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1.
It starts as a small question from Arvid.
“So are you guys like…together.”
Kimi stops chewing his food—actually—he stops functioning completely. All thought in his brain. Gone. Absolutely lost and nowhere to be found. It takes him a minute for him to gather himself, to muster up the courage to slowly swallow his food and turn his gaze upwards to where Arvid is staring at him.
“You’re talking about…us.” Kimi gestures between him and Ollie sitting next to him.
“Mate, who else would I be talking about.” Arvid leans back into his chair, unbothered, as if he didn’t just drop the most unhinged question Kimi’s heard in his nineteen years of living.
Ollie blinks—painfully slow. Letting the words register in his brain. He narrows his eyes towards Arvid.
“So just to clarify,” Ollie coughs, clearing his throat. “You are asking about me, being with Kimi.”
“Yes.”
“As in like…” Kimi has to take a moment to gather himself. There is not a singular thought other than the word, ‘what?’ pulsing through his brain. Everything goes quiet around him. “Together. Romantically. In a relationship.”
“As in more than friends.” Ollie has to clarify. “A couple.”
Arvid’s gaze constantly flickers between the two, before he runs a hand through his hair and sighs. Loudly. His first mistake was agreeing to go out with Ollie and Kimi—being the unofficial official third wheel. Never in his life has he felt more like a child in the backseat of his parents’ car.
“Yes,” Arvid draws out his words in quite possibly the most incredulous tone he has ever displayed to the foreseeable public. “A couple. Romantically. The type that shares wired earbuds and a playlist. Which by the way—you both do!”
They both blink. At the same time. Syncronized—it’s scary.
“Maybe you just need a best friend, mate.” Ollie finally says, suddenly fixated on his food.
“I wholeheartedly agree.”
Arvid has never wanted to storm out a restaurant and leave as much as he does now in his entire life.
What the duo in front of him doesn’t understand—is the absolute hard core obliviousness that Arvid has had to endure right in front of him. The things they’ve done—he can’t even make it up. Kimi and Ollie had once kissed in front of a waiter for a 5% Valentines Day discount. Arvid didn’t ask questions—of course he didn’t.
“But—the Valentine’s thing—” He sputters out, one eye twitching.
“Oh, that!” Kimi smiles brightly. “Well, we had to get that discount somehow.”
“Food isn’t cheap.” Ollie somehow agrees—because it’s Kimi. For that reason and that reason only. “Bro goals.”
“Bro goals.” Arvid whispers to himself and buries his face in his hands—in fear that if he were to look up he would be met with the image of Ollie and Kimi high fiving each other.
“Exactly.”
“So you’re saying,” Arvid looks up despite his brain screaming ‘ABORT ABORT ABORT’. “That you two are completely platonic. Perfectly heteronormative. Straight as an arrow. And definitely not a couple.”
Kimi looks up at him, genuinely confused. “...Yes?”
“Listen mate just because we play Mario Kart on Tuesdays—”
Ollie is painfully cut off by Arvid trying his best not to lose his mind. “Oh yeah because Mario Kart on Tuesdays is on the top of our concerns. Glad to see that we’re on the same page.”
“What’s wrong with Mario Kart on Tuesdays—”
“Kimi, I have absolutely no idea.”
The two look at Arvid like he’s personally offended them. As if he’s burned their apartment down and ran over their dog. There is some genuine resentment that is starting to build up in Kimi’s eyes and it’s making Arvid start to think that he’s slightly less than a third wheel. He is simply the camera man in cheesy romance films that always end up right.
“...You guys are mad at me over Mario Kart?” Arvid pieces two and two together.
“Yes!” They both say in unison. Again—scary. Completely horrific.
“It is one of the most engaging—”
“—Competitive”
“—and mind blowing games that you will ever play!” Kimi gestures around frantically—and Arvid gapes because there are clearly much bigger fish to fry.
“Can we get back on track?” He is seconds away from completely pulling his hair out. “We’re ignoring the fact that Ollie will turn down date invites and his only excuse is that he has Kimi. Yet you guys are so adamant on not having a relationship.”
“To be fair I have never actually wanted to go on dates with any of those girls.”
“I am a lifesaver, Arvid. You have to admit that.” Kimi leans back—proudly. It makes him want to scream.
“You bought Ollie a promise ring.” Arvid gestures to the silver plated ring that wraps around an Opal—because apparently diamonds have ‘never been his thing’. “You told me that you would marry him for tax benefits and bragging rights.”
“The economy is highly volatile nowadays.” Kimi just shrugs. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world to vow to marry your best friend.
“That’s why I love Kimi.” Ollie smiles, innocently, oblivious, it makes Arvid want to die. “He’s very smart, you know.”
“Platonically.” He adds, as if that would make the argument more convincing.
Arvid just slumps down further into his seat and the two boys in front of him look down in disappointment. They will never let him live this down. Kimi will call at 3 AM on a random Wednesday with Ollie laughing so hard in the background that he’s doubled over and remind him of this. It will not be graceful—and it might be Arvid’s sign to retire early and live a nice, long life in Monaco away from specifically these two people.
“Mate, are you alright?” Ollie looms over him, his shadow knocking him back into consciousness.
“I think we’ve lost him.” Kimi says in a sad voice, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
“I hate you both.” He sits back up and lets his forehead hit the table. “I hope you guys get chased by a deer on your way home.”
That night, as the three of them walked out of that restaurant, Ollie took Kimi’s hand into his. It was cold, and windy, and as Arvid was shivering half-frozen over—Kimi was parading around with a jacket draped around his shoulders.
Arvid has never third-wheeled so hard in his life.
***
2.
“Anyways—sorry that I’m whispering. Ollie’s asleep next to me and I don’t wanna wake him.”
The line goes silent. Completely—utterly—terrifyingly silent. There are no words from George on the other end of the phone.
Alex’s eyes go just as wide as George’s. His phone lay right next to him, face down—because apparently Kimi complaining about how hard it was to find a relationship was entertaining enough to him.
“Ollie. As in Oliver Bearman.” George takes a deep breath in between his words, exhaling and setting the phone down, putting it on speaker.
For the past hour, George has been listening to Kimi complain. And for the past hour, the conversation has somehow, someway, always ended up back to Ollie. It became a game between him and Alex. ‘How many times can Kimi bring up his complicated relationship with his totally platonic best friend before we lose count?’ (The only problem was that they had lost count thirty minutes ago.)
“Yes, Ollie Bearman. My best friend.” Kimi says all happy-go-lucky.
“And he is in your bed,” George has to use all his might to suppress both a sigh and a laugh. “Right now.”
“Well, technically I’m in his bed.” Kimi’s voice says through the speaker.
“Right…” He looks up at the clock and decides that if he’s going to stay up this long wasting his time on something like this, so be it. “Kimi, just to clarify. Ollie is your best friend, right? Not a complicated on and off relationship, or some secret casual third thing I haven’t been informed about.”
Kimi laughs in a quiet, hushed voice. “Arvid asked us the same thing when we got dinner with him.”
By the time he looks back over to his side, Alex is there with a bowl of popcorn. He looks at Alex like he’s a savior on Earth, and takes a handfull.
“Kimi Antonelli I may only say this once and it is very important advice for your lifetime,” Alex is five seconds away from losing it as he hears George talk some sense into the younger boy. “But that does not make it any better.”
“...The bed is very comfortable, George.” He responds in a tone far too cheery for 2 in the morning.
Alex has one hand on his mouth, falling off the bed and laughing. George prays that Kimi hadn’t heard it.
“Kimi—”
“Although it is quite small,” George can hear Kimi slowly shift around on the mattress. “I don’t mind, though. Other than the fact that I’m halfway on top—”
“Okay, I think that’s enough information on Ollie for today.” He runs a hand through his face, immediately grabbing more popcorn to cope with the complications of this stupidly unserious event.
“...Are you eating popcorn?”
He blinks once. Then twice. George stops mid chew, and slowly raised the volume on his phone.
“How did you know?”
The silence is so loud that Alwx has stopped laughing and is instead sprawled out on his side of the bed.
“...It’s Ollie’s favorite.”
George has to press the mute button so that he can display the most exasperated sigh of all time. He almost wishes that he didn’t—because Kimi is back to rambling about him. He narrows his eyes towards the phone, contemplating if losing his precious 8 hours of sleep is worth it.
Alex finally decides to speak up after an hour of watching George suffer. “Kimi have you ever thought that maybe—”
“Alex?”
He blinks and shoots a glance at George who’s running on three cups of coffee. “Yes, Alex. Anyways—”
“Wait—Alex?” Ollie’s voice cuts him off on the other end of the line, cracked and groggy with sleep.
George sits upright so fast he may have broken something. The two turn to look at each other, popcorn completely abandoned.
“Oh hey, Ollie.” Alex greets. “Anyways—”
“I win!” Kimi shouts and George scrambles to turn the volume down on his phone. “Pay up—”
“Well technically I win because—” Ollie pauses. “George, Alex, what is the exact setting of the area you’re sitting in right now?”
“...On the bed. What does that even have to do with—”
“I predicted the exact setting, I won the bet!”
“But I predicted the exact date.” Kimi retorts. “Pay up.”
“It’s five bucks Kimi, get over it—”
A loud thud cuts them off.
Suddenly, Ollie and Kimi’s voices are very far away from the phone.
George and Alex look at each other with the most utterly confused expressions a human could physically make.
“Kimi did you just tackle me—” Ollie’s voice is distant. Too far away for his own good. Possibly across the room.
George sighs and leans back, slumping down the couch and burying his head in his hands. Alex just pats him on the back with far too much energy at this time of night.
“Ow!” Kimi screams. “Did you just—”
“Sorry! I’m sorry.” Ollie yells an octave higher. “Do you want me to like—kiss you as an apology?”
Alex’s eyebrows shoot up to lengths that he didn’t know he was capable of. George scrambles once more and turns the volume up impossibly high.
“No, save that for the five percent Valentine’s discount at the Italian place.” He says, voice coming closer to the phone.
“Uh—guys?”
“Yes?” They say at the same time. Perfect unison. As if their voices were one.
“I don’t like when they do that,” George leans over and whispers. “It’s scary.”
“So,” Alex runs a hand through his hair. “What exactly did you guys bet on for Kimi to be tackling you over five bucks?”
The line goes silent for a second.
George thinks they’re finally in the clear.
“We made a bet,” Ollie says with the uttermost amount of hesitance in his voice. “On when you would be next to George the next time Kimi called you.”
Alex lets out a sigh. A genuine, long, and gloomy sigh. Head still in his hands, he passes the phone to George.
“Kimi, what time is it?” Ollie asks in between the moment of silence George is having with Alex.
“It’s—uh…” He pauses. “...Three AM.”
“Shoot—alright we gotta get some sleep. Have a good night, George!”
Kimi hangs up and the line goes silent.
George looks at Alex.
They stare at the phone.
“What do you mean they share a bed?” He says to nobody in particular. “And they’re not in any relationship whatsoever?”
“It completely defies all logic.” Alex agrees. “Blasphemous.”
***
3.
“Oscar,” Ollie stands in the doorway, unable to move, barely able to speak.
“Yeah?” He doesn’t look up from his phone.
It’s not until there’s a minute of silence does Oscar look up from his phone and narrow his eyes at Ollie, just standing there. He puts the phone down and looks Ollie directly in the eyes.
“Ollie?” He sits up. “You alright mate?”
“Yeah…yeah—um. I’m fine.” He pulls on the seams of his—no—Kimi’s jacket. “Can I tell you something really quickly?”
“Yeah man, what's up?” Oscar narrows his eyes at him. “You didn’t kill someone, did you?”
“No, no.” He just shakes his head and laughs silently. “That would be bad for my PR. Not like this is any better…”
For a moment, Ollie does this weird thing where he gets the first sound of the word he wants to say before closing his mouth and opening it again. The kid looks like he’s on the verge of tears, for no particular reason whatsoever. There’s a particular silence that they stay in—one that’s not awkward nor rushing but still urgent. One that’s waiting.
Oscar waits anyway because he knows what it feels like to force out a secret. To rush something you wanted to take your time with. He knows what it feels like to suddenly be in the spotlight and have all the pressure on you.
“I…may not be as straight as I thought.” Ollie shifts his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding Oscar’s gaze. “I think I’m gay.”
“You didn’t know?” The words come out before he can stop himself. Shoot.
Ollie’s head snaps up—and suddenly he’s completely still. He’s not rolling his foot, or playing with the seams of his sleeves, or turning his gaze away. His eyes are wide, and he’s staring directly at Oscar.
“What?”
“Y’know—you and Kimi.” He says slowly. “You guys are like…together.”
It is at this point that Oscar realizes that he’s made the biggest mistake of his life—confronting an oblivious person. What’s worse than doing that? Doing it by accident. Currently, Oscar Piastri is somehow doing both.
“Me and Kimi aren’t dating.” He shrugs, unbothered. It’s outragous—absolutely bamboozling.
Right. Very convincing. Ollie must think he’s an idiot.
Oscar looks at him—then narrows his eyes at the Mercedes branded hoodie—before finally looking back at Ollie.
“Mate,” Oscar laughs in an almost scoffing tone. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean that I’m not dating him.” The tension releases from Ollie. “I just told you like—the biggest secret of my life—and you…knew before me?”
“...That you’re dating Kimi?”
“No! That I’m gay you idiot!”
Oh. Oscar had forgotten about that part.
“I mean, I support you bud.” He shrugs. “But we’ve got more important things to focus on—like the fact that you aren’t dating Kimi.”
“Why does everybody think that?” Ollie quietly whispers to himself.
Oscar just gives him the look. The look of disappointment, amusement, and shock all at once. It’s a look that is usually strictly reserved for Lando and his race engineer. He’s another stupid conversation away from crashing his car into the barrier on the next race. Mclaren will cry and give the car’s spare parts to Lando.
“Yeah,” Oscar says in a sarcastic tone. “I wonder why.”
“I mean just because we’ve kissed—”
“You’ve kissed him?!” He yells far too loud for his own good. “You mean—that you are not dating Andrea Kimi Antonelli—and you’ve kissed him.”
Ollie blushes a deep red and slams his mouth shut. Oscar nearly gives himself a migraine. What he realizes is that this 20 year old British boy is more dense than he thought. Kimi could come up to Ollie right now and kiss him—yet Ollie would still think that it’s a completely casual heterosexual guy bonding thing.
“To be fair you’ve kissed Lando—”
“Lando is my boyfriend, that’s different.”
“I don’t understand why everyone is so weird about us kissing.” Ollie cowers slightly.
“And you wonder why people think you guys are dating.” Oscar sighs and stares at the ceiling.
“We’re just friends.” He shakes his head slowly. “Kimi’s straighter than an arrow, mate.”
“Yeah,” Oscar scoffs. “A bent arrow.”
“I’m serious!”
“Ollie you two have a more romantic and healthier relationship than Nico and Lewis—but you are not dating whatsoever.” Oscar stares at him. “It’s not even queerplatonic—or simply not putting a label on it. You genuinely believe that you guys are just casual best friends. Good mates. Bros.”
“Maybe you just need friends, Oscar.” Ollie looks at him, completely oblivious, not getting the message at all. The same man who won P4 in a Haas can’t comprehend that maybe there’s something slightly more between him and his best friend.
Great. Just great.
“Ollie,” He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to not go clinically mental. “Name one thing that couples do.”
“Uh—why?”
“Just do it.”
“They…go on dates I guess?”
“And what did you and Kimi do specifically on February 14th of last year?” Oscar watches Ollie think. Genuinely think. As if the idea of taking your best friend out doesn’t sit at the top of your brain every second of your life.
“We…got dinner? Like friends do?” He looks at Oscar with a puzzled expression.
Maybe Ollie is more clueless than he thought.
“No, Ollie.” He shakes his head. “You guys went on a date.”
Ollie shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t even like Kimi that way. That’s like—the one requirement to being a couple, isn’t it? Plus…it was a five percent discount on that day—okay?”
Oscar comes to a conclusion that if Ollie is attempting to hide his relationship, he’s very bad at doing so. And if he genuinely isn’t in a relationship—he should let Kimi know because clearly he doesn’t know either. Mr. “I kissed my best friend a few more times than just once and I’m going through a crisis” doesn’t know where he stands between platonic and romantic.
“Ollie you sweet summer child.” Oscar laughs at the irony.
“I mean just because he vowed to marry me—”
“He did what?”
***
4.
They’re at some obscure club that Gabi somehow managed to track down. And it’s great. The alcohol is great, the dancefloor that probably hasn’t been cleaned in years is great, the guy with a beer crying in the corner of the bar looks pretty awesome. It’s great.
Kimi’s on his second drink—paid by Ollie, of course. He feels warm—too warm. Maybe it’s the lack of ventilation, or the dozens of people crowding into a small enclosed space, or maybe it’s the red flashing lights having some sort of Placebo effect on him. Maybe it’s Ollie standing across the bar, looking ridiculously pretty.
Huh. Pretty. The alcohol must be getting to him.
There’s a girl that walks up to him. Slightly shorter, blonde, blue eyes, not muscular in the slightest. She’s not Kimi’s type. She doesn’t have dark brown curly hair that glows under the sunlight and styles itself without trying. In fact—her hair is unmistakably pin straight. She’s not a whole head taller like Kimi prefers, nor does she have a drawling British accent.
She isn’t Ollie. Which is weird, because Kimi doesn’t like Ollie that way in the slightest. Even if he fits his type.
“Hi,” She smiles softly, and props her head up with one hand, letting her elbow carry the rest of the weight.
Kimi just blinks, not saying anything. He takes another sip of his drink. It’s slightly bitter, somewhat sweet, and almost burns down his throat. The alcohol smell is pungent—but his brain decided to block it out an hour ago.
“Hello,” Kimi finally says in his far too boring and polite voice in hopes of making her lose interest.
“Can I offer you a drink?”
He looks at her, and blinks. Slowly. Before letting out a deep sigh and taking another sip. Kimi’s a lightweight—a drink or two and he’s gone. Completely drunk.
“No.”
“Can I get your number, then?” She bats her eyelashes and turns the corner of her lips upwards.
Kimi looks across the club—desperate to find Ollie. He sees him talking to Gabi. Their eyes lock. Suddenly there’s a look of understanding between them both that leaves the other boy looking slightly confused. Ollie says something to Gabi that Kimi can’t quite read from this far away and Gabi just nods.
In seconds, Ollie is making his way across the room in strides. Kimi doesn’t fully register what’s happening around him because his eyes are locked on his so-called best friend—who doesn’t take his eyes off him either. The girl has her eyes locked on Kimi as well, still desperate for that number.
The music is far too loud—Kimi’s eardrums are probably gonna be shot by the end of this. He looks down at his drink and sees the liquid vibrate as the music grows louder. He’s in a drunken haze of confusion and warmth that gets him all sentimental towards life.
Suddenly, a warm hand is placed on his shoulder and a familiar mop of brown hair stands by him. Kimi leans into it on instinct.
“Hey,” Ollie smiles at him—and suddenly he doesn’t feel so uncomfortable anymore.
Kimi stands up almost immediately, letting Ollie wrap one arm around his shoulders—leaning his weight against him.
“Is this your friend?” She gestures towards Ollie, raising an eyebrow.
Ollie simply sticks his hand out for a handshake, “Nice to meet you—I’m Ollie—”
“My name’s—”
“—Kimi’s boyfriend.” He finishes his sentence, completely interrupting her.
For a moment, Kimi stops breathing. He doesn’t flinch—doesn’t give Ollie a weird look. He just stands there, nodding and smiling like he’s always known. The girl blinks twice in a row, fast pace, in one smooth motion.
Kimi’s just as shocked as the girl is. He doesn’t show it nearly as much, though.
“Oh,” She stares, her eyes going wide. “Oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t know that you were—”
“You’re good.” Ollie cuts her off and basically drags Kimi to the other side of the club where Gabi is standing there with a suspiciously blue drink in his hand.
“Dude.”
Kimi almost can’t hear Gabi over the music that’s blasting and bouncing off the walls. The floor practically shakes with the amount of people moving around. The atmosphere in that specific corner they’re in smells like alcohol, smoke, and…car oil for whatever reason. (But that might just be him.)
“Yeah?” Ollie pulls out that smile he reserves for media days and Ayao.
“Did you just…” Gabi stares blankly at the two of them. “Completely scare that girl away from Kimi?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” He shrugs.
“Why?”
Just as Ollie’s about to answer Gabi points his eyes down at his hands—which are stabilizing Kimi by the waist. He stares at Kimi, who’s leaned into Ollie’s side.
“Because I—”
“You were jealous, weren’t you?” Gabi raises an eyebrow.
It takes Kimi aback so much to the point where he almost knocks himself over. Ollie has to tighten his grip on him so he doesn’t fall face flat on the dirty ground. When he looks up, Ollie’s eyes are as wide as his. He has his mouth slightly parted—and a red blush rises to his cheeks.
“No,” He frantically tries to shake his head. “Kimi looked uncomfortable.”
He looks at Ollie and frowns ever so slightly before pulling his face up back to normal. “You looked at him for a second before you said, ‘hold on Gabi, one moment.’ and stormed off.”
“Mate—”
“You nearly knocked a couple over because of how fast you were walking.” He deadpans.
“To be fair,” Kimi pipes up, voice far too relaxed. “I did not like her.”
“See! Even Kimi can back me up on this.” Ollie does a small smirk.
“That’s because he’s your boyfriend.”
“He is not my boyfriend!” They both say at the same time—screaming at Gabi.
“Uh-huh. Sure.” Gabi says in a not-so convincing tone. “What’s next—Ollie doesn’t drive for Haas?”
“Ollie is not my boyfriend, he was not jealous, and he still drives for haas thank you very much.” Kimi lists his words off his hands.
Gabi doesn’t even say anything before he turns around and leaves to get another drink.
***
5.
Kimi had done it.
He was a world champion.
In his second season of Formula One, freshly out of the rookie status, he was a world champion driving a champion winning car. He would step on that podium, get drunk on champagne at an age that wasn’t legal in some countries, and he would smile so hard his teeth hurt.
But for now—that didn’t matter. Because Ollie had driven his tractor 58 laps through Abu Dhabi and somehow made it to P2. Not P3, not P4, P2. Second place. The same place that Ollie had been dreaming to have last year.
Nothing had mattered after hearing Bono’s crackling voice over the radio congratulating him on the championship and telling him the standings. He heard Ollie’s name on the radio and everything around him went quiet. There was no focus on stopping the car. Kimi is 90% sure that his body did it on autopilot because his brain was filled with images of Ollie.
There was a sea of people standing below the podium. The Italian anthem played—a song that the crowd had grown long tired of after a while. (Except for Ferrari, they always cheered.)
Kimi beamed with a smile. A smile that had been so rarely seen by his team—yet a smile that Ollie saw every day. The adrenaline had worn off, only slightly, but enough to keep him steady.
He looked to the side—enough to catch a glimpse of Ollie.
Ollie looks back, and for a moment Kimi forgets how to breathe. He’s displaying this wide grin that seems only fitted for a man who drove the hell out of a Haas to P2.
As the anthem comes to an end—Ollie can’t help but notice that glint in Kimi’s eyes. The same look that he knows far too well. It’s the kind of look that they use to communicate with each other across the room. The look that George makes fun of them for.
Ollie raises an eyebrow in question. For a split second the cheering below him goes silent. Completely still. Kimi just smirks. The two communicate in this ‘language’ to the point where George stares at his champagne bottle, absolutely ready to down it.
He recognizes what Kimi is telling him instantly. In a singular, fast motion, Kimi sticks his arm out to him and Ollie grabs his forearm. The younger boy pulls him up to the top step of the podium—and the crowd cheers. They don’t let go of each other’s arms, not yet.
“I’m proud of you.” Kimi says in barely a whisper, voice only audible to Ollie.
Ollie’s grin only widens. They interlock their hands and Kimi squeezes his palm three times.
It’s only then do they realize that the media will eat them alive. Their PR reps will throw them in a closet and scold them for being so careless on live TV. Sky Sports will have a new obsession that does not involve Lewis and Nico. Toto will revoke his championship.
There’s one last glance between the two of them before Kimi nods—a careful plan formulated within seconds.
Slowly, they unlock their fingers and pick up the champagne bottles. They spray George first—because—obviously they do. And then they turn to each other—smiling and grinning like they were kids again.
The champagne sticks to Kimi’s curls, dampening them and sticking to his skin. It tastes like white wine with floral notes. The thing is, Kimi hates white wine. It tastes terrible. But he’s too on top of the world to care.
It gets to a point where they discard the champagne completely—while George absolutely downs his bottle. And suddenly Kimi is surging forward, wrapping his arms around Ollie and smiling like he’s dreaming.
For a moment he pulls back—and they stare at each other.
Ollie doesn’t even realize that Kimi is kissing him until he tastes the bitter notes of champagne on his lips—followed by the warmth radiating off of Kimi. He’s cupping the back of Kimi’s neck to steady him—while Kimi rests his hands on his cheeks.
Half the crowd gasps—the other half cheers incredibly louder. George takes one look at their direction and finishes the rest of his champagne.
His hand moves from his neck to his hair, and he doesn’t let go. When they pull back—all Kimi can offer is a small grin.
Toto is going to have a stroke. Ayao is going to make sure the mechanics sabotage Ollie’s car so that he doesn’t kiss anybody on the podium next season. George will probably never look at him the same without thinking of this moment.
Kimi is mostly out of breath. He doesn’t know whether it’s from racing a car or kissing Ollie. He makes the bold decision of looking back into the crowd, one hand still resting on Ollie’s cheek, the other on his waist.
There’s a plethora of Mercedes team members with their mouths wide open, jaw on the floor. Some of the Haas members look like they’re about to cry. But amongst the chaos—Kimi’s eyes lock with Lewis’ who gives him a wide smile and a thumbs up. The man next to him gives Kimi a small wave. The man in question is none other than Nico Rosberg—who has a hand around Lewis’ waist.
Ollie leans in and Kimi almost thinks that he’s about to kiss him again. But he simply whispers in Kimi’s ear, “I love you.”
And if the winning—or the champagne—or Ollie in general doesn’t have him redder than a Ferrari, this definitely does.
Kimi’s brain short circuits. The corner of his mouth stays open—like he’s about to say something. His face goes red, so much to the point where he can’t blame it on his natural blush. He stares at Ollie with such shock all he can do is offer Kimi a small laugh.
The first thing that Ollie thinks is, ‘Oh god, I’ve gone and killed him.’ There’s an apology that’s already been carefully constructed in his head, ready for him to say until—
“I…love you too.” Kimi says in a small, surprised voice.
He doesn’t know why he was so shocked when Ollie said it. Maybe it was the adrenaline that made his heart start racing. Or maybe it was the heat outside that caused him to be so red. It could also be the fact that he’s nervous and thousands of people in the crowd are either ready to congratulate him or hate crime him. Maybe it’s because he’s in love with him—
Wait.
He’s in love with Ollie?
Oh god, he’s in love with Ollie Bearman.
***
+1
“Ollie.” Kimi walks into their room and jumps onto the bed, lying there, limp.
“Yes?” Ollie doesn’t move from the armchair where he’s slumped over sideways in quite possibly the most unnatural position.
“I’m having a crisis.”
He blinks. This could mean anything.
“...Okay.”
“I’m in love with you.” Kimi blurts out before he can stop himself.
“Oh.” Ollie goes red—blushing a shade redder than a Ferrari. “Is that it?”
“No! No.” He turns to look at him. “I was just wondering…what are we?”
The air in the room goes still—it’s genuinely a good question. So why can’t either of them answer?
Ollie thinks back to their last interactions. The kissing. The vows. Sharing beds. Sharing clothes. How people always thought that they were dating. When they would go out for dinner together during big events when everybody else would be out with their girlfriend.
Has it ever been casual? Have they ever been ‘just friends’?
“I…” Ollie stops himself before looking at Kimi with that same confused look. “I don’t know.”
The silence that fills the room is indescribable. It’s the same silence that Kimi sat through sitting in Toto’s office after pulling that stunt during the aftermath of his first championship win. But it’s also the same silence that he’s sat through with Ollie as they sat barely an inch away from each other during a particularly bad race for the both of them.
“Well I was just asking because—” Kimi pulls a thread from his sleeve. “Everybody seems to think we’re dating.”
“You know, Kimi. We aren’t too far off, are we?”
Kimi perks up, “Go on…”
“I mean—what do couples do? They kiss each other, and hold hands, and share beds, and…vow to marry each other.” Ollie gestures towards them. “We’ve done all of these things.”
Kimi thinks back to all the times he and Ollie would swear that they were ‘just friends’ while doing the most romantic things together. He remembers buying flowers for Ollie and George catching him bringing it to the hotel where Haas stays. His response? A stammered out excuse about friendship and loyalty. George had stared at him like he was stupid.
“I’ve never…” He whispers. “I’ve always thought of us as good friends.”
“Yeah. Good friends. Who kiss each other a little more than just occasionally.”
“Exactly.” Kimi deadpans.
Kimi stares at the ceiling and thinks of all the times they’ve been oblivious to people calling them out. He thinks about his PR representative yelling at him and him just shrugging while explaining that good friends do in fact kiss each other. He remembers Alex telling him that he looks at Ollie like he does with George—and Kimi had just sat there confused. Maybe it’s always been this way since he started karting. Maybe they’ve just been too nervous to go through the confession stage so they skipped to the part where they act all domestic with each other.
It makes sense, when he thinks about it. Because he and Ollie have always been about being casual. Casual kisses. Casual love notes. Casual flowers. They’ve been so accustomed to casual that they never had the time to sit and think about the fact that maybe they’re more than friends.
God, they’re dumber than stupid, aren’t they?
“Ollie, I’m going to tell you something and I need you to promise not to freak out.”
“Okay…” Ollie looks at him skeptically.
“I fear that…we have been in a relationship. For the past two years. Without knowing.” Kimi looks straight at him—not attempting to cover up the blush. “And I think that we’re the last people to know.”
Ollie just stares at him before saying, “Oh god.”
“I mean…think about it.” Kimi looks over at Ollie who’s staring at virtually nothing with wide eyes. “We haven’t dated a single person in a couple years.”
“Because we were busy dating each other.” He groaned, putting one hand up to cover his eyes.
“Do you remember that time in Monaco? When we went to that restaurant and the waiter kept referring to me as your boyfriend?” He sits up, remembering the sudden event. “You didn’t even stop her.”
“It felt right.” Ollie whispered and sunk further into his seat.
“You kiss me so much that sometimes I don’t even notice!”
“Yeah—that may not have been as platonic as I thought.” Ollie smiled sheepishly.
“...What else have we been doing as ‘just friends’?”
Ollie thinks back to the time he was staying at Kimi’s house. They ended up sleeping in the same bed for ‘space purposes’. That next morning, Kimi’s mother barged into his room ranting about how they were gonna be late for church before finally taking a look at the bed.
“Do I have to talk about it?” He flushes bright red.
“Yes! How else am I supposed to get out of our crisis!” Kimi complains. “It’s your crisis just as much as it is mine!”
“Okay—okay. Do you remember that one Sunday when your mom came into the room and—”
“Nevermind. I don’t want to remember that.” He cuts him off laughing at the memory.
There was a long pause of silence but they were both thinking virtually the same things. They thought about how they cared about each other just a little bit too much—much more than they cared about others. They thought about how their siblings would catch them smiling at the walls and would ask if it was Ollie or Kimi.
“So,” Ollie said in a much quieter voice. “What are we?”
Kimi paused for a moment, “Well everybody thinks we’re in a relationship. And…I guess it’s not as ridiculous as I thought.”
“So, not ‘just friends’?”
“Obviously.”
“George might have a stroke if I tell him we just realized.” He laughed.
“Oscar might execute me.”
The laughter died down and they looked at each other. How the light hit their eyes. How the sun defined their features. They were smitten, weren’t they? And they didn’t even realize.
“The conclusion is…?” He prompted him.
“Boyfriends. We’re boyfriends and have been for the past two years without realizing.” Ollie nodded.
Kimi smiled, “I’m happy with that.”
That night, Arvid screamed at them through the phone. George hung up as soon as they told him. Oscar just groaned and congratulated them. Gabi nearly had an aneurysm telling them how stupid they were.
Ollie just kissed Kimi once more