scuderiaspringsteen - Tumblr blog

scuderiaspringsteen · 1 hour ago

Text

the pros of being alone at the library for 8 hours every sunday is that i can use that time to churn out same age au rosquez porn set circa 1999/2000. the cons well if i dont do this i will go insane. this one is about 2.7k, and i might throw it on ao3 eventually. enjoy!

Your turn to share a secret.

Vale smiles when he says it, the phrase sweet on his tongue, and Marc thinks Why not? as he opens his mouth into the clean, dark air.

“I've never had sex.”

They're alone out here, camped out on one of the grassy general admissions areas with only themselves for company. Everyone else has already gone to sleep, but Vale, a cheerful insomniac, had tapped on his window and waved a bottle of liquor at him from outside the caravan. No Uccio in sight.

Marc had left Álex curled in the bed next to him.

“You—?” Vale breaks off into a laugh. He thinks Marc is joking, so Marc smiles at him, waiting.

Vale’s smile freezes, dies just a little. He regards Marc. “No. No one at all? You’ve never?”

A series of gestures spells out the rest, until Marc knocks his shoulder into Vale’s.

“When would I have the time?”

“Marc.” He says like Marc is crazy, “You make the time,”

Maybe you can, Marc thinks. Vale with his big house and his racer of a father and his civil engineer mother. Vale whose dad can afford to buy him a scooter, brand new, in addition to the repairs on his motorcycle. He doesn’t think Valentino Rossi has ever had to go without dinner so his parents could buy him racing boots, he thinks they probably just appeared when he needed them.

Not so much, for Marc. It’s kept him hungry for lots of things.

Vale has never had to think about how much losing would cost the people around him.

It’s kept him— happy. Which Marc likes.

He shrugs. Then fists a handful of the cool grass next to him. Everything looks blue in the moonlight— a cyanotype of the world. The grass, the sky, the skin over his knuckles. The ruff of Vale’s hair, which isn’t even dyed blue right now— it’s platinum blonde, glowing like the moon in the corner of Marc’s vision.

“I mean. Do you have anyone you want to, with?” Busts out of Valentino. Like Marc might be someone who just doesn’t feel that sort of thing.

“Is that a question?”

Vale takes a swig of the liquor bottle— some sickly sweet Italian brand, probably swiped from his dad. Marc has learned not to ask. The question is only ever avoided when he does.

“Just— do you think anyone might be good? You do want to, right?”

Marc has to think of someone. It takes a second. Vale’s leg jumps up and down next to him.

“Eh, a few in Cervera? They know my cousins, and they're—” He snags, unsure. They were nice to him at the last festival that he was home for, at least. “Pretty.”

He reaches over Vale to nab the bottle curled loosely in his fist, feels how hot the body next to him is in the night air. He takes a big swig. The burn of it grounds him. The alcohol untethers him. Caught between two points.

Vale steals the liquor back, and Marc glances over. There’s a look on his face.

Hungry, Marc would call him, if he didn’t know better.

“But there aren’t many girls in the paddock, and with the travel and my family.” He trails off, see-sawing his head back and forth. Vale’s met his family. “It’s hard to get enough space.” He settles on, as if he isn't usually the one following Álex around, most off days. As if he isn’t alone with Vale, whenever Vale asks.

“Hm.” A noise of contemplation.

“What?”

Vale perks up. Marc remembers watching him do the same thing a couple of years ago, reacting to the wave of cameras pointing his way after a race— how the hair around his head would spring with him, an alive thing, and everyone would stop to look.

There’s no cameras here to perform for, just Marc.

“I could help you.”

“What?” Marc repeats.

As an answer, Vale leans over to muscle him into a smacking kiss on the cheek, hands coiled tight on Marc's upper arms. The lips stay there, hot, as Marc squirms, before Vale releases him and lets Marc flop away back onto the grass, face red.

Marc blinks, laughs and pushes at him for the second time that night. He doesn’t wipe his cheek. The spit dries there.

“There! Now you have more experience— your girls at home will not be disappointed.” Vale croons.

“Because of one kiss? That’s your fix?” Marc sputters.

“Well, Mr. Marquez, as you know, a kiss is the first step,” Vale makes his voice nasally, pushing a pair of nonexistent glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Marc laughs again. Sighs.

“Hm. I haven’t done that either,” He reaches— then takes another swig, leaning back on his elbows, legs stretching out ahead of him. He's probably talking too much, phantom embarrassment licking at his stomach, but he wants to see what Vale does.

He likes that he’s shocked him, a little.

Vale gapes.

“No, now you are lying to me.”

“Nope.”

“Marquez—“ Vale sounds at a loss for words. And something else. Marc ducks his head. “How?”

“Eh. Busy. I know you are less familiar, but winning takes up a lot of time,” It’s a risk— Vale doesn’t actually think trash talk is that friendly sometimes, especially when people insinuate he doesn’t try as hard as Marc, doesn’t go to the gym. He can take it personally, depending on his mood, and sometimes Marc doesn’t realize it until it's been two weeks since they last talked and Uccio is hovering around him like a bodyguard.

But Vale, plied with alcohol, just laughs. Marc lets out a breath.

“You have one more win than me this season,” He holds up the one on his finger, and Marc grins. It was a nifty pass. “And I still manage to get laid.”

“Maybe if you weren’t getting laid, you would have one more win than me.”

A rough snort from Vale, leaning into it with one of his tiny, close-mouthed smiles.

“Eh, sorry. I do not want your virgin— super powers.”

“Heh, It’s okay, neither do I.”

Vale shoots him a look. Marc leans all the way back, looks at the stars in the sky. He should probably feel more shame, instead he feels— itchy. The grass prickling at his neck, maybe. They didn’t think to bring a blanket.

Vale stays up, turning to look out at the circuit, its dark blue rivers of asphalt curving into the earth, white paint glowing at the edges. They have to qualify there tomorrow. Marc can’t wait.

He wonders how Vale feels as he starts to count the bony knobs of his spine, curved in a C shape away from him, towards the track. Wonders— if he put his hands on either side of Vale’s waist, how much space would exist between the tips of his fingers. Wonders how many girls Vale has been with.

He can hear the crickets chirp, nothing like the buzz of engines. He wants, suddenly, to close his eyes and listen to them.

“It’s— they like when you go slow,” Vale says. He’s picking at the edge of one of his converse, body folded up around his knees.

He had a girlfriend last season, Marc remembers. Blonde hair. Nothing like Marc.

He hasn’t seen her for a while. Vale’s probably been busy.

“Slow?”

Vale leans back to lay down next to him. Marc looks only at the sky.

“Sometimes, it depends on where you are, what you are doing. For the first— yes, usually.”

A little punch of breath lands on Marc’s cheek. Vale’s turned over on his side. Knees pointing to Marc, and not the track.

“How do you know?”

“They let you know. Mostly—” Marc turns too. A pause. They’re facing each other, bony shoulders digging into the hillside. Tomorrow, it’ll be covered in fans, watching them slide into corners, rooting for them to muscle each other out of the way. Right now, it’s just them and the milk-night smell of grass. “They look at you, for a while, and smile. You can usually tell.”

Vale’s bottom lip is shiny. Liquor or spit. He’s not smiling.

“Then, well. You pick your moment.” He continues.

“But,” A crease forms between Marc’s eyebrows. “Once you kiss her, what do you do? How will I know how— to do it,” He trails off.

“It is hard to explain without actually—” Vale squints a little, then shakes his head. “You just have to figure it out, sort of. Once you do, it should come naturally. You know, it’s eh, it is instinct.”

Instinct. Marc feels a little bit like he’s been struck very hard across the back of the head. Instinct. He looks at the moon, lying down here on a hill next to him, and he speaks.

“You— I’ve never done it before.”

“Yes?”

“I wouldn't want,” A swallow. Marc twitches. “To embarrass myself.”

“No. No.”

Blue, blue, blue. All Marc can see is blue.

“You said you’d help?”

Vale nods, confused, and Marc takes his advice, chooses his moment. Leans forward and catches the shine of Vale’s bottom lip between his own. Presses with the wet of his tongue and probably forgets his other bit of advice— to go slow.

“Marc, Marc,” Vale tries, muffled against his mouth. He pulls back, just a few inches, his body deadly still. Searches Marc’s face with eyes that are wide and dark.

That was Marc’s first kiss. His chest goes tight.

“Marc.” Vale says again, quiet. Then, “More, like this.”

He leans back in and takes a bit more control, thumb coming up to direct Marc’s jaw to the side. Marc lets himself be kissed, feels the rhythm Vale is setting, the angles he's chasing. Shivers rocket down his spine, a fog of tingling haze taking over his brain. He puts a hand on Vale’s shoulder, pulls him closer, wants him closer, and Vale opens his mouth like a door. Lets him inside.

Everything gets better immediately, slicker and smoother, thrumming through him in time to his pulse. Marc sinks into it, the steady pressure of a clever, willing mouth swooping through his belly. Kisses multiply as he dives in again and again, following Vale’s lead, feeling him get sloppier, rougher. He makes a sound, curling his tongue in and sucking, and Vale comes alive, twisting even closer, moving Marc onto his back and hauling himself up and over him, pressing their hips together.

Vale falls into him and— that noise wasn’t Marc’s. Vale’s hard, against his belly.

He’s always been a fast learner.

“You should probably,” Vale pulls away and pants, sounding out of it. His thumb is still digging into Marc’s face, swiping at the skin there over and over. “Practice other things, too”

Marc nods, fast. There’s a clink of Valentino’s belt. Marc’s still in his pajama bottoms, and they don't take much longer. Then his cock is out, overheated in the cool air, his ass against the grass. When Vale lowers himself back down, skinny arms on either side of Marc’s head, his dick rubs against him, soft, hot skin leaving a line of drool trailing against Marc’s stomach.

He jerks.

“Oh, fuck,” Marc hisses, and it feels like his eyes roll back in his head, hand scrambling over the fabric of Vale’s t-shirt. Nothing he’s ever done has felt like this, like Vale’s hips sliding forwards, dick tucking in beside Marc’s, hot body pressing down from above him.

“Good?” Vale asks, and Marc just stares.

It’s not enough for Vale apparently, because he— he leverages himself up to kneel between Marc’s legs. Then he’s leaning down, and Marc has just enough time to curse before a mouth closes over the head of his cock, clumsy and wet. Something he cant stop, something he doesn't want to stop. A wave cresting, and crashing.

It’s less suction, more kiss, but Marc looks down and sees the image, and it's enough. Valentino— eyelashes fluttering fast, mouth pulling at him three, four, times, like fingernails over his nerves, until he cries out, too loud.

“Wait, I’m going to–” He tries to shove Vale’s shoulder, make this last, but it's over, he’s gone. He shakes his way through it, twists against where Vale’s fingers are holding him still, digging into the meat of his thigh.

Vale spits into the grass to their right.

He breathes hard. “There,” Vale says, keeps saying, coming back up to kiss at Marc’s neck, breathing hotly there, curled over him, hand on his face. Marc can list on one hand the amount of people outside of his family who have put their hands on his face. None of them have felt like this. “You, now you have. You have.”

He can still feel, insistent, the budge of Vale against his thigh. He wants.

“I still— Can I?” He asks and Vale nods, shiny mouthed. Marc fumbles a hand for Vale’s dick.

“Wait.” Vale grabs his hand, throws him a smear of liquid eye contact, and spits directly into Marc’s palm. “There, now,”

It’s hot, in Marc’s hand.

“You can— a little tighter,” Vale directs after a few strokes, mouth open in a wet slash. He wonders— if Vale thinks he’s one of his girls. If he wants to pretend that Marc’s never touched a cock at all, doesn’t know how to bring himself off. Marc plays along.

“Like this?” Marc slips into the role like it's a dress, sparking bright in his stomach. He twists his wrist, watches the way Vale curls further into him with fascination. “Am I doing it right?”

Vale doesn't speak, but he answers. Groans, closing his eyes for a second. He pets at Marc’s hair. Kisses the side of his face. Kisses his mouth. Drives his hips forward into the clutch of Marc’s fist. They’re not going slow now, if they ever were. He blinks and sees what they would look like from the outside in his mind’s eye, the two of them tangled together— Marc’s head black in the dark of the night, Vale’s a hot shock of white blonde. Moving like one person.

Vale breathes in.

He feels come, hot and wet, spurt across his fist.

Marc breathes out.

After– he can smell grass, gasoline, alcohol, and Vale. He takes big gulps of it, trying to fill his lungs.

There’s a noise, over the hill. Could be nothing. But both of them scramble to sit up.

For a long moment, no one moves. And then, when nothing more comes of the noise, they do. Vale first, scrubbing the back of his neck. Marc second, on wobbly knees, wiping his hand on the ground.

“Thanks uh. For— the practice.” Marc says fast, to break the silence. His heart is still racing. He can’t believe— if that counts, he’s no longer a virgin. Just like that.

“...Yeah,” Vale says after a minute. Marc hears a zipper and a belt. He follows suit, tucking himself, soft and wet, back into his pants. He looks at the ground.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Vale asks blearily. Right. Tomorrow.

“I’m gonna head to bed, yeah.” Marc nods. Stands. Vale, he knows, will be up for hours yet. Will probably think this was a dream. Will either pull Marc under his arm in parc fermé tomorrow or pretend that they've never met before. Whichever he decides.

“Okay. Yeah.” When he looks back at him, standing in his converse with his cheerful little liquor bottle dangling loose in his fist, Marc bites his lip hard. Looks from the bottle to his face.

The moon is going to set soon. They have quali tomorrow. They should go.

He starts to walk, Vale trailing on reticently a little bit behind him, grass sticking to their shoes. Marc will look at them tomorrow morning, the green stain on the sole, and think of this. Tomorrow night, he will look at the night sky and think of what came before it. Ten years from now, he will ride around the turn bracketing this hill on an unfamiliar motorcycle with a broken arm, and he will think of all of it, and he will smile.

“Hey, eh. Marc?” Vale shouts, too loud, across the hill as their paths split. Marc doesn't know where he could be going, if not back to the paddock. He doesn't ask.

“Yes?”

“Good luck tomorrow.” Vale calls, before turning away.

Marc doesn't know if he means it.

#woahhh #rosquez #fic #motogp

101 notes · View notes

scuderiaspringsteen · 1 hour ago

Note

ELLA ENCHANTED MARC MARQUEZ WOULD BE SO GOOD AND SO FUCKED UP!!!!!!!

IT WOULD!!!! disclaimer to anybody who has seen the movie i have not and have only read the book so that is what this is based on. also it got SUPER DUPER long so it's under the cut

like marc as a baby in fantasyland won't stop crying is just screaming his head off and one of the fairies attending his birth "blesses" him with perfect obedience and then tells him to stop crying. marc's parents are horrified but there's nothing they can do…they try not to give him orders while he’s growing up but he IS marc marquez and he IS crazy so the curse does come in handy sometimes…they feel really guilty abt that but it’s true…

he ALSO is trying to resist the curse constantly like you KNOW he is. even if the order is something innocuous his mom wants him to do he is trying not to do it for as long as he can. in the book i think ella mostly gets nauseous when she tries to fight it but i would love to lean more into a physical ache aspect. maybe also in this verse he gets diplopia bc he goes too far in trying to resist the curse…it does not get him to stop trying it. of course not. he’s back to testing his resistance like a week after he recovers

vale meanwhile is the king of marc’s country…inherited when he was pretty young but has succeeded due to his extraordinary shrewdness…marc’s family are nobles but never at court bc of the curse so marc can only idealize him from a distance which he DOES. maybe they’ve met once or twice 2008 style but that’s it

i think the main conflict for marc in this verse is that he really wants to serve as a soldier or guard and fight for his kingdom (and his king!!!) but his parents think his curse makes it impossible. how can you be a soldier if your enemy can just tell you to back off and you will? how can you be a guard if you can be forced to betray the person you’re guarding by anyone at any time?

eventually he does convince them to let him attend a training school in the capital because ALEX is now old enough to go. their codependence is magnified here - it’s always safer for marc and alex to do things together because if anyone ever orders marc to do something he doesn’t want to do, alex who knows about the curse can reverse the order. so marc persuades his parents that this system works well enough for them to go off and train to be soldiers together

i think they’ve probably been very isolated within their estate and their hometown before this bc of how wary marc’s family is about him being harmed by the curse. marc hasn’t actually been AROUND any people who carelessly give him orders for a while and he isn’t prepared for just how often it actually happens at the training school. he also can’t really try and resist the orders bc it would become obvious it pained him to do that and then people would figure him out. he hates it and he's so much better than everyone else at swordfighting because he's been practicing incessantly for his whole life to distract from the curse instead of living a normal life and the only good thing is that sometimes he sees king valentino ride by but then the king leaves on campaign to remote regions of the kingdom and he doesn't even have THAT...

so pretty soon he decides FUCK THIS i'm leaving and i'm going to try to find a way to break the curse. pleads with alex constantly for days until alex is like...okay fine, i'll cover for you. then flees in the middle of night w some stolen food and his sword. as in the book eventually ends up running into a group of OGRES and is trapped when they order him not to leave. ends up figuring out a way to take them down and is about to execute his plan when THE KING and his elite squad of guards show up!!! vale immediately intrigued by this young reckless captive who obviously hasn't finished formal training but holds his own in a battle...marc admits he ran away from the training school but lies that it was because he wanted real experience rather than boring drills. vale laughs and says he can get real experience with the guards, marc beams, they are VIBING immediately.

so marc journeys around the kingdom with vale for a while. they start fucking pretty much INSTANTLY ofc. vale is even more charismatic up close and he's giving marc lessons in tactics and they make stupid jokes and laugh together... marc's dream has come TRUE his IDOL has noticed him and he can ignore the curse for this. he keeps an eye out for fairies just in case he meets one who will remove it...finds out the fairy who put it on him often punishes people who question her gifts...starts collecting texts they find about curses but all of them just say things like "often the power to break the curse resides in the spirit" which marc takes as a personal insult like are you saying my SPIRIT isn't STRONG ENOUGH???

vale i think has been avoiding getting married for years at this point...saw how miserable his parents' arranged marriage was and doesn't want that but knows he needs to marry a noble for the good of the kingdom...and it's not like he starts out seeing marc as a marriage prospect but they keep passing through these small towns as they try to clear out dangerous creatures and marc is so good at charming the people and he shares vale's concerns about the realm and vale finds himself looking at him and thinking maybe...maybe...

obviously royal advisor uccio is VERY against it. keeps telling vale that marc is sketchy isn't it weird that he got captured by those orcs righttt before we showed up??? isn't he overly agreeable sometimes what if he's faking his similarities with you???

and vale isn't stupid. he's noticed that marc always does what he says, that if he says "shut up" as a joke marc will stop talking, but he thinks marc is just being deferential to vale bc he's the king. he doesn't even LIKE that - he likes when marc is bold and loud and confident and almost unconsciously learns to phrase things so that marc has a choice...marc picks up on this and on the one hand it makes him fall more in love than ever and on the other hand it makes him scared bc if vale can figure it out other people can too, and no one's tried to use the curse against him yet but he knows that's luck and the protection of his family more than anything, and now he doesn't really HAVE his family's protection anymore

but he could have vale's protection. maybe it isn't the end of the world if he figures out the curse...maybe vale will help him and keep him safe...marc is looking at vale as he adapts to wording his advice to marc as questions and not commands, as he proves himself to be wittier and kinder and more human than marc ever imagined, and thinking maybe...maybe...

eventually, of course, they make their way back to the capital, and marc is able to reunite w alex. he's been worried SICK tbh they haven't been able to keep in touch at all, and of course this is what really brings reality home for marc bc alex is now here to be like what are you THINKING??? do you know how dangerous this is for you??? there are so many ways this could go wrong. and marc knows that, and more than that he knows vale is in danger too. if one of his enemies figures marc out they could order him to kill vale and he would have to do it. it just can't work, them together, and marc KNOWS that but he hasn't wanted to believe it.

but now that he's at court he can see the danger all around, and he's trying to act like he did on campaign but he's scared and frustrated and vale is noticing and pulling away himself. i still think it takes an actual incident for marc to leave - a noble figures him out enough to threaten him, and he realizes that if he really loves vale he can't stay here. like ella does to char in the book, he writes vale a terse letter claiming not to really care about him and he and alex flee the capital once more.

vale is heartbroken, and furious, and immediately has uccio in his ear saying, "see??? SEE??? i knew all along he was a snake!!!" so vale believes him. ends up even more jaded and cynical about love than before. but he still can't quite let go of marc, is still interested in hearing stories from people living near marc's estate about his exploits there, the solo missions he starts to undertake bc OFC he can't stay put having had a taste of adventure. and then there's the fact that a lot of vale's nobles still want him to get married.

years pass in a tense equilibrium at court, with marc stuck at his parents' estate where he now feels trapped in a way he never did before. and THEN comes the actual cinderella part (you know, the fairytale this book and this au is technically based on?)

vale decides to pacify his nobles by holding a series of grand masquerade balls where he will look for a partner. at this point he's fed up, he's like maybe i can just find someone tolerable w low expectations for a partner. w/e. at least the costumes will be fun. and OBVIOUSLY marc has to go. this could be his only chance to see vale again!! future ghosting is enabled by the masks!! he'll just go to the balls, try to have a good time, and then disappear again. probably vale won't even notice him! (alex doubts this, but he doesn't have a chance of talking marc out of it)

so marc rocks up to the ball in disguise. he tries to avoid dancing w vale at first, but it's hard to dodge him bc vale is everywhere, trying to dance w everyone, and so they eventually are partnered up. since their chemistry is just TOO GOOD like literally they r made for each other they are both still in love and vale doesn't know it's marc but he's immediately struck by this charming stranger. who DOES kind of remind him of marc, same sense of humor and everything, but is clearly not marc. bc why would marc be here??? he never loved vale, after all. meanwhile marc is freaking out bc he knows he should NOT be letting vale pursue him again but he also ofc cannot resist

AND THEN! the final ball arrives, marc is getting ready to ghost, vale is wondering if he could possibly get it together for a relationship with someone whose name he doesn't even know or if he should just take the safe bet, fears resigning himself to misery but fears risking it all for happiness that turns out to be impossible. somehow, as they're about to part but both are lingering, marc's mask gets knocked off, and vale sees who he is, is barely to choke out "marc?" before marc is bolting from the ballroom, panicked, fleeing yet again

but vale isn't letting him go this time. he follows marc, and ends up confronting him in a small side room halfway to the entrance hall. at this point i think vale is just confused and frustrated and hurting and it all comes bursting out: that he really cared about marc, that he once thought of marrying him, that the thought of marc has haunted him for years. and he asks marc: why? if you cared about me, why did you leave me? if you told the truth that you don't, why are you here? just to torment me?

marc is feeling pretty tormented himself tbh. he can't tell vale the truth for his own safety, but he can't stand lying to him. vale is poking at him, throwing out accusations to try to get a reaction, saying crueler and crueler things so he can discern marc's thoughts from his winces. and eventually marc breaks, bc what vale is saying is so far from the truth, and just blurts: "no, i love you, vale. i did, i do-" and vale, exhausted, says: "if you love me, marc, then marry me. marry me."

which is, of course, an order.

if you've read the book you know what happens next. marc wants to say yes more than anything, has for once been ordered to do something he would do in a heartbeat anyway, but all of the reasons he can't are still there. he's fighting as hard as he can despite the pain, clamping a hand over his mouth and biting down. vale knows something is wrong but not what, and he's just called for help when marc bursts out "NO!!!" and then, having disobeyed an order for the first time in his life and gone through quite a bit of physical pain to do so, immediately starts sobbing. when the guards bust in, they find vale comforting him.

as soon as marc calms down, he tells vale everything. they get married six months later, and as the book puts it, they live in love and laughter. the end <3

#oh my godddd op im sending u an edible arrangement a box of chocolate and a million dollars #fave childhood book + current favorite insane motorsports men this is literally everything i could have asked for #rosquez #fic #like u need to know this affected me in insane ways i am SO SO SO moved #motogp

97 notes · View notes

scuderiaspringsteen · 1 hour ago

Text

yeehaw i guess 🤠

#glad one red team is committed to the bdsm pr strat #marcnaia #mm93 #pb63

391 notes · View notes

scuderiaspringsteen · 1 hour ago

Text

#oh wow.....this is literally everything to me #vr46 #beautifulllll #art #motogp

110 notes · View notes

scuderiaspringsteen · 3 hours ago

Note

9 or 13 caseyvale? perhaps?

13. Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions — casey/vale, 576 words

“Would you pet my head again?” The little blond thing hanging off his arm asks him. Valentino laughs, caught off guard.

“You want me to pet you? ‘Again,’ you say, when did I do that?”

“In Qatar,” Casey Stoner, terribly young and terribly drunk and glowing with it, says, very seriously. “When I beat you!”

Casey remembers Qatar a little differently, Valentino imagines. You never forget your first, or something like that. Although, based on how much of Casey's weight he's carrying at the moment, he's probably not going to retain much of this night. To be fair, he's doing categorically better than Valentino was when he won his 500cc championship. He'd already been with at least two hookers before they'd even made it to the club, back then, and he hadn't sobered up for at least month after that.

The 21-year-old clinging to his tshirt has probably never met a hooker in his life, if Valentino had to guess. It's probably for the best.

“Allora, and you want me to do it again?” He hums, still amused.

Casey grins up at him, bright, pale, hazy. “You’re Valentino Rossi.”

Like many things do these days, this year, it makes Valentino’s stomach feel weird. He's been feeling weird all night, really, though he's blaming it on all the ridiculous Ducati red giving him a headache, and not the creeping fear that maybe he's getting a little old to be partying like this.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your team?” He changes the subject. “It is a big deal, you know, to be their first.” On the far side of the club, opposite the exit, Loris is trying to teach a group of businessmen and a few of Casey’s mechanics an old Italian drinking song, to varying degrees of success. He scans the rest of the tables, taking in the sea of red, and for a brief, inexplicable moment, he finds himself looking for Sete. Christ.

Casey’s dramatic sigh pulls him out of his head in an instant. He tucks himself even further under Valentino’s arm, training a look he knows very well up at him, blinking slowly. Valentino knows all his tricks, can see the thoughts processing on his face in real time, and yet he finds himself giving in, relenting. Bringing a hand around to gently tap the soft, fine strands on the top of Casey’s head. He’s a little sweaty—four hours in a Tokyo nightclub will do that to anyone, really, and young champions especially. Even on a Monday.

“It’s not flattery, you know?” Casey says, apropos of nothing. His eyes are still closed. “My shirt.”

“Hmm? What’s that?” Valentino bites, curiosity getting the better of him. What he should really be doing, instead of petting the kid who just thoroughly destroyed him for fifteen races straight, is finding someone who can get him safely back to his hotel.

Casey pulls away, finally, and Valentino’s hand falls limply to his side as the full force of those icey blue eyes focus entirely on him. He wonders, idly, if this is how Biaggi or—Sete, even, used to feel, and the idea of it is so horrifying that he takes an involuntary step back.

“You really were one of my heroes,” Casey says, earnestly.

Fuck, Valentino thinks, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. Past-tense. Something Sete once told him swims in the back of his mind, about athletes, and dying twice. That sounds about right.

#oh gosh so much happening here i am thorougly entranced #the thing about atheletes and dying twice.....augh #motogp #casey/vale #fic

17 notes · View notes