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  1. Drastic Measures (go back to standing in the corner, Hollander) by

    Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
    • E
    • ?
    • ✓

    2026-01-07

    “What are you doing?” Hollander asks, even though he is well aware that he has caused an avalanche. “I'm going to show you what can happen to boys like you when they forget their underwear.” OR: Shane comes home drunk and says he was at a bar with a man who repeatedly hit on him. Ilya resorts to drastic measures. It is a late December evening. It is already completely dark outside, and the snow-covered road leading to the cottage seems to disappear into the darkness, unlit by any of the motion- activated lamps. The temperature outside has dropped by a good dozen degrees compared to what it felt like in the morning, and Ilya feel that his home is not any warmer. He is terribly cold, his numb hands are shaking uncontrollably, and his legs, wrapped in a blanket, seem to be shaking as he nervously looks out the window. For a Russian, he does not tolerate the Canadian winter very well and has already fallen ill in the second week, which has ruled him out of training and matches until he finishes his course of antibiotics. This is hopeless, because he feels fine, is not contagious, has not had a fever for several days, and yet he will have to stay at home for another four days. He tried to calm his nerves in various ways: he prepared lunch boxes for Shane, watched a replay of the match, played a silly game about hockey, on the cover of which he once accidentally found himself, tried to finish reading a book, but it didn't help. He was still distracted and, above all, terrified. It's almost midnight, Shane finished playing the home game, which he lost about four hours ago, but he still hasn't come back. Ilya had sent several threatening text messages and even more messages saying, where the fuck are you, hollander, finally ending with a desperate sweetheart, im worried, and had called dozens of times, but Shane still wasn't answering. Ilya wasn't the type of boyfriend to panic and call as soon as his beloved was late. He probably wouldn't have considered the delay to be anything terrible, had it not been for the events of the past: that nightmarish night when he found his mother, that one terrible match during which he stood paralysed on the ice, watching as the semi-conscious Hollander was carried away on a stretcher. In addition, Shane was never the party type who would go to a bar after a match, whether they won or lost. He only celebrated big wins, usually for an hour or two, sipping ginger ale, already planning his escape to his quiet home in the back of his mind. Ilya tries to rationalise that there was no accident during the match and that the situation with Irina Rozanov is not something that could happen again with Shane. At least, that is what he hopes. Despite everything, the fear remains, and that voice is louder than the rational part of Rozanov's mind. He could have had a car accident on the ice- and snow-covered streets. The man is about to call Yuna, or even the police, when the door opens and a flushed, laughing Shane bursts through the door. His cheeks are red from the cold, and his eyes are shining with joy, and although the weight lifts from Ilya's heart, he immediately notices that Shane is drunk as a skunk. "Ilyaaaa!" he shouts from the doorway, throwing himself into his arms. "I missed you!" The man returns the hug and all the fervent kisses that Shane begins to shower him with after a moment, but he knows that in the situation they find themselves in, he has to talk to the man. "You've been drinking." Ilya states rather than asks, looking at his red cheeks and glassy eyes, his distracted smile and exposed neck. "It's fucking December, where's your scarf?" Shane's enthusiasm wanes a little when he sees Ilya's reaction. "Are you angry?" he asks, lowering his head like a scolded child. "I'm angry that you didn't text me to say you'd be late. I was worried," he says, letting Shane hug him again, while trying to warm his numb hands and shoulders. "I swear, I was only at the bar with Wilson for a moment, I didn't drink much, you didn't need to worry," Shane assures him, as if alcohol was the cause of Ilya's concern. And although Rozanov had been more worried than angry until now, the name hit him like a slap in the face. The man had repeatedly tried to flirt with Shane, indiscreetly suggesting a meeting at his place, ignoring Ilya's existence, and once brazenly tried to kiss Shane in Ilya's presence, so, well, the man had a right to feel jealous. "With who, excuse me?" Ilya asks angrily. "With Wilson, you know, the hockey player from..." "I know who Wilson is. Did it ever occur to you for a single fucking second that he was trying to get you drunk in the hope that you would become easy?" Shane is still standing between the hallway and the sofa, his eyes wide open, now bewildered by the man's anger. He can't remember the last time, if ever, Ilya was so jealous and angry during their relationship.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    2,193
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Files:
    1
    AO3:
    #77257941