Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

25 February 2026

The air in the Palaghiaccio Le Pinete was chilly and cold, the scent of winter fraying at the ends.

Ah. The perfect time for ice skating.

See, Kimi had promised his sister that they'd do something fun. He’s barely able to see her now that he's a full-time F1 driver and has to travel around the globe every weekend. Besides, he had just carried the Olympic Flame a few days prior, so he's been in the Winter Games flow. Thus, their current predicament.

Kimi was tightening his skates’ laces when Maggie stood up, grabbing his arm and nagging. “Hurry up, Kimi! You're taking too long!”

Kimi grumbled, shrugging his sister's hand off. “Wait, wait, I'm almost finished.” Pulling the loops of his laces, he was finally satisfied with how they looked and felt, head tilting up at Maggie with a smirk on his face. “All done. All right then, let's hit the ice!”

Now, has Kimi ever ice skated before? Absolutely not. Ice and Kimi do not mix, as much as people would like to argue otherwise. But Maggie wanted to, and who is he to deny her?

Her face lit up at the permission, eyes wide and sparkling. Her sight was immediately set on the vast expanse of ice, and she did an awkward sort of waddle-step to reach it. It looked easy enough. At least, Maggie made it look easy enough. Just stand up and start walking, right?

Dead wrong.

Using the bench he was sitting on, Kimi pushed up and off from his sitting position, regretting that decision almost immediately when he was barely able to keep his balance. Huffing, he forced himself to take small steps, getting closer and closer to the rink. Meanwhile, Maggie was having the genuine best time of her life, one foot gliding over the other as she circles the rink.

The second Kimi stepped on the ice, his feet were unable to adapt to the slippery surface. For Kimi, adapting to race cars is easy; the feeling of the engine revving beneath his feet serving to soothe him.  But this? Near impossible. His feet widened as the ice around him chipped and scratched, hands gripping the railing for some semblance of support.

From the other side of the rink, he could hear Maggie laughing at him. First of all, how dare she? Second of all, he paid for all of this and drove them there and she still had the audacity to laugh? This child was impossible. 

“Yeah, yeah, keep laughing,” he muttered under his breath, pulling himself up only to lose balance again. “Merda, this is embarrassing,” he whispered, mostly to himself, slumping miserably on the ice as Maggie left him to practice some (honestly terrible looking) jumps and spins. Suffering in silence, is what he'd call his current situation. 

Kimi kind of gave up at that point.

His eyes were closed, focused on the sounds of the blades scraping the ice. In a sense, it was calming — an audible distraction to his pathetic attempt.

Then, from the entrance of the rink, Kimi’s ears picked up on the sound of another pair of skates hitting the ice. Unlike Maggie's uncoordinated scratches, this one sounded more… calculated. Like the skater — in contrast to Kimi — knew what they were doing. Like the skater belonged on the ice.

A pair of skates stopped in front of him. 

“Need help?,” the voice offered, extending a hand. Kimi guessed that he was speaking to him.

“Nah, mate, I quite like the feeling of ice on my ass,” Kimi responded, taking the hand in front of him. He wobbled as he stood, deft fingers grabbing the railing behind him. The skater merely chuckles at his response and oh, what a melodic sound.

Curious at who his saviour was, the Italian tilted his head, just to get a better look of the person in front of him. He was significantly taller than Kimi, but much more slender — wearing sleek black pants and a matching black form-fitting shirt that clung to every curve and crevice of his body. Eye candy, if you'd ask Kimi.

His eyes continued to wander until he reached his face and my god. Honey brown eyes met Kimi's own. His hair was slightly disheveled — or maybe just naturally messy like that — tiny bits of unruly curls framing his face.

“Mate, you all right? You have a bit of a staring problem,” the boy said with a warm laugh. Kimi's face flushed. He did not want to think about how the boy’s laugh made him feel.

“Sorry,” Andrea sheepishly apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. The skater seemed to have a flicker of recognition as Kimi's head fully tilted up at him.

“Hey, weren't you the guy who brought the Olympic Flame this year? I saw you!” Kimi simply stared at him in confusion. “Remember me?” And that's when the realization dawned on Kimi.

British, good at skating, charming looks, even more charming personality? That could only be one person he knew. Before he could say something, anything, Maggie beats him to it.

“Oliver Bearman!,” she beamed from across the rink. So that's why he seemed familiar. Oliver James Bearman. It was all starting to click for Kimi.

“Someone's a fan,” Ollie crossed his arms as he spoke. “And you are?”

“Maggie Antonelli.” Oliver's eyes widened momentarily before quickly smoothing it back to an almost amused expression. He looked at Kimi, then at Maggie, then at Kimi again. He pointed a thumb at Kimi, saying, “he's your brother?” Maggie nodded.

“Well, clearly someone took the skating gene. Good job.” Kimi's eyes narrowed in offense. Ollie caught the glare with a smirk and a shrug. “What? It's the truth.”

“You don't know that,” Kimi half grumbled, half mumbled, eyes darting towards the ice cold ground. “Mate, you can't even stand up. I thought you knew how to at least step on the ice.”

Maggie stared at Kimi with a blank expression. She then shrugged, saying “none of my business,” and left. Not before waving Ollie goodbye as she resumed skating, of course.

And now, Ollie and Kimi were left alone. Kimi was still leaning on the railings, eyes closed, breathing slowly returning back to its patterned in-and-out. Kimi could feel Ollie’s gaze on him. It was intense, it was assessing, and it was driving Kimi mad. The Italian cracked an eye open. “What?” Kimi’s voice came out more defensive than he intended and he regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth.

He sighed, pinching his nose bridge. “What?” Kimi repeated, softer this time. Ollie hummed in response. “You’re shit at skating,”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Kimi interjected, voice laced with annoyance.

“I’m not done talking yet, idiot. I mean, if you need help with skating, I can teach you.”

Kimi raised a brow. Teach him? Ollie? Ollie teach him? Yeah right. “You’d do that?” Ollie waved his hand in dismissal. “I’ve done masterclasses for seven year-olds, this can’t be any different, right?”

Kimi nodded. Maybe he’d be slightly dumber than a seven year-old, but as long as he can step on the ice without falling flat on his face, he’d count it as a win. “Deal.”

Kimi’s hands were on Oliver’s shoulder as the latter guided him across the ice. Ollie taught him a simple step, step, glide movement to make it easier to skate. And Maggie? Maggie, as it turned out, wanted to go skating because apparently her friends were taking ice skating lessons without her. Good to know his sister just brought him for the ride. 

“You can let go of my shoulder now. Your stability’s good,” Ollie's voice brought him out of his stupor. Kimi shook his head furiously. “Do you want me to die?”

Ollie gave him a deadpan stare. His hands were ghosting his waist, prepared to catch him if he falls. “Genuinenly offended that you think I’m that stupid. I'll catch you, I promise.” Kimi shook his head once more and Ollie rolled his eyes. “Come on, Antonelli. You’ve been taught by a professional — and for free as well! At least try?”

Kimi, from his eyes being glued to his feet, looked up and his movements nearly faltered when their eyes locked. He could spend days looking into those beautiful brown eyes, warm honey surrounding every part of him. Subconsciously, he responded with a “sì, sì, wait.” Kimi did not want to know why he said that, but something tells him that it has something to do with the man in front of him.

One hand after the other, he slowly released his grip on Ollie's shoulders. His knees were slightly bent as he attempted to balance on the ice. Huh. He's not slipping and sliding. Fucking fantastic.

An incredulous chuckle slipped past his lips as his spine fully straightened. “I'm doing it, Ollie! Look, look, I'm doing it!” He received a small laugh in return. “Yeah, you are! Look at that!” Ollie took a step back, allowing Kimi to move more freely, using the same step, step, glide method — albeit the movements were still janky.

“Not that bad of a teacher.”

“You're not too bad of a student, actually.”

In the midst of his joy, Kimi then remembered what he was meant to ask Ollie when he first recognised the skater — something that had slipped his mind. He went on to say it. “What are you doing at Palaghiaccio anyways? Out of all the other skating rinks.”

They were skating along the edges of the rink, Kimi going forwards, Ollie skating backwards so he could still see Kimi face-to-face. “Originally, I came here to practice.” Kimi nodded his head. That's understandable. “I also heard there's good tiramisu nearby, but clearly I had a change of plans.”

“You like tiramisu?” And that's all Kimi caught from his words, to be honest. God, that’s embarrassing. Ollie nods anyway. “I know Italy has the best tiramisu, so why not? Good place, good food,” he paused, looking at Kimi schemingly. “Good looking people, too. The whole package. God bless Italy.”

Kimi flushed a soft pink. Ollie knew how to fluster him and they had just met, what, a few hours ago? Was he that easy to read?

Ollie checked his wristwatch. “Oh, I didn’t realise how long I took to teach you!” He frowned, face morphing into disappointment. “Mate, now the tiramisu shop’ll be too crowded!” Alarms blared inside Kimi's head, all telling him that disappointment didn't look good on Ollie. “Sorry…”

Ollie froze, cocking his head in confusion. “Sorry for what? I’m the one who offered to teach you.”

“But I was the one who took a long time to learn,” Kimi reasoned, but Ollie was having none of that. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “You’re a great student, Kimi. Besides, it’s your first time on the ice. You did a good job.” Man, this guy flattered him a lot. Kimi appreciated that.

“I know a tiramisu place downtown. It’s pretty quiet, and the food is amazing. Wanna go?”

Ollie blinked once, then twice. “You’d take me? What about Maggie?”

“Of course. Think of it as payment for the free lessons. And, Maggie’s going with her friends. I don’t want to be stuck in this place anymore.”

“Fair enough.”

Kimi brought Ollie to a small cafe, quiet and calm — uncharacteristically quiet, especially for one that claimed to have ‘the best tiramisu.”

The walls were made of stone, worn and eroded by time and rain, vines running up the sides. The pair were greeted with warm lights, though the weather was gloomy and cold. It felt so strangely domestic. Kimi shoved that thought down.

The wooden door opened with a hushed ring of a bell. Ollie stepped in first, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Kimi followed shortly after, instinctively walking towards the counter. “Ciao, zia Giulia. One tiramisu and one coffee, per favore.”

The lady behind the counter raised a brow, looking back-and-forth between the two before simply nodding, going to prepare their order. Shortly after, Kimi and Ollie sat at a table near a window, providing them a faint source of light. Kimi vaguely thought that Oliver looked ethereal — like an angel descended — with the light hitting him from the side, giving his features a soft glow. But again, he pushed it down and hoped what he was feeling was going to pass.

To be completely honest, Kimi thought that the wait would be awkward. In reality, it was not.

They talked a lot — and about everything. What driving a Formula One car’s like, what it feels like to be spinning in the air for a good five seconds or something, would they survive in each other's sports (the answer is no). You know, normal conversation starters. They also talked about non career related things. What colours each subject were (Kimi was adamant that math was red, Ollie disagreed), how their siblings were (this is where Kimi found out about Ollie’s two younger siblings), and just stupid bantering and bickering that honestly made Kimi like Ollie even more.

It felt good. During those minutes of waiting, Kimi learned a lot about Ollie. A lot of good things and a lot of bad things. That was good. That means Ollie trusted him enough to give him that information. For some reason, that made a warmth spread through Kimi’s chest.

Their food is delivered to their table. Of course, true to his word, Ollie did not hesitate to dig in, taking the initiative to reach for the spoon. The Brit took out a crescent-shaped piece of the dessert, then put it in his mouth. A satisfied ‘mmmh’ followed soon after. So he was serious about loving tiramisu. That's cute.

The moment the dessert entered his mouth, Ollie’s eyes lit up with what could only be described as wonder. He shoved another piece into his mouth, eating the treat like there was no tomorrow. It greatly amused Kimi, watching Ollie eat while sipping from the ceramic mug he was given.

Ollie must’ve caught the Italian staring because he looks up at Kimi mid-bite, mouth open as if frozen in time. “Oh, sorry, did you want a bite?” The Brit offered him a spoonful. Kimi’s eyes drifted towards the spoon as he forced himself to swallow the saliva accumulating in his mouth. Well, he can’t say no, right?

Kimi leaned forward, taking the spoon into his mouth.

Yeah, the tiramisu is good — incredible even — just like he remembered it. But most importantly, it tasted like Ollie, which was seriously doing things to Kimi's head. Might have changed his brain chemistry a little. Again, like before, he chalked it up to mere fascination and nothing more.

“You weren’t lying when you said they have the best tiramisu here. Better than the ones they had in the Olympics, actually.”

“I’ll make sure to tell that to Giulia.”

The two continued to chat while eating, throwing in a few jokes here and there, just playing around like they've known each other for a lifetime. It felt sincere, in a way. They could both open up to each other without feeling forced to. It was more like a pull in their chests or a click in their brains that just made them compelled. It was a strange feeling. A very, very strange feeling.

Kimi stood up to walk to the counter. He was paying while Ollie’s packing up his bag to leave. He tried not to look disappointed when he thought about Ollie leaving.

“Do you want me to take you back to your apartment?” Kimi offered, though he knows that deep down, it was just an excuse to get to spend more time with him. “Nah, mate, I’ll get a cab. Don’t bother, you’ve done enough for me already.” Ollie gave him a smile — and it’s not the one he shows to his fans while skating. Not the smile he gives when he’s got something to prove and everything to lose. It’s just Ollie. Kimi felt he looked better that way.

“Thanks for the tiramisu, mate. Best stuff ever. I’ll definitely be back for more.” A grin tugged at Kimi’s lips. “You’re welcome.”

As soon as he entered his home, a voice called out, “mama, Kimi’s back!” Ah, so Maggie’s back home already. Kimi’s mom greets him with a warm hug.

“Where have you been all day? Maggie said you went out.”

“Kimi has a boyfriend, mama!”

Kimi sent Maggie a glare from across the room, ears turning red. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. Just taking someone out to eat.”

Maggie, who somehow always had something to say, replied with, “that’s the definition of a date, scemo!”

A date. By some miracle, Kimi didn’t actually realise that what he and Ollie did could be classified as a date. “He just wanted food. I did a nice thing.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you like him!”

Before Kimi could retaliate, his mother broke their little quarrel up. “All right, enough, both of you. Maggie, let Kimi rest, okay?”

Surprisingly, Maggie let him off the hook.

Before he left, his mother had one more thing to say. “Andrea?”

“Si, mama?” He was halfway up the stairs when he spoke.

“Maggie is kidding, right? About the boyfriend?” His mother clutched the rosary at her neck. Kimi swallowed audibly. “Yeah, mama. She is.”

“Good.”

Kimi made his way to his bedroom, tossing his bag onto his bed, quickly following suit as he threw himself onto the mattress. He had way too much going on in his head. Naturally, he unpacked his bag, attempting to find his charger or something. And that’s when he found it: a small, neatly folded piece of paper at the bottom of his bag. Kimi did not leave a note in his bag — not before leaving and not while skating — which could only mean one thing: it was Oliver’s.

Like any normal person, he unfolded the note, skimming over the words. It read:

Fuck, Ollie was going to be the death of him.