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“Shane. Shane! Shane!!”
The race had just ended, and the low thrum of the crowd waiting for the podium ceremony isn’t enough to block out his husband’s incessant chatter.
”What,” Shane huffs.
”Do you think any of them ever…” Ilya wriggles his eyebrows, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
Shane scrunches his eyebrows together and shakes his head in a “what” gesture.
“I mean, so many beautiful men, some of them have to be fucking,” Ilya continues, much to Shane’s dismay. “You know, statistically.”
“Ilya, there are only twenty-two of them, I feel like the odds are actually not that high.”
”No, no, they are high. Is not same people every year, yes? So there are more than just twenty drivers to consider.”
”Twenty-two,” Shane mutters. They are literally guests of the newly minted eleventh team, Ilya should know how many drivers there are.
When the Cadillac F1 team had reached out to Yuna with an invite for the men to attend the Canadian Grand Prix, Ilya had nearly erupted with excitement. Shane was indifferent, if not hesitant to accept due to the inevitable media responsibilities during the off season. The Centaur’s elimination in the second round of the playoffs had been devastating, though not surprising this year; but, it did provide them with a slightly longer break and Shane didn’t particularly want to spend it working.
His argument that they could just buy their own tickets was immediately shut down because “it’s different when you are guest,” which Shane couldn’t even push back on because he knew from experience that was true.
And let’s be honest, as soon as he saw that giddy grin on Ilya’s face, Shane was always going to say yes.
Now, sitting at the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve on a perfectly sunny Montreal afternoon, Shane is glad they came. Although, he can’t help but wish they had been invited by a better team. Cadillac had retired a car after the first few laps and the other finished last of the remaining 16 cars that finished the race. Shane knows this is an incredibly snobby take, but what can he say, he likes winning. Maybe next year, McLaren will invite them. Well, as long as they fix their car.
And yes, Shane is already thinking about and possibly even looking forward to next year. While Ilya had been excited about the shiny, fast cars (and apparently the beautiful men), Shane accidentally dove a little too deep into the sport of it all. And now it’s a thing... He may or may not have spent every waking hour of the past few weeks researching and watching old races. He likes to be prepared! And he undeniably impressed Valtteri Bottas with his knowledge, so he knows he’s won the weekend.
“I could see our boys being like us,” Ilya says, forcing Shane to engage in the previously one-sided conversation. By “our boys”, Ilya definitely means the McLaren drivers. Shane’s favorite driver is Oscar Piastri, the cool, calm, collected, and cutthroat Australian. Conversely, Ilya’s favorite is Lando Norris, the British defending World Champion who has a slight party-boy reputation but Ilya claims is a “golden retriever”. He also likes that Lando is open about his mental health struggles, something that both men know is not easy in the world of professional sports.
Hockey and Formula 1 couldn’t be more different, but Shane does find it fun that they can see themselves in their respective chosen drivers. An athlete is an athlete.
“Who do you think is top and bottom?”
”Ilya, this is incredibly reductive. And maybe homophobic?”
”I cannot be homophobic, Shane, I love homos.” He then has the audacity to lift his hand up and squeeze Shane’s cheek. His now rather pink cheek. Shane hates his life.
Since the conversation is clearly going to continue with or without his consent, Shane figures he might as well contribute something.
“Okay, fine. I think they switch, but Lando’s more of a bottom.”
”But Oscar has bottom eyes,” Ilya argues.
”Bottom eyes?”
”Yes, Shane, bottom little yearning eyes. Like yours. I know them when I see them.”
That comment earns Ilya a punch in the arm.
“I do agree that they switch sometimes,” Ilya continues, unphased. “They are not like us in that way,” he winks. Shane rolls his eyes. “Okay, who else?”
”Well, Russell kind of hates Verstappen. So maybe them,” Shane says. Against his will. He’s not having fun talking about this, at all.
”Ooh, enemies to lovers, just like us.”
”We were never enemies.”
”Okay fine, rivals,” Ilya corrects. “Or maybe, reason Russell hates Verstappen is because he is in love with him, but cannot have him. Is… what is word for ‘not returned’?”
”Unrequited.”
”Yes, is unrequited loved. Because Verstappen is in love with Leclerc.” Ilya pronounces neither “unrequited” nor “Leclerc” correctly, but Shane just laughs.
”They can’t all be gay, Ilya,” Shane says and receives an exasperated groan from Ilya in response.
”You are no fun. Besides, have you seen Centaurs? We are all gay. We are world’s gayest team!”
”Fair enough.” Shane really can’t argue that particular statistic. They are indeed the gayest team.
“Okay, who else, Shane? Is your turn.”
”No, I just went!”
”Yes, but I add flavor to yours for my turn. Besides you know more about drivers than me.” Shane feels slightly smug, because it’s true. He does know more.
”Okay, Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg. “
”Who is Nico Rosberg? He was not on study guide.”
“It wasn’t a study guide, it was just a reference guide,” Shane grumbles.
”Yes, yes, reference guide. So who is Rosberg?”
”Do you remember when I told you about Brocedes?” Ilya’s eyes widen in excited recognition. “He was the other Merc driver then.”
”Oh yes, I like this one very much. Though seems to have sad ending.”
”Well, not everyone can be us.”
“Mmm, yes. Very sad,” Ilya says, squeezing Shane’s hand. “I like the idea of doing one that is not rivals, but they are all rivals. Even teammate is rival in F1.”
”Yeah, but they’re all allowed to be friends too. Like Russell and Albon are friends. And Sainz and Leclerc.”
”Is not just PR friendship?”
”No, I think it’s real. Besides, you and I of all people know that you can leave the rivalry on the ice. Or track, I guess.”
”This is true,” Ilya muses. “But that is why I like Norris and Piastri best. They are teammates and rivals, like us.”
”I’m pretty sure they both have girlfriends.”
”Do not make me think of Rose Landry, Shane, I am trying to have nice day.”
”I didn’t even mention Rose! Besides, you love Rose.”
”Well, yes, now that you legally belong to me, I tolerate Rose.” This is not true, Shane knows for a fact Ilya loves Rose, because he had told him that after the two got drunk together on Shane’s 30th birthday.
”I could divorce you.”
”No, Yuna would not allow scandal. Besides, I am their favorite son. You are stuck with me.”
”Unfortunately,” Shane replies with a fond smile.
The two fall into a comfortable silence as the podium ceremony begins. When Kimi Antonelli steps onto the podium in P1, Shane leans over to Ilya, having to slightly shout above the crowd.
”Did you know he’s only nineteen? Can you believe we were ever that young?”
”And to think you were already in love with me,” Ilya says.
”No, I wasn’t! You were in love with me.”
”Okay, okay. We were both just curious.”
Shane smiles, remembering one of their first ever hotel room conversations.
“Just like Lando and Oscar are curious about each other,” Ilya says, ruining the moment.
”Shut up.”
”Shane, he has bottom little yearning eyes, I am just saying truth!”
Shane hates his life, but he can’t help but nuzzle into his husband as the Italian national anthem plays.