Chapter Text
Ilya Rozanov didn’t follow any sport outside of hockey. However, Shane Hollander was quite a big fan of Formula One.
The Canadian had explained to Ilya once that, as a kid, Yuna and David used to take him to the races every year in Montreal.
The Russian loved to imagine a tiny version of Hollander, freckles and all, hoisted on his father’s shoulders, watching in wonder as the red race cars raced by.
It was part of the reason why Shane had felt so comfortable in Montreal when he first signed there. He had been almost giddy on the first day he moved. Shane had already seen parts of the city during those race weekends, and he had always loved how it came alive whenever F1 came to town. In a way, he already knew the people, the area, and the vibe.
So, when he finally moved to Montreal to play with the Metros, Shane had been overjoyed to be a step closer to his favourite sport. But as the years went by, it became harder and harder for him to attend. Despite the Canadian’s best attempts at blending in—wearing a new Ferrari shirt, sunglasses, and a hat each time—fans recognized the famous hockey player within seconds.
Shane had been so desperate that he even asked his coach for team paddock tickets, but he was always told that it was too much of an expense for the hockey team to take on. Complimentary tickets only went to those invited directly by sponsors or racing teams, and unfortunately, not a single luxury car brand was interested in bringing in a hockey player for their PR.
Well… not until a certain Russian player posted a photo of a sleepy Shane on social media, when he wasn’t even playing with the Metros anymore.
It had been taken around four or five in the morning, depicting Shane bundled beneath a blanket on their couch. The Canadian sat securely between Ilya’s legs with a cup of tea in his hands, his glasses slightly tilted on his face while his body leaned excitedly toward the TV, eyes trained on the Chinese Grand Prix.
@IlyaRozy81 posted: @HollanderOffical is the only man I’ll wake up at 3 am for. Ferrari, please have your strategy together today - I need my husband happy.
@HollanderOffical commented: Sadly, they did not.
@DaveHollander commented: Sorry, son. This is all my fault.
@MotherYuna replied: It’s true—David would wake up early with him when he was a baby to watch all the races!
@IlyaRozy81 replied: Clearly nothing has changed.
@scuderiaferrari commented: WOW ❤️We love the dedication! Check your DMS!
Now the married couple were the owners of two VIP Paddock passes for the Montreal Grand Prix, invited to attend the Canadian race on the first weekend of June as part of the sport's LGBTQ+ community outreach program. Shane couldn’t have been fucking happier.
Especially since the tickets had been gifted by Ferrari—Shane Hollander's all-time favourite team. This meant that the couple could watch practice, qualifying, and the race from the comfort of Ferrari hospitality. However, the influx of good news didn’t end there, as a certain Monegasque had reached out to the hockey player individually as well.
Ilya supposed he should have been jealous, and in truth, he had been at first. It freaked him out knowing Shane was building an online, back-and-forth DM relationship with Charles Leclerc—the charming and sexy brunette racing driver for Ferrari's Formula One team. But Shane had always been open with Ilya when it came to their messages, so he hadn’t felt the need to stress. Especially when he learned that Charles was practically a duplicate of Shane.
The two dark-haired, French-speaking men shared many of the same interests: favourite books, favourite shows, similar diets, training exercises, music taste, and even workout routines. It was all sorts of creepy, really, but also endearing to Ilya—his husband’s biggest idol could also become a forever friend.
It was also part of the reason why Ilya currently had a gift bag in hand as the two of them wandered deeper into the paddock on that first Saturday in June, giggling softly as he watched Shane’s wide eyes dart in every direction. The Formula One paddock was full of fans, celebrities, drivers, and team personnel actively whizzing about. The two of them had come bearing a gift for the driver—a toy for his little dog. Apparently, it was something the two athletes had bonded over as well: being recent dog parents.
Despite Ilya’s pleas for them to dress more rationally and fashionably—like the two all-star hockey players they really were—Shane had instead opted to wear his full "fan" outfit. He looked like a kid in a candy store, decked out in the Ferrari hockey jersey Ilya had bought him for Christmas. It had the name LECLERC stitched across the back in big, bold letters and, beneath it, the number 16.
Ilya had gotten away with wearing a slicker, nicer, and more discreet Ferrari puffer jacket with dark-wash jeans. A freshly bought pair of expensive Ray-Ban sunglasses was also resting on his face.
"Oh shit! That's Lando Norris!! And is that Oscar Piastri!?" Shane blurted as he practically skipped past the McLaren hospitality, pointing at the crowd of people strolling by.
Ilya had heard the two names before, sure, but all he could see before him was a sea of orange minions. Which confused the Russian, because he thought the dress code that came with his husband’s devotion had always been "wear red."
"I thought we liked Ferrari," Ilya whispered. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.
Were they rooting for the minions?
"We do!" Shane retorted, sounding almost offended despite the crystal-clear smile on his face. "Ferrari is our team, of course, but I love all of Formula One in general. It just feels so great to be here!"
Ilya grinned at his husband as he slung an arm around his shoulders before planting a giant kiss against his cheek. Shane leaned into it without complaint.
Within the security of the paddock, the two famous hockey players received only a few nods and waves of acknowledgement rather than the endless requests for photos they were typically used to.
Looking around the bustling space, both Ilya and Shane couldn't help but recognize a few other big names besides themselves: a fitness influencer Shane followed on TikTok, a model Ilya had worked with during an ad campaign in Boston, and even actors and musicians like Ryan Reynolds and Shawn Mendes.
Somehow, the two of them managed to pass by it all without causing a scene, which was exactly what Shane had wanted—the freedom to enjoy the race in peace.
"Oh, look! Look! Black horse—red—there it is! I can't believe it!"
Ilya’s arm suddenly became empty as his husband bolted for the door. They had finally arrived at the striking red hospitality suite—their home base for the weekend—owned by Ferrari. Ilya was quick to pull out his phone.
“Wait, wait, wait, останавливаться,” (stop) Ilya said, making him pause as he lifted his phone into the air and swiped at the camera. "Let me take a picture of my adorable husband.”
"Ilya—“ Shane started to complain.
“What, you’re cute, sue me!”
Click.
Shane’s childish eyes glistened with elation as he stopped halfway through the open doorway. His back faced the camera, but he turned his head to send a sweet smile Ilya’s way. The Canadian stood proudly with the name and number of his favourite driver on display for all to see. It made Ilya swell with fondness.
The Russian snapped a few more candid pictures as Shane looked away.
He’d want to remember this later.
Not wanting to show any more sappiness amongst the many millionaires and billionaires sending curious looks their way, Ilya cut the sweetness of the moment with another comment.
"If another one of my photos of you goes viral, they'd better give me a free Ferrari."