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  1. He Hit Him and it Felt like a Kiss by

    Heated Rivalry (TV), Heated Rivalry (TV) RPF
    • G
    • ✓

    2026-02-25

    When Ilya throws a punch on the ice after a homophobic remark, Shane hates seeing Ilya hurt. They don’t argue and where Shane’s tears finally stop the fight. The locker room is a pressure cooker, but they don’t crack. Not there. Shane keeps his face carefully neutral while he changes, answers a teammate’s joke with the right tone, the right smile. Ilya can feel him watching anyway. Can feel the heat of it without ever looking up. His knuckles throb, split and swollen, but he keeps his hands busy, tapes them himself, jaw locked. When their eyes meet, Shane gives the smallest nod. You good? Ilya nods back. Later. Later is a long drive home with the radio on low and neither of them speaking. Later is the apartment door clicking shut behind them, the quiet rushing in too fast. Shane drops his bag by the door. “I didn’t like that you fought him.” Ilya exhales through his nose. Here we go. “You weren’t supposed to.” “I saw it,” Shane says. “I heard it. I didn’t like it.” “He crossed a line.” “I know,” Shane replies. “That doesn’t mean you had to break your hand.” Ilya turns, irritation flaring. “It’s hockey.” “That’s not an answer.” “It is,” Ilya snaps. “This happens every night.” “And every night I hate it,” Shane shoots back. “I hate watching you get hurt.” Ilya scoffs. “I’m fine.” “You’re bleeding,” Shane says. “You’re always bleeding.” Ilya bristles. “So what, you want me to just stand there?” “No,” Shane says, frustrated. “I want you to stop acting like violence is the only language you have.” That stings. “I didn’t fight because I don’t know any better,” Ilya says coldly. “I fought because someone said something about you.” “And I didn’t ask you to,” Shane fires back. “I don’t want to be the excuse you use to wreck yourself.” “Don’t do that,” Ilya says. “Don’t make it sound like I regret it.” “I’m not,” Shane says. “I’m saying I don’t like watching you pay the price.” “You don’t get to decide how I play,” Ilya snaps. “I’m not trying to,” Shane says. “I’m telling you how it feels to sit there and watch you throw your body into something that could cost you games, seasons, careers—” “So now I’m irresponsible,” Ilya interrupts. “No,” Shane says. “You’re reckless.” Silence slams down between them. Ilya’s voice drops. “You knew who I was.” “And you knew who I was,” Shane shoots back. “Someone who worries. Someone who loves you enough to be scared.” “That’s not my fault.” “I didn’t say it was,” Shane says. “But it is my reality.” Ilya runs a hand through his hair, pacing now. “You think the league is going to protect you? You think refs give a shit?” “I think you getting suspended doesn’t help me,” Shane snaps. “I think you getting concussed doesn’t help me. I think you bleeding on the ice because someone wanted to get under your skin about me doesn’t help either of us.” “So I should just let them say it,” Ilya says bitterly. “Let them think it’s okay.” “I’m asking you to trust me to handle my own battles,” Shane says. “I don’t need you throwing punches for me like I’m made of glass.” “I’m not protecting you because you’re weak,” Ilya says. “I’m protecting you because I love you.” “And I love you,” Shane fires back, voice breaking just a little, “which is why I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself.” “That’s dramatic,” Ilya snaps. “It was one fight.” “It’s never one fight,” Shane says. “It’s always one more.” “You don’t get to cherry-pick parts of me,” Ilya says. “Hockey is violent. You don’t get me without that.”

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    1,615
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Files:
    1
    AO3:
    #80209841