#and occasionally i think about sequel to this fic where vale rides casey on the yamaha in his bedroom

[rubyreadd]

🎤talk about all three of your vale wips if you want

One common misunderstanding I see about Casey and Valentino's relationship and rivalry, which was exemplified by Casey's visit to the ranch, is the assumption that Casey and Vale despise each other. Yes, towards the end of Casey's motogp career things got petty and snippy between them, but their issues have always been about each other as riders and competitors. Not so much the actual person.

Vale has been always openly complimentary of Casey and considers him one of the greatest to ever do it. Vale liked fighting Casey on track! He had fun! Vale radiates such joy in all of the media about Casey's visit to the ranch because this is about sharing passion and history with a man Vale holds in high regard.

And as much as Casey continues to hold grudges against Valentino, he does like the bloke. In his post about visiting the ranch, Casey wrote in the caption that despite the many differences and years between them, Valentino and he will always share racing and bikes. Sure, Casey's niceties towards Vale can have a double-edged quality, but in my opinion, that is an awfully fond thing for Casey to say about the person he's apparently been exploding with his mind since his debut.

So that's where we find ourselves at the beginning of my Casey/Vale ranch fic. Written from Casey's POV because I love sinking my teeth into the marrow of why some people are Like That, this fic is about trying to reconcile with the fact that the one person who knows you best in the world is the guy you (don't) hate the most.

Since his retirement, Casey has kept a professional separation between him and Valentino. They raced together and they were each other's rival. Casey won and then Valentino won more. Everything they shared refined to career statistics.

Whenever he's asked, Casey calls him Valentino, or Rossi. Exceptional. Indomitable. A bit of a cunt.

Even the things Casey doesn't talk about he keeps pigeonholed. The touching, the compliments, the sex- it was about what they could take from each other.

So when Valentino texts Casey inviting him to the Ranch it shouldn't even warrant a second thought to politely decline. Instead, Casey leaves Valentino on read for twenty four hours before accepting, a decision he justifies as morbid curiosity.

Everything unravels fairly quickly after that.

For the sake of building forced proximity narrative tension, Casey spends a long weekend at the Ranch. He offers to get a hotel but Valentino laughs him off and tells Casey he'll be staying with Valentino. Which is.. fine.

The drive over is spent rationalising being at the Ranch as like being at one of the many training camps Casey has done over his career. A no stakes weekend that will be attended by most of Valentino's academy and almost certainly used for social media promotion. Which makes it fine.

Pulling into the Ranch, it's Valentino who heads the welcome party, because of course it is. Casey is barely out of the car before Valentino is drawing him into a hug, familiar and warm, greeting Casey with such enthusiasm it splits his face into a one thousand watt smile.

And then they're off.

That first day is indeed spent mostly like a training camp. Valentino takes him on the grand tour, a non-stop spout of narration that Casey nods attentively along to. Of course Casey always knew the Ranch was important to Valentino, but this is something else entirely.

Although the thought doesn't stay with Casey for long because Valentino shepherds him into the garage and towards his bike. They chase each other around the track, the rumble of Valentino's bike behind him, the shining yellow of his leathers in front; it's like it's 2008 all over again. Which again, is fine.

In between sessions Casey pinballs from conversation to conversation. There's Marco, who is Casey is genuinely happy to see. He wraps Casey up in another hearty hug-- Italians --and listens eagerly while Casey regales him with all his happier memories on a bike.

Luca snags him next. He's keen on Casey's setup process and riding ethos and is an attentive student as Casey explains his practice. Valentino wanders over at some point to join his brother and Casey pauses expecting an interruption, but Valentino seems content to just listen while Casey talks.

And when night has well and truly settled over the track, Valentino, wide eyed and hopeful, invites Casey to dinner. Casey tells himself it's because it would be rude to refuse his host's hospitality when so much effort was went too. Not because he likes having Valentino's attention. Not even they sit together all night, pressed almost shoulder to hip.

It is only in the sanctity of the guest bedroom Valentino prepared for him that Casey makes his confession. Lying in bed Casey picks apart the Instagram post Valentino tags him in, his video self almost unrecognisable. There's one, shortly after Luca had taken his leave, and Casey had taken his spot next to Valentino. They lean into each other, a scant few inches a part.

Casey turns his head into the pillow, breathing in clean laundry and jerks himself off to what he thinks, hopes, is Valentino's lingering scent.

The next day is quieter, just him and Valentino mostly. They race each other until they can't remember who's leading the scoreboard. Until Casey's mouth tastes like dust. Until they collapse against each other, exhausted, and the vibrations of Valentino's laugh feel like the purr of Casey's bike under him.

Casey wants to turn and run. He doesn't belong here, in Valentino's space, his home, his heart carved into the landscape that raised him.

Casey stands abruptly, mumbling an empty excuse about showering, but before he can flee a hand closes around his ankle. He looks down and Valentino has shifted onto his knees, looking up at Casey equal parts apprehensive and awed.

"You still race like a god"

Something snaps. Or maybe it clicks into place. Casey manhandles Valentino over his bike, hobbling Valentino with his leathers and stretching him open with spit and sweat. Base, is how Casey fucks Valentino, restraint trampled under the weight of Casey's want as he takes Valentino apart in the dirt, on the track.

Bikes have never been about romance to Casey, but when Valentino looks over his shoulder at him, the shape of the chassis pressed into his face while his voice breaks around Casey's name, Casey is overcome by a heady rush of understanding. Finally he has mastered both the man and machine that have defined his life, and now absolute victory, trembling and sweet, is his.