meaning to visit Ilya ever since he moved from Boston, but he'd never imagined it would be under these circumstances.

A tux fitting. For Ilya's wedding. To Shane Hollander. Because apparently that was real life now.

When Ilya picks him up from the airport, in a jeep of all cars, Cliff is already struggling to place the man in front of him with the former teammate he still has in his memories.

“You drive a jeep now? Roz, blink twice if you need help.” Cliff has had time to let the idea soak in. He would say he’s been relatively successful at coming to terms with the fact that Roz, Ilya, is with Shane fucking Hollander. Or probably, fucking- 

Well, that.

“Never move to Canada, Marlow.” Ilya’s words are grim but his smile is blinding. “They are contagious.”

“Jesus Christ.” Cliff can’t help but laugh. It relaxes him, seeing Ilya like this. How, he’s not all that different really, other than the fact that he’s in love with his rival. Which, “I’ve been meaning to ask, just in case it comes up at the Wedding. Am I supposed to pretend I knew you two were together all along?”

Roz scoffs as he backs out of the parking spot. “Lie? I would not make you liar. No, you can tell truth. It’s funny that way.”

A part of Cliff relaxes, but still: “It’s also embarrassing that way. I mean, Roz, how the fuck did I not realize? All these years, Jane was…?”

Ilya shrugs lightly. “You will fit right in at wedding.”

“Fit in? How so?”

This time a mocking laugh. “No one believed me, really. Other than a few people, most did not know we were together until I sent invitations.” 

Cliff blinks twice, letting the words sink in. “What the fuck.”

Ilya’s grin is tight. “Yes. Very unbelievable apparently.” 

“It’s not that.” Cliff is quick to protest. “Fuck, man, you know how long I’ve been giving you shit about Jane. Obviously there’s a different name here, but the feelings are the same. You’re so fucking gone for him.”

Ilya’s shoulders sink. “It will be an adjustment.” He starts. Then stops, taking a deep breath and merging onto the main road out of town. “Loving him in the open. Not having to hide it.”

The words feel heavy between them and Cliff struggles to figure out what he should say. Finally, “I’m looking forward to getting to see it.” Ilya lets out a shaky breath and Cliff can’t help but add “And I’m looking forward to really getting to know Hollander for once. Gotta see if he’s good enough for you.”

A shocked bite of laughter. “Good enough for me? Marlow. What? Have you met him?”

Cliff avoids Ilya’s quick glance over with an exaggerated shrug. The tense air in the car has dissipated. 

Ilya is still going, “This is Shane Hollander. Hockey’s good boy. As if I- I can’t even believe!” 

Cliff lets him sputter out a few more half formed protests before he asks his next question. “Who the fuck knew already?”

It takes Ilya a second to answer, then “Shane’s parents, Rose and Svetlana, Pike.”

“What the fuck? Hayden Pike knew and I didn’t?” Cliff is actually half pissed. He hadn’t thought he’d feel so strongly about this.

Ilya waves a hand lazily in the air. “Pike got lucky. Guessed. Shane is horrible liar.” A beat, then with a mean grin “If you had guessed, I would of told you.”

“Fuck you.” Cliff spits out, but he can’t bring himself to really mean it. “Wait, your new teammates didn’t know?” At Ilya’s no headshake, Cliff laughs. “What? Why did they think you moved to Ottawa then?”

Ilya’s grin matches his. “I was vague. No direct answer. But they had ideas. They were the most shocked, I think. About Shane.”

Cliff raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Again Ilya waves a hand. “You knew about Jane. You knew I was in love for years. They didn’t. I think they thought the wedding was sign of mental breakdown. They did an intervention.”

Cliff makes a very unattractive noise at that. “An intervention? Because you said you were in love with Shane Hollander? What, did they just show up at your house or something?”

Ilya’s shoulders are shaking with withheld laughter. “Yes. They showed up at the cottage. Shane’s cottage. Where I was, with Shane.”

Cliff is fully losing it now. “They tried to give you an intervention about Hollander with Hollander there? What the fuck?”

The rest of the drive passes with Ilya’s retelling of the failed intervention. Cliff, through his laughter, forgets he’s nervous to meet Hollander in the official capacity as Ilya’s fiance. It’s not until Ilya pulls down a long and winding driveway that Cliff has a half formed thought that he thought he’d be more nervous about this. Something, though, about the two hour drive catching up with Ilya, seeing how more at ease Ilya was now, how much more settled he was, had calmed something deep in Cliff. He was mostly just excited.

As they are getting out of the car Cliff distantly hears a door click open and then, loud and booming from Ilya, “Anya!” followed by an equally loud and excited bark from a zooming brown rush of fur. 

Cliff can’t help the small snort of amusement he lets out as he takes in Ilya Rozanov, laid flat on the concrete, being smothered in dog kisses. 

An answering chuckle shifts Cliff’s focus. Shane Hollander is leaning against the doorway, also watching the two scuffle in the driveway. He’s dressed casually, sport shorts and button down linen top that definitely don’t match. His hair is a bit longer than it was during the season, but the look suits him.

Cliff shrugs his bag over his shoulder and makes his way up to the front door, offering out a hand in greeting when Shane’s smile shifts to him. “Hollander, good to see you man.” 

Shane’s hand is firm in his, and Cliff catches the way his shoulders slightly tighten. “Marlow. Thank you for making the trip out. It means a lot to Ilya.”

The man in question is still on the ground next to the jeep, mumbled baby talk to his dog drifting over. Cliff shoots Ilya another smile. “It was long overdue, Jane.”

Shane’s groan is half assed. “Can we not acknowledge that, maybe?” But his eyes are glinting as he returns Cliff’s smirk.

“Nope. I’m planning on having it in my best man's speech. Gotta get Roz back somehow.”

Shane’s eyes flicker over his face for a long second, as if he’s checking to see if Cliff is telling the truth. Whatever he must find, Shane sighs. “My dad is going to laugh so hard at that. Rose, too, probably.” A beat, then “Well come on in. Let’s get you settled in.” He waves Cliff in, showing him where to put his shoes and leads the way further into the cottage. 

“So,” Cliff starts as he follows Shane into the kitchen, “Roz said something about an intervention you got to witness?”

Shane’s laugh is bright and unrestrained, echoing off the walls.

***

His next trip to Ottawa is just a few short weeks later. Wedding weekend. 

The ceremony is on Saturday, but most guests get in on Thursday and Friday. Cliff has a whole day of “Wedding Practice” as Ilya has taken to calling it on Friday, which, while it was very entertaining, especially seeing as Hayden Pike ended up as Shane’s best man and Cliff finally has someone to lament with over how insane their current situation is, it is also a very taxing day. Finally, hours later at dinner, at an open ended pre reception in the wedding venue, Cliff finds himself parked at the bar, nursing a beer slowly. He doesn't want to get drunk, especially with the early alarm he has set for the following morning, but a little something to take the edge off is needed. 

“Exhausting, isn’t it?” Comes a friendly voice next to him.

Cliff turns his head to meet the wide smile of Wyatt Hayes. Ilya’s new goalie. He raises his half finished beer. “Cheers to that.”

Hayes seems to take the small acknowledgement as an invitation, which it half way was, and slides into the bar stool next to Cliff. “My wedding was sure a hell of a lot smaller than this, and even that was too much for me.”

Cliff nods slowly, the large room for the ceremony floating through his head from earlier. “I can’t even imagine what it’s been like to plan this. I’ve only seen parts of behind the curtain and shiver at imagining a full look.”

Hayes chuckles next to him and gestures to the bar tender for a beer. “They’ve been busy all summer. We’ve tried to help out where we could, the Centaurs, I mean.” At Cliff’s nod he continues. “But, well, we all love Holly, but we quickly learned it was best to leave the big decisions to him.”

“That sounds like there’s a story there.” Cliff turns fully to face Hayes. He’s met Ilya’s new teammates multiple times over the last seasons and for all he enjoys beating them, he can also admit they’re a good bunch.

Hayes’ grin is contagious. “Bood offered to make some changes to the menu. Like, some major changes. And let’s just say, Roz had a fun time cleaning that mess up when he said yes before asking Holly.”

Cliff shakes his head slowly, a matching grin on his face. “Roz is really down bad, isn’t he?”

“Yep.” Hayes says the word with so much joy, Cliff is doing busy restraining his laughter to notice the presence settling in on his other side. “Evenin, Barrett. You surviving?” Wyatt calls out, head leaning slightly over to look over Cliff’s shoulder.

“No.” Comes a much less joyful reply. Cliff shuffles back in his seat and shoots Troy Barrett a sympathetic grin. The man had also been with them for most of the day, tagging along with Harris, who’d introduced himself to Cliff as the Centaurs social media manager and head of Ilya’s videographer team. 

“Twenty four hours, then it’ll all be over.” Hayes offered up. 

Barrett’s groan was painful. At Cliff’s smirk, Barrett sent him a weak glare. “Twenty four hours and then it’s over for some of us, maybe. But you know as well as I do, Hayes, we’re trapped with this forever.”

“Ah. Yes, I guess congrats are in order for your new teammate.” Cliff had been filled in on the move during his tux fitting, an awkward encounter where he tried to hug a tearful Roz and managed to stick both of them with the multiple needles holding together his new suit jacket. He wasn’t surprised, now, on top of everything else, that Holly was leaving Montreal. Anyone with eyes had seen the Voyagers fall apart last season and it for sure hadn’t been due to Shane’s actions. The move was still a secret, but from the sounds of it, Ilya had told the team. 

The two Centaurs players stiffened slightly on both sides of Cliff and he caught them shooting each other wide eyed looks before Hayes finally managed a stifled laugh. “Yes, well. As Barrett said, we really are all in this forever now.”

Cliff nodded slowly, taking a small sip. “You know, I’ve played with both of them on a team at the All Stars one year. Of course, I wasn’t aware of the lovey dovey of it all, but by god, they are a beast on the ice.”

Troy was nodding next to him. “It’s like no one else exists.”

Hayes’ beer arrived and he clinked his glass against Cliff’s before he took a sip and said, “So I hear you were also a part of the oblivious group, Marlow.”

It was Cliff’s turn to groan. “Yes, though now in retrospect, they were so fucking obvious.”

Hayes’ cackle and Troy’s suffering sigh met his answer. Hayes was practically wiggling in his seat when he asked, “Roz said he thought you would have figured it out, over the years. How long did you know something was going on?”

Cliff took a long sip, struggling to remember a time where Roz wasn’t glued to his phone. “Forever.” He finally decided on. “There was always Jane. Roz’s Montreal girl. Never saw him go that crazy about anyone else. Looking back, I don’t think I would have ever guessed it was Hollander then, but then, the move to Ottawa? And everything else? It’s embarrassing I didn’t put it together.”

Hayes gave a sympathetic hum, but Barrett snorted next to him. His own beer had arrived and he was staring down at it as he offered up, “Hey, at least you didn’t call Holly a babe to Roz’s face.” 

Hayes' laughter surrounded them as Cliff gaped at Barrett. The man didn’t look up but his cheeks were slowly turning red.

“You-, what?” Cliff managed, the words replaying in his mind. 

“God, this is one of my favorite stories.” Hayes was giggling.

Barrett struggled for a moment, before he sighed. “Roz took me out to Hunter’s bar, my first season with the Centaurs. Came out to me that night too.” He paused. “And, well, we may have gotten to talking about other queer players in the NHL.”

“And you called Shane Hollander a babe!” Hayes butted in when Barrett paused again, still laughing.

Cliff couldn’t help but join in as he imagined the situation. “And you survived to tell the tale?”

Barrett grumbled for a second. “Roz knew I was crushing on Harris, thankfully. So I don’t think he saw me as a real threat.” 

Cliff was full on laughing now, the stress of the day falling off his shoulders as he imagined that interaction going down. “Oh boy. And you still didn’t believe him when he said he was with Holly?”

Hayes and Barrett exchanged another glance before Barrett shrugged. “I got it the second I saw the two of them together, at the cottage.”

“Ah.” Cliff smiled. “The intervention.”

It was Hayes’ turn to let out a painful groan. “Oh god, don’t tell me Roz has told everyone about that.” 

“Hey, see it this way.” Cliff offered up, “It goes to show how much love you guys have for him. Lord knows Roz gets himself into some crazy shit sometimes. Who are you guys to blame for assuming this wasn’t just that?”

Hayes' thankful grin loosens up the air again. Barrett takes a sip of his beer before he finally turns to face Cliff, “So, what kind of shit did Roz get up to in Boston?”

Cliff leans back with a smirk. “Oh god, I think the better question is what did Roz not do?”

***

The wedding ceremony itself is beautiful. Sure, three months ago, Cliff Marlow would have called you crazy if you had told him he would be tearing at Shane Hollander’s wedding vows or that he would be openly crying at the pure joy radiating from Ilya when he said “I do.” But things happen and three months later, here he is.

It all passed by in a blur. Anya, trotting down the aisle, collar decked out in matching floral. Shane’s mother walking Shane down the aisle. Shane’s father walking Ilya. The grin Cliff shared with Pike as they passed over the matching rings. The vows and exchanged promises that left hardly a dry eye in the entire audience. Ilya’s wild whoop at the very end when they were announced husbands. First husbands of hockey, as Pike would later call them in his speech. Cliff’s own speech, gathering many laughs as he recounted the early days of Ilya and Jane. The pure love surrounding Shane and Ilya the entire day. 

A whirlwind of activity that didn’t stop until, in a deja vu moment, Cliff found himself at the bar Saturday night. 

The bartender was different, someone Cliff vaguely recognized. As if noticing he was getting stared at, he stopped in front of Cliff with a grin and outstretched hand. “Kyle. We’ve met at Kingfisher.”

Click. “Ah, yes, thank you. Cliff Marlow.” Cliff shook Kyle’s hand. “You’re Bennett’s boy, aren’t you?”

“My partner, yes.” Came a voice beside him, Eric Bennett moving to rest an arm against the bar top, his outstretched fingers reaching for Kyle’s hand. Scott Hunter and his husband, Kip, weren’t far behind Bennett. Cliff had seen all of them on and off the past two days, but in the mess of the ceremony, yet to have a chance to say a proper hello.

“Bennett.” He said with a nod, “Kip. Hunter.” Cliff offered a hand out to shake. “Congrats on the win.”

Bennett’s huff of laughter and Kip’s amused grin answered Hunter’s deep sigh. “Thank you, Marlow.” Hunter’s words were forced, but his handshake was steady.

“You’re the first person to mention it.” Kip says in a slightly lower voice as Hunter pulls out his wallet and passes Kyle a five dollar bill. 

“Thank you Marlow.” Kyle said with a wink before he moved down the bar to serve the next waiting customer. 

“Wait, were you guys betting on how long it would take for someone to bring up the cup?” Cliff couldn’t believe it. Yeah sure, the wedding stuff had kept them busy, but he knew with almost certainty that everyone here had watched the final match a few weeks back. This was a wedding between two hockey players after all. 

“It was Roz’s idea.” Bennett offered up, with earned an eye roll from Hunter.

“It’s fine.” Hunter grunted. “We are here to,” he grimaced on the next word. “Celebrate, Hollander and Rozanov.” 

Kip giggled at his husband, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. “That’s right. Look, I’m going to help Kyle out a bit. Get over the first rush. Behave.” He shot a look at Bennett and Cliff. “Make sure he avoids Ilya, at least until he gets two drinks in. Then he’ll forget to pretend to be annoyed.” Hunter’s grumble was a very different image of the Admirals Captain Cliff knew. He couldn’t help but share a grin with Bennett as Hunter parked himself stiffly onto a free bar stool.

“Well, this is a little surreal.” Cliff offered up just as the silence was stretching too uncomfortable. At Bennett’s questioning hum, he continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many hockey players in one place without a competition or awards show going on.”

Hunter scoffed. “Oh, this is a show. An Ilya Rozanov was right all along show.” Hunter was glaring out across the reception hall, but Cliff caught the way his eyes softened when his gaze found Shane and Ilya, still wrapped up in each other on the dance floor. 

“Well, I for one think Rozanov has earned it.” Bennett offered up, voice neutral. “With us all not believing him and everything.”

Cliff snorted. “God, we are really such idiots, aren’t we?” He was still stuck staring at Shane and Ilya with Hunter. The two were so wrapped up in each other, it was as if the whole wedding around them wasn’t there. As if, their entire world was right in front of them. Cliff would probably find it sickening if he wasn’t so happy for Ilya.

“Kip knew.” Hunter admitted slowly. “Apparently it was really obvious.” 

“I mean, he fucking told me and I still didn’t get it so that really is on me.” Cliff offered up.

“He also told me.” Hunter met Cliff’s eyes with a suffering look. “During a freaking chirp on the ice, if you’d believe it.”

Cliff couldn’t help his bark of laughter. “That sounds like Roz.”

The three of them went quiet again, watching the newlyweds. 

“Kyle has a theory.” Bennett said quietly. “That for all of us, who knew them first on the ice, were a bit blinded by the personas they both put up. Apparently it was quite obvious from an outsider's perspective.”

“I could see that.” Cliff nodded. It would certainly explain his own experiences, except-

“I just don’t get it.” Hunter was saying. “How could Holly see that, who Roz is on the ice, and go, hey, I want that?”

Ilya had told Cliff about his attempt to come out to Scott Hunter. They had both laughed way too hard over his recounting and Cliff felt the similar bubbles of laughter build up in his stomach as he realized he’d soon have his own story to trade back with Ilya.

“Oh,” he started casually. “You didn’t know?” As Bennett and Hunter’s gazes met his, Cliff let the smirk he’s been holding back loose. “They’ve always been this. Hollander and Rozanov.”

A beat, then Bennett’s shocked laughter. “Always?”

Cliff nodded, and repeated the words that had rocked his world then. “Since before the first time they ever stepped out on NHL ice. It’s always been them.”

Hunter was staring, mouth slightly open as Bennett laughed softly behind him. Cliff let himself soak up the shock on Hunter’s face as he leaned in and said. “Crazy, isn’t it. The realization that we’ve never known Roz without Shane Hollander?”

Those were the words that finally broke Hunter.

“Kyle!” Hunter called out, panic lacing his words. “Give me a shot of the strongest liquor you have. No, two shots.”

Cliff met Bennett’s eyes over Hunter’s back before the two of them were laughing again, Hunter’s panicked cries echoing between them. 

“It is crazy.” Bennett managed. “But now that I know, there’s no way I could ever not see it.” 

A quick turn back to the dance floor. Ilya’s wide smile, illuminating, even from this distance as he said something to his husband with exaggerated hand gestures. Shane’s wide eyes, glued to Ilya’s every movement his hands held out, holding on to Ilya as if he was his rock in the chaos around them. The two of them, so undeniably in love it was impossible to imagine them any other way. 

Cliff couldn’t agree more.

Chapter End Notes

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who's read and supported this fic!! These past 6 weeks have been extremely stressful for various reasons but Ao3 has become a safe haven during those times thanks to all of you!!

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