lestappen, gen, 3.4k, getting together, first kiss, polyamory
"MAX!"
Halfway across Parc Fermé a voice rings out, loud and Monegasque and happy. It stops his rant in its tracks, pulls his gaze away from the wincing man he calls his race engineer, to stare up and across the insanely large group of people in between himself and the cars parked below the podium.
A blur of red comes running - lightning-fast, pushing through the throng, followed by at least three different cameras. He can feel his eyes growing large at the sight of a windswept Charles Leclerc, fresh race winner of the British GP, rushing to meet him, after he DNFed, no less.
"What?" he asks once more, but the word is forced to die on his tongue, as Charles' happy face comes into focus for the tiniest blink of an eye - the crinkles on the Monegasque's face so pronounced from a blinding smile, it makes the breath freeze inside Max's lungs.
None of it prepares him for the moment their lips meet, though.
--
or: a kiss shared in parc fermé after the british gp
hiiii i am so absolutely obsessed with your omegaverse - like, it’s the definitive version i think of now. i just love how established the world is and the roles/designations within it
that being said, i’ve recently come across fics where the normal world shifts into a/b/o out of nowhere. suddenly everyone is presenting and no kne knows what’s happening, total chaos. and it obviously got me thinking about your au and how it would go if the same thing happened
i don’t really know where i was going with this, sorry if it isn’t appropriate to put here and feel free to delete!
Gang we have got to get less apologetic about existing.
Hi Anon! Welcome to the Ask Box, make yourself comfortable. Thank you so much for not only reading by stuff, but coming to tell me how much you enjoyed it. I am delighted to have become your default omegaverse setting.
I know where you were going with this: would you ever consider writing something like this? Right this second? No, but it is going into the ideas doc, and thank you for sharing this with me.
Let it be known to all anons across the land---and yourself---that "I think a fic like this could be cool" is both appropriate and acceptable to send to me.
Now back to your idea. Genuinely the only thing I can think about right now is all of the poor social media admins that are going to have to do a teamwide/factorywide seminar on the omegaverse in order to explain what the fuck is happening.
Sunday after the race is when everybody starts presenting
By Tuesday Max is in the factory for an emergency all team meeting where the social media girls are telling them about that fanfiction thing that he's not supposed to read and how there's this trope called the omegaverse and that's what's happening to them.
He's not allowed to leave until they get a chance to diagnose him with his second gender: Alpha.
On Wednesday he gets a reading list of Supernatural omegaverse fanfictions in his email. He gets through two
On Thursday he smells Charles in the paddock and his regular crush immediately turns into the need to breed. Which he shoves right the fuck down because what the fuck.
He reads a couple more of this stories.
But they aren't helpful.
He emails the social media team: has this stuff been written about me?
Team: Yes. Most of them are ship fics, so you are dating one of the other drivers. If you want to see some please don't look it up yourself, I will curate something for you.
Max: Please.
Team: sends him a bunch of Lestappen things cause that's the biggest ship so there's some not smut stuff. (also my fics so I can just quote myself directly about the shit Max is reading and reflecting on)
These are more helpful. Because they tell him exactly how he is supposed to act as an alpha.
Sunday after the race Charles is calling asking Max to come to his hotel room because his nest doesn't smell right, and Max blanks.
Charles is clearly picking up being in the omegaverse better than Max is
And then we either end in cuddles or Charles is in fact in preheat, and Max has to quickly go find the stuff on Ao3 that's actually going to be useful right about now.
The poor poor social media admins. Thanks for the idea, come back any time. This was really fun to develop.
Werewolf dom/sub 'foster' au where newly-turned wolves must be placed in the care of an alpha who either leads their own pack, was born into it, or has simply been around and stabilised for long enough that they're respected in the community.
Human Robby who's aware that Jack has put in for some time off recently because he has been assigned a new wolf by the state. He feels vaguely ashamed that he hasn't been checking in as thoroughly as he should, but he has been finding time to message and ask Jack how his latest 'cub' is between shifts.
Jack's responses have always been that everything is going fine, it's an adjustment as usual, but nothing out of the ordinary. Robby feels like there's something that he's missing, some unspoken context lurking in bright white between the words. He presses Jack, but doesn't have as much time as he'd like to hunt down the trail that Jack isn't doing a great job of covering up.
One evening, just as he's clocking out, he gets a message from Jack that takes the guesswork out of it all.
Need your help with my puppy. He's struggling and he's a fucking handful and I gotta admit I'm not doing right by him. You free to help me out?
And there's only one answer Robby will ever give to Jack.
Always.
Robby hears the issue before he's even stepped into Jack's house.
Even through the closed door, he can hear Jack's footsteps approaching, and underneath that, a constant, fractious whining sound, interspersed with the sound of rhythmically-clanging metal.
"Brother, am I fucking glad to see you."
Jack leans heavily into Robby's embrace, and even to Robby's human nose he smells like sweat, exhaustion, and the slightly wheaty-milky smell that all newly-turned wolves have.
Robby follows Jack through the house and watches him flop on the couch with a sigh. Robby notices the fabric on the corners has been torn, and the wood underneath has been chewed into damp, splintered crescents.
The whines that have been drifting through the house suddenly pick up in their intensity, and Jack's eyes grow fond even through the exhaustion.
"Dennis, buddy, I'm right here. You're okay, I'll be with you in a minute."
Robby takes a seat next to Jack, allowing the warmth of their thighs to press against each other.
"Tell me what's happening, brother."
The whining in the next room pauses, chokes and grumbles into something wary, something warning. Jack opens his mouth, but Robby cuts him off.
"Ignore him, he'll be fine. You know he'll be fine. Let him cry for a minute, it won't hurt him. Tell me."
Jack sighs, scrubs a hand down his face.
"He's a sweet kid."
"That why your furniture's all chewed up?"
"He is a sweet kid. The furniture is chewed up because he's also a brat, he's scared, he's restless, and he's in pain. I also think he's - not particularly one of the lucky ones."
Robby ducked his head, curtailing some of the comments that had been tripping off the tip of his tongue, about Jack being a soft touch and thinking that all brats were sweet kids, even when sometimes a brat is just a brat.
Dennis being...unlucky changed things, just a little.
Sometimes, particularly if a turning is violent and traumatic, it can do more than just make a wolf of a man. Sometimes, the change can knock something off-kilter in both man and beast, and in the worst cases, loved ones have reported being barely able to recognise their person, even when they're not under the influence of the transformation.
"Did you know him before? What kind of severity are we looking at here?"
Jack shook his head, cast a quick glance back at the spare room, where the sounds have quieted to the gentle, metallic shuddering sounds of teeth gnawing on a cage.
"I didn't know him before, so it's not like I can comment on his baseline. It's more that I see something in him sometimes, and I know that's probably who he was before all this."
Robby leans over to press a hand to Jack's back, sweeping it up and down in broad strokes, daring once or twice to venture to the back of Jack's neck and squeeze comfortingly.
"Severity? Nothing too bad - he's not really aggressive, he's just...incredibly rambunctious, restless to the point where even he's frustrated with it, and he swings between wanting to take a bite out of me to being so incredibly clingy that I can't take a piss in peace."
Robby quirks a smile at that.
"Cute. Sounds like just another day at the office to me, Abbot." His lips twitch at Jack's snort, and he flicks his gaze to the spare room and the gnawing sounds.
"What are we today? Clingy, or bitey?"
"Can't a man have a bit of both?"
Robby rolls his eyes, jerks his head at Jack.
"Helpful. C'mon then, bring him out here and I'll take a look."
---
Jack is gone for longer than Robby had anticipated, and he hears the low, soothing rumble of his voice followed by the clink of a crate door being unlatched, and then the whining sounds from earlier return with a vengeance.
"Oh, I know, I know. There you go, you're okay, I'm back now. Come on, we're going to go through and meet a friend of mine."
Quiet, frantic chattering that Robby can't quite make out.
"Yes, I'm sure he'll like you, and I'm sure he'll want to be your friend too. But you have to be a good boy, because Robby only likes good boys."
Robby raises his eyebrows reflexively, barely has time to school his face and wipe the slight smirk off it before Jack rounds the corner, half-dragging Dennis behind him by a firm grip on the back of his neck.
"Dennis, this is my friend, Robby. Robby, this is Dennis."
Jack has to practically drag Dennis to sit on the couch with him, pulling him tightly to his side to try to contain some of the restless wiggling and attempts to climb into Jack's lap and seemingly directly into his skin.
"Hi Dennis. I know this must all be very confusing, and I know you're struggling, and I'm here to help with that. Jack's told me a little bit about you, but would you like to tell me about yourself?"
"No." Spat petulantly into Jack's neck, where Dennis is trying to hide himself. Jack's gaze hardens a little.
"Dennis. I told you, Robby is my friend, and he's trying to be yours. You will be polite."
Dennis whines like Jack has told him he can't have his favourite treat, and Robby finds himself ticking off all the relevant boxes in his head, and writing little notes in the imaginary margins.
He tilts his head, tries to make eye contact with Dennis, who only glares at him with one baleful eye, the other hidden in Jack's clavicle.
"Dennis, I think it's going to be a lot more helpful if you look at me and answer my questions. Can you do that?"
"Fuck off."
Jack looks like he's about to snap a reprimand, but Robby simply nods at Dennis, slow and calm, as if he's made a mildly interesting observation.
"Okay." Soft and gentle, voice pitched low as if to soothe. Robby makes eye contact with Jack, asking a question that doesn't need to be spoken between them. Jack nods in return, and Robby smiles.
He's standing almost as fast as a natural-born wolf, one hand closing on Dennis' scruff and the other on his wrist with practiced ease, and he hauls him off of Jack, manhandling him while he wails and writhes in his grip.
Those newly sharp teeth snap around the air where Robby's hand was, and Dennis grunts in surprise when Robby easily nudges the back of his knees and sends him toppling to the floor, bent and kneeling beside Robby's legs.
A sharp crack snaps through the air, and Dennis' startled cry is almost comically delayed. Robby's hand stays poised by Dennis' thigh, where it has just made a hard and sudden impact.
"You do not bite." Robby's other huge hand is clamped hard around Dennis' neck, and he shakes him by the scruff briefly for emphasis, jiggling a soft whine from Dennis in the process. Robby leans down to speak into Dennis' poor, red ear as the puppy flushes in shock and humiliation. His voice is like velvet, gentle and calm and slightly unsettling if it's rubbed the wrong way. "You do not bite me, and from now on you do not bite Jack unless I'm here to supervise your playtime. I can already see you've done damage to his furniture, but that stops now. Oh, I know, that's all very cruel, isn't it?"
Robby has slowly manipulated Dennis so his head is forced to lie on his knee. He can see the poor thing's eyes darting frantically towards Jack. He taps Dennis' thigh once more in warning, clicks his tongue.
"No, I'm talking to you now. You don't need to look at Jack, he's already put up with enough from you."
A choked whine with some real distress in it, and Robby lets his voice soften just a little.
"Don't work yourself up, he's not abandoning you and you're still his very sweet little puppy that he's very fond of. But you've been misbehaving - no, we don't need to hear any whining from you, thank you - so I'm going to help you be a good boy for Jack. Because I think that's what you want, isn't it? Just to be a good, sweet boy, am I right?"
Despite the shock still clouding his eyes and making his pulse flutter frantically at his throat, Dennis' body has started to unwind from its unbearable tightness as Robby's voice washes over him, and his head grows heavy as he settles, trance-like, further into Robby's lap and his hold. He nods, once, barely perceptible.
Jack smiles and Robby coos gently down at Dennis, who is aware on some level that this big, strange man is patronising him, but he just can't bring himself to wish that he'd stop. The words, the voice, they all drag him down to a place where the aches and pains and frantic, screaming new instincts in his body are all like distant, fading echoes in a dark place. It's peaceful here.
"Oh, what a good boy. See, we can be friends now, can't we?" Robby glances up at Jack, keeps one hand locked to the back of Dennis' neck and squeezing rhythmically.
"Is he eating?"
"Inconsistently. Sometimes he acts like he's starving, other days I have to wrestle water down his throat. Nothing too out of the ordinary, given the new senses can be pretty overwhelming."
Robby nods, running his other hand up and down Dennis' back, feeling his muscles shudder and chase the sensation. He allows himself a small smirk up at Jack.
"Touch?"
"Wanted. Constantly."
Robby chortles a rusty laugh at the dryness of Jack's tone, the quirk of his eyebrow.
"But he's also incredibly restless, and his muscles and bones hurt all the time from the change. He wants to pace and play and wrestle - and bite - at all fucking hours. He won't stay still enough for anything else. He barely sleeps, which is only making everything worse."
"Okay." Robby nods thoughtfully, patting Dennis' back and feeling him twitch in response. "Well, let's start there, then. See if we can't get some of this tension out of you, hmm?"
Without any further discussion or hesitation, Robby reaches the hand that isn't clamped on Dennis' neck down to his legs, and nudges them apart.
"Okay Dennis, just let me in and give me some room - there you go, there's a good boy."
Dennis is so startled by the hand easily dipping below his waistband that he barely does anything more than grunt at the sensation of one of those big, hairy hands closing around his cock. He reflexively jerks, tries to curl around the intrusive hand, but his neck is still being squeezed, his head still pressed against Robby's knee, and even the gentle, steady pressure on his cock isn't enough to fully yank him out of that warm, comfortable low place he's sunk to. He whimpers when Robby's hand actually starts moving firmly, stroking up and down his cock in a somewhat clinical fashion.
"Mm, I know, you weren't expecting that, were you? Poor puppy. I know, it's all very personal, isn't it?" Robby's musing in the same mild way he might have been talking about the weather, and it makes something writhe in Dennis' belly as his hips start to twitch ever so slightly. "Just relax, there's a good boy. You've got all that pent up energy, and it's only getting you in trouble, isn't it? Give it to me and I'll get rid of it, there we go."
"He's responsive, that's a good sign," Robby directs casually to Jack, who has resumed swigging at his beer as he lets Dennis hold hazy eye contact with him. He smiles at his poor, befuddled boy as his cheeks start to flush and he starts to vocalise in tiny, repeated little whimpers.
"Can't say I'm surprised," Jack returns easily, "he's all over me the minute I do so much pat his hand. Hell, sometimes all I have to do is look at him and he'll come running over here like I've dangled a treat in front of him."
"Jack!" Tearful and wobbly, Dennis' part-plea part-protest almost gets swallowed by his unsteady breathing as Robby starts to twist his wrist on the upstroke.
"Ah ah, drop the attitude." Robby ceases all movement, gripping Dennis' cock tight at the base and nodding when it tears a quiet cry from Dennis' throat. His hips bob helplessly, though it does him no good to essentially be humping the air. "If you want to whine, I'll make sure you have something to whine about."
"I'm - I'm sorry. Robby, I'm sorry."
"Not to me."
"Jack - Jack, I'm sorry. Sir, I promise I'm so - I'm so sorry."
"Very pretty, such a good boy." Robby gently coos down at him, slowly resuming his stroking as Jack lowly assures Dennis.
"I know you are, Den. You're doing very well. Does that feel nice?"
Dennis nods frantically, as much as he can with Robby's hand still clamping down on his neck and keeping his head on his lap. His eyes are red-rimmed as they gaze up at Jack, whimpers falling quietly but far more freely from his lips as he alternates between holding his breath and panting in desperate, gulping breaths.
"You've been tense and hurting for a long time, haven't you Dennis?" Robby murmurs, low and quiet into his ear. A sound a lot like a sob tears its way through Dennis' throat and he nods in frantic, undone agreement. His hips are faltering in their rhythm.
"And it's all built and built inside you until it all comes pouring out," Robby glides his fingers over the head of Dennis' cock, feels his whole body twitch, "in such naughty behaviour. So we're going to make sure you have a proper outlet for that, hmm? We're going to make sure you're nice and empty down here, so that head of yours can be quiet and fuzzy and relaxed."
Dennis is starting to let out urgent little sounds now, eyes glued to Jack, almost like he's making a distress call, begging Jack to answer, to give him what he needs.
"Robby-"
"He can come when he's remembered his manners."
"Please! Sir - please. Can I? I'll be good, I promise I'll be - be good."
Robby laughs at the sheer desperation, and Jack makes a lazy attempt to hide just how sweet he finds it. Robby raises his brows at Jack, shrugs at him.
"He's your puppy, not mine."
"Go ahead, Denny, let Robby get it all out of you."
The way Dennis curls violently around Robby's hand, the way he wails, open-mouthed and distraught, Jack almost thinks he's in mortal pain. He shudders and sobs and convulses in Robby's hand while the older man shushes him and gradually slows the action of the hand between his legs, while the one gripping Dennis' neck starts up a gentle palpating motion.
Jack feels compelled to reach over and stroke a hand down Dennis' narrow, shuddering back.
"Denny?"
A low, ruined sob is his only answer, and it pulls at Jack's hearstrings. He looks to Robby for approval, and a brief, fond nod is his only answer. He reaches down to haul Dennis up beneath his armpits, passing his limp, shuddering form easly over to Jack.
"Hey sweetheart." Jack rumbles into Dennis' ear, settling him against his chest, patting the muscles that still twitch. "Does it all feel a little less staticky now?"
An exhausted whine is the only sound the drifts up from the shuddering heap that is Jack's puppy, and Robby snorts fondly.
"Go put him to bed, before he does a header straight into the floor." Robby's wiping his hand off as he casts a fleeting look up at Jack. "When you come back, we can talk logistics for how this is all going to work."
It's in Monaco where Nico feels his little heart crack: when it dawns on him that Lewis isn't going to be coming back to him after the racing is done, that they're never going to settle down in a house somewhere and start raising the fastest, smartest, kindest, best pups in the world.
OR: Nico's strategy to deal with losing Lewis is to become very normal about Max Verstappen who is looking very pup-shaped in a Toro Rooso race suit.
I also posted two drabbles today, but I don't want to make individual posts for them so here:
My Little Grid Terror - MNTR, Nico & Max, Abu Dhabi 2016
T'es Bel en Blanc - Lestappen wedding fluff (Not MNTR)
[This is a one shot in an AU where Pedro is the biological son of Dani. In this version, Jorge and Dani were dating since 2012, but broke up in 2018. Placed in 2019]
Jorge felt a strong pressure in his back, despite the strong painkillers. His eyes were closed, trying to ignore the dark pain of his still fresh injury.
And the fact that he was alone. Utterly - truly alone in his hospital room.
No Dani, fuzzing over him. There was no inch of familiar skin that pressed against his, that offered comfort, love and warmth. Dani was there, holding his hand, making sure he was okay and keeping him calm.
There was no Pedro, sitting in a corner, watching his two father interact, acting like he didn't care while being clearly worried, while his eyes were darting over Jorge's injured body like he was waiting for a reaction that would never came.
They were both not there.
They were both over a hundred kilometer away, at home. And both no longer cared enough to even reach out.
And it was all his fault.
It made it worst, somehow, knowing he had put himself into this situation.
He pressed his eyes shut with all the force he could gather. He didn't want to think about it. He had spend every waking moment since he had shut that door behind himself in that one night remembering and forcing himself to forgot.
But he couldn't.
All he could do was remember the betrayal in Dani's eyes. The hurt look that had turned into anger when he had realized what Jorge had done and what it implied.
Silly season had been over. There was no team looking for riders anymore.
Dani wouldn't have a seat for the next season.
Jorge had known that.
He had thought it over every day while Honda had lied straight to Dani's face about extending his contract causing Dani to leave the negotiations with other teams.
He had known that Dani would not have a seat for the next year and it was excatly what he had wanted, why he had decided not to tell him.
It wasn't that he wanted Dani gone. If it was up to Jorge, he would want to keep dani in tbe paddock along side him until they both retired at the same time.
But Jorge knew how much this sport had destroyed Dani physically. He knew how fucked his whole body was. He knew that one more crash would cause irreparably damage.
And Dani wasn't backing down. He wasn't stepping away. He still wanted to race while his body screamed at him to stop.
And if he didn't listen - Jorge would.
So he had made sure dani would quit. One way or tbe other.
And it cost him everything.
It cost him his relationship, his home, the love and safety they shared and it had cost him his son - step son - Pedro who he had loved and raised since the boy was 8 years old, staring him down with an unimpressed expression on his small face.
He hated the choice he made. He hated that he had lost his family. He hated that Dani and him had stopped seeing eye to eye - they had cursed and fought - until Jorge decided it was enough.
He didn't want Pedro to grow up like that. He had seen it in the boys eyes tbe morning before. The way he looked almost scared as his eyes darted from his dad to his papa and back again.
But he hadn't said anything.
Maybe that's what scared him tbe most.
The fact that Pedro who had always.
So he decided to leave after their next fight and never look back.
After all, he needed to know Dani would survived. He needed Dani to stop, now that motogp hadn't taken anything from him that wouldn't return. Now that he had survived this far and his luck and his body was running out.
He wanted to make sure Pedro still had his papa. Even if it meant, he was no longer part of Dani's or Pedro's life.
And he thought he could make peace with that. Until he was laying in a hospital bed, drugged and in pain, waiting for an operation, scared of what the future would bring apart from this.
Being in the hospital. In pain. Alone.
Then the door slid open.
He heard it but he didn't open his eyes. He acted like he was sleeping, not wanting to face anyone yet.
He didn't care who it was. Maybe his mother. Or his sister. Or some team official.
He didn't want to see his families worries. He didn't want to pretend he was fine. He wasn't fine. Neither physically nor mentally. He didn't want them to care about him, if the one - well two - person he wanted, no longer wanted him.
And he didn't want to look at a Honda shirt.
Honda. The root of all this.
He heard the door close again. A step. Hesitation.
Jorge tried to keep his breathing even, like he was sleeping. He hoped whoever it may be would leave.
Then a voice.
"Are- Are you okay?" No more than a whisper. A high pitched whisper.
He knew that voice. Oh he knew that voice from the breakfast table, from school pick ups and from every family moment he was ever able to share.
He tore his eyes open, staring at the 15 year old, hovering in tbe middle of tbe room. Pedro. He stood there, with his long arms and his lanky body, he was yet to grow into. His eyes were wide, filled with fear and hesitation.
"Pedro?" he asked, his voice broken. He stared at the boy, sure his eyes were lying to him. Maybe it were his pain killers. Maybe it was a hallucinations, a trick of his own brain.
"Pedro." he decided he didn't care. He took tbe small, almost impossible chance that his son was there.
"Pedro, what are you doing here?" Jorge asked, still confused. The boy should be in school. Or at home. Anywhere but a hundred of kilometers from his school and his home, from his father.
He noticed the faint blush, the shifting on his feet. He knew he had just caught him doing something he shouldn't have.
"I... I was in the area and wanted to see how you are doing?" he replied slowly. His voice was low as he lingered at the door. It hurt the older to see how hesitant he was. Like he had forgotten how to act around him, now that Jorge and his father had broken him.
"OH Pedro" he mumbled. He stretched out his hand, reaching for the teenager. He was well aware that a teenager had no business anywhere near the Barcelona hospital. "Come here, won't you? I swear to you, I'm okay."
Pedro immediately stepped closer, crossing the room, now that he has permission. Jorge had expected that he took his hand. In the best case. Or maybe sat down next to him. Instead he leaned over him and hugged him as best as he could without hurting tbe motogp rider.
"I was so scared when you didn't move" he whispered quickly, his voice breaking. "I thought - I thought you... I was scared, da-" he never finished the word.
Jorge knew what he wanted to say. The young boy had called him dad since he was 11. But he understood why he didn't finish his sentence.
Instead he just hold the boy as close as he could, his hands gently caressing his hair. His armhurt, his shoulder screamed at him to stop the movement and he was almost sure his back was protesting as well.
But right now, none of that mattered. Not when he had his son finally back in his arms. He wouldn’t throw away those few seconds he had craved so despretaly for a bit of comfort.
Instead he smiled and gently scratched the younger man’s head, knowing it calmed him.
He didn't move. He just let Pedro decide what he needed, internally grateful for every second.
He heard a small sniffle. The boy was visible shaken, shooked from the force of the crash and in what state it had left him. "I'm okay." he muttered, trying to offer him the bit of reassurance he could get. "Pedro, I swear to you, I'm okay."
Pedro bit on his lip. He knew he shouldn't be here. He was still angry at Jorge and he shouldn't cuddle up to him like this, like he had always done, like all that had never happened, like he hadn’t broken his papa’s heart and trust.
But he couldn't help it.
He had been sitting in class, his phone playing the testing live stream on silent, hidden in his pencil case - a trick he had used for many, many sessions before. It allowed him to watch his father's performance. And it ended up making him witness the crash live.
He watched how the older got thrown around – something Pedro was too used to seeing – but then for a second he didn’t move. And pedro had felt his heart sink. He felt a pressure in his chest, like he couldn’t breath.
For a moment he had thought the last time he had seen his dad would be when he had given him an angry glance at his papa’s last race.
He didn’t want that to be the last thing Jorge had seen from him.
But he got up, struggling to walk but he was up – more or less.
Pedro tried to focus, to tell himself that it wasn’t that bad. That he was up and walking. He’d survive…
But the feeling remained. And before he knew, he took his phone, excused himself to the toilet and started researching buses to the hospital, he knew Jorge would be taken too. Then he returned to class. As soon as the bell rung for the break, he took his bag… And left the school.
He knew he had another few hours ahead of him. He silently hoped the school wouldn’t call his papa and he’s manage to sneak back home before he even noticed.
On the bus ride, he checked the news. He saw many speculation, including paralyzes. A broken back. One thing more horrible than the next and he took it all in. He took in the pain, the fear, the regret of everything that had happened.
He still carried these emotions inside him as he finally got to hug his dad again. He clinged to him, letting himself pretend the Honda contract never existed.
Then he stood back up again. He brushed away his tears, trying to pretend he wasn't crying. But he was. And he was exhausted from it all.
He let himself fall down on the chair next to the bed, looking at the now current Honda rider. "So... You're okay? Like... Overall?"
Jorge snorted. "No. Not really. I'm alive."
Pedro nodded. He knew that sometimes, this was there baseline. It was something his papa said whenever the oain of an injury was unbearable and so intense, he didn’t want Pedro to know, but he also didn’t want to lie. Instead he’s just give the boy a soft kiss. “I’m alive” or “I’ll live” would be his go to.
He looked him over. He looked him in the eyes. There was something he couldn’t quiet place. Maybe a longing. Maybe a desperation.
It looked like he saw something in Pedro that he had missed. And he knew exactly who that was.
"You miss my dad?" Jorge let out a long sigh. Then he nodded. "Yeah" he admitted.
"Homo" Pedro chuckled, his face wearing an evil grin. Jorge rolled his eyes but smiled. He had missed the boys stupid comments more than anything.
"Oh? And how is your little friend Fermin?" he teased back, allowing himself to forget the situation and his own pain for a few seconds. He of course caught how the boys face turn slightly more red in embarrassment.
He watched him open his mouth, undouble to make another comment when a song interrupted them.
Pedro pulled his phone out his pocket, his face immediately becoming more tense.
"Wait, that's your dad's ringtone." Jorge pointed out.
"I know. He's going to kill me-" he muttered. Pedro watched the phone ring, his eyes fixed on the screen. Jorge couldn't blame him. Then he realized Pedro was planning on just letting the phone ring, letting Dani's call go to voice mail.
Dani had called him a few times already, ever since the school had informed him that Pedro hadn’t shown to 2 lessons. He had called him and then Fermin’s mother, silently hoping both boys had ditched school and simply went out together. But that wasn’t the case.
His worry had increased immediately after that. And then Pedro hadn’t answered a single call, just send him a quick text “I’m okay”.
Jorge watched Pedro waiting to miss another call. Slowly he understood what that meant. If Pedro didn’t answer – Dani didn’t know. Dani didn’t know he was here. He didn’t know where his son was off to.
Jorge knew first hand how overprotective Dani was of his son. He knew that this was probably Dani’s worst nightmare.
"Give me your phone" he said clearly. "Dad-" he slipped. "Phone. Now." He demanded. He stretched his hand out and was giving the device.
He accepted the call without hesitation. And without knowing what to do and what to say. All he knew was that he didn't want Dani to worry.
"Pedro?!" he heard Dani's frantic voice. He imagined him clinging to the phone, his knuckles white from worry. Like he always did when he was scared. "Pedro! Please, baby, tell me you're okay! And where the hell are you?!"
"He's okay, Dani. Don't worry about him.” Jorge said quickly. “He’s save and sound and having a very guilty look on his face as we speak but he's alright. He went to visit me in the hospital."
There was a pause at the other end.
Jorge wasn’t sure if it was because of what Dani had been told or because of who had told him.
He could imagine he was the last person his ex expected to talk to.
He was mentally prepared for any reaction. Yelling. Cursing. Him hanging him. Being told to hand the phone to Pedro. But instead he whispered "Jorge”.
His voice stopped for a moment. So did he. Dani froze on the spot and for a small moment his fear was wiped away.
"Hey" The current rider replied gently.
"You're... You're alive." was all he managed to say.
He hadn't watched the practice, but he had seen it through social media. It had scared him. A lot.
He had spend the time debating whether or not he should reach out. He really wanted to but apparently Pedro had made that decision for him.
"Of course I am." Jorge continued. His voice remained soft and gentle. And so alive.
Dani closed his eyes, pretending things hadn't played out the way they had.
"I'm sorry I scared you... I... I'm sorry for a lot of things." he quickly added. It felt like the one chance he had to say it.
He had tried it before but Dani had simply told him to leave him alone.
Dani let out a sharp breath as he realized what Jorge was refearing to. He felzt his heart clench but he no longer felt the pain of what happened. He no longer felt betrayed. He didn’t felt hurt. He knew he had moved on from what Jorge had done… But he hadn’t moved on from Jorge. He never could.
"I... No. Not- Not now. We are not having this conversation on the phone.” He stated. He had to look at Jorge’s eyes. He had to see him. He had to look at him and know he was still the one he wanted. “Just - for now. Are you okay?" he asked.
"Could be better. Hearing your voice makes it better." "Sappy idiots." Pedro muttered.
"Was that Pedro?" Dani asked. "Yeah, he's here with me, currently sitting next to the bed, rolling his eyes at me. Don't worry about him, okay? He's perfectly fine. And he's gonna do his homework... Yes he will. Pedro, yes you will. You bolted from school, least you can do is your homework... Don't roll your eyes at me!"
Dani laughed, listening to Jorge and his son's bickering. He was clutching the phone, knowing how much he had missed that.
"I.... I can be there in an hour." he offered. He felt stupid for asking. Stupid for considering it. "If - Only if you want me there of course." “Yes. Please.” He said as quickly as he couldn’t. He didn’t care that he sounded desperate. He was desperate. "There's nothing I'd want more"
"Okay... OH and tell Pedro, he's in very big trouble. Both of you are." he added before he hung up.
Jorge smiled. A soft laugh escaped him.
He knew that sentence. Dani telling him he was on trouble after a crash. It was the older way of showing he cared.
He remembered Dani looking pissed, angry at him for getting hurt, for being reckless, for ending up in the hospital. He remembered his care. His gentle words that followed his furious hiss of "Don't ever do that to me again. I care too much about you for you to do that again. I love you too much for you to get hurt."
There was something comforting about knowing he was in trouble. He now knew that Dani still cared about him. Dani still loved him enough to be angry at him for putting himself in the hospital. Again.
Jorge smiled as he lowered his phone "He’s on his way"
Pedro nodded.
"You know, he..." he started slowly, in his mind the past months replayed. And that night. He remembered hearing them yelling and cursing. And then the front door falling shut.
He had opened his window and listened to the night. There was a car driving away. One that had been parked in the driveway. Jorge's car.
He had slowly gone downstairs, finding his papa crying. Dani had stopped when he noticed his son. Well, he had tried to, forcing his chest to stop moving while deep shudders kept tearing at him.
Pedro had simply rushed to hug his papa. He hadn't know what to do or say. He didn't know what had happened, he didn’t know what had been said in another one of the fights they had when they thought Pedro wouldn’t hear. He didn’t know yet that his father had left and wouldn’t return him so he simply muttered a helpless "He looks weird with that beard anyway"
And now he was back. In a way. He looked at him. He still looked the same. Yet Pedro didn't manage to look at him the same. Not yet.
Maybe Jorge noticed it. Maybe he had wanted to say it the whole time but eventually he continued.
“He should be angry at you. But I don’t think he is… But I am. I’m still angry for what you did to papa.” He stated clearly. “And for how you left him. And me. I am angry that you left us.”
Jorge’s eyes went wide. The gut punch of a statement landed hard, yet there was nothing he could do to fix it.
"Pedro, I... I'm sorry.” He tried. “I can't imagine that these past month have been easy, but-" "No. No, you can't imagine." he interrupted him. He looked straight at him.
"You have no idea what's it like to watch your father's heart break every god damn day, with every fucking memory you made him relieve that was taunted with pain.”
“He deserved the biggest good bye. He deserved the biggest retirement party. And you took that from him. You destroyed that, you selfish asshole. We drove home because he couldn’t stand the paddock - where he had been for longer than I am alive - anymore and we had cheesy pasta and a bucket of ice cream and I'm telling you this because you have no idea about that because you weren't there. You were not there! He was alone! We were alone!”
His voice had gone louder with every word. Tears clouded his eyes as anger washed over his expression. Jorge didn’t say anything, not yet. He just looked at the boy, needed him to get everything out of his system.
"And – And I hope that you were even more miserable than he was. Because he was doing horrible. Okay?! You hurt him. You took his trust and broke it. You understand that, right?! Or do you care so little about him? He trusted you to never go behind his back, to never lie to you!”
That was always how he had seen them. He knew them being gentle and loving. He knew them as partner who’d always have each other’s back. Of course there were minor things. They called each other out. They didn’t tolerate one letting out their stress at the other.
But at the end of the day, they’d always make up.
He remembered thousand times when his papa had been embraced from behind by Jorge. He remembered seeing Jorge’s face placed gently on his papa’s shoulder, watching what he was doing whispering things in his ears Pedro didn’t catch.
He remembered his papa’s smile, his giggling. The slightly more red his cheeks turned.
That was how he knew their love. He knew how they flirted, how hard his papa must have fallen for the other that he was actually grinning at the sometimes very horrible pick up lines.
Maybe that was why it hurt Pedro even more to see how hard his father had been affected by their break up, because he knew that Dani had loved Jorge with his all. And Pedro had thought Jorge loved Dani just as much, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that, considering how he had treated Dani, how easily he had walked away.
“But you did betray him! You did hurt him! He never cared that you ride with Honda, but you looked him in the eyes and lied to him. Multiple times. Countless times. He trusted you and you used it to take his seat and ended his career! And you promised me you wouldn't ever hurt him! You have sworn to me that you'd do anything to keep him happy and that you'd never porpusely hurt him!"
He had to say it.
He had to look at Jorge and tell him that he broke the promise he made when Pedro had only been 8 years old.
He had looked at an 8 year old, wanting to protect his papa, still vaguely remembering his papa’s cursing against the other Spaniard when Dani had been nothing more than a young man himself and he had promised the boy to always love his papa. To never hurt him. To do anything for him.
And now he looked at the 15 year old who suffered the betrayal.
Jorge's face fell. He remembered that promise. How could he not?
"Pedro, I... I'm sorry. I really, really am. I never meant to hurt him or-" "And I don't give a fuck. Your words mean nothing. You used your words to promise all that once before and you broke that promise. So if my papa ever gives you a chance again, by God, I will kill you if you screw this up AGAIN."
He meant it. And Jorge knew it.
"Pedro-" he tried to explain himself one last time. "I don't care. I-" "I love Dani. I have loved him for longer than you have been alive. I loved him when he actively hated me – when we were teens and even now.”
"And you still didn't had the balls to face him. Not when you signed with Honda and not afterwards. You didn't even went to him. You didn't even try to reach out, did you? You could have fixed all this months ago – You could have fixed that literally weeks after you left if you had just grown the balls to talk to him!"
"It's... It's not that easy, Pedro. I wish it was, but- Dani wouldn’t have wanted to see me. He can’t stand me anymore and I understand that. I won’t-" he explained.
"Bullshit. You think he - my overprotective papa - would let me just hang around in your hospital room while he comes here when he damn well knows there's a bus from here home if he doesn't trust you? Are you that dense? Did you hit your head too many times?"
“That’s different.” “How?! He literally asked to come here!” he said, sounding almost begging. He had forgotten for what he was arguing. He wanted Jorge to be aware of the pain he caused, the pain he created by walking away. He had wanted to know if it had been worth it.
And now he was arguing for him to come back. To at least try.
It sounded contradicting. Illogical. Yet it was the only thing, feeling right to the boy. He wanted him to know he messed up. But he wanted his family back.
"Pedro, I... I don't think Dani will ever-" "No. No, you idiot. Don't you understand that you not having the guts to talk got all of us here in the first place! You took papa’s decision of retirement from him and your solution is to not even give him the chance of might wanting you back?”
Jorge couldn’t argue with that. He knew Pedro was right. And he wanted to try. There was nothing he wanted more. He wished he could undo it. He wished he could turn back time and stop himself from making that decision.
“I’ll talk to him about it.” Jorge settled. Pedro had a satisfied grin on his face as he nodded. He took it as a win.
They continued talking. Jorge asked about Pedro and his life during the month they hadn’t talked. He told him about school, racing, his friends, Fermin and how different it felt to have Dani home with him instead of being focused on his own racing.
They didn’t notice how much time had passed until a knock made both flinch.
They shared a look. Both realizing that this could be just someone working here – or Dani.
It was the older Spaniard.
Dani entered a few seconds later. His expression was unreadable as he took in the situation. Jorge was half siting in the hospital bed. Pedro sat on the end of the bed, both looking at him like they were caught doing something forbidden.
Dani’s eyes twitched from Jorge to Pedro, back to Jorge.
"Hey" Joreg whispered. Dani opened his mouth but didn't say anything. He just stared at the other.
"Hi" he answered, swallowing hard. He couldn’t help but stare at the younger man. The evidence of his crash were visible, a horrifying white bandaged and a few angry red bruises. "I just... Fuck, you look.... Horrible."
Pedro had to hold in a laugh while watching his papa step closer, his eyes still fixed on the motogo rider. "Did... How bad is it?" he stood right next to his bedside, his fingers carefully reaching for Jorge's hand that was placed at his side, ghosting over the skin on his hand.
They could feel each other's warmth. Pedro rolled his eyes.
He had the urge to lean in and smash their hands together, to make them touch just like the Spanish king had done years ago. Afterall it had eventually worked the first time. But he decided against it. It had to be them. As much as he wanted to – he couldn’t force it.
"Not as bad as it looks." Jorge reassured him, his voice soft and gentle, like always when he talked to Dani. "My back is just slightly broken but nothing close to being paralyzed, so that's a win." "Yeah. Yeah, that is a win. I... I heard it was a horrible crash and looking at you now... It..." he stopped mid-sentence, letting his voice trail off.
"I look that bad, he?" Jorge muttered with a playful tone. He tried to lighten the mood. He tried to get a smile out of Dani. Just one more. Just for him.
"Even worst" Dani replied with a chuckle. A sad smile crossed his face.
Pedro rolled his eyes. It wasn't much but they were doing better than before. At least they weren’t fighting or Dani immediately left.
"But... You... You're going to be okay, right? I mean..." Dani asked carefully. He wanted to ask every detail. Ever medication. Every procedure. Everything. He wanted to fuzz over him. He wanted to worry for him. He wanted to do it all, yet he wasn't sure he was allowed to.
"Yeah." he replied. "Of course I'll be okay. Just... Gonna take a while. You know how it is..." "Of course. Yeah. Just... Promise me-" he whispered but he didn't finish the sentence. It was no longer his place.
Jorge noticed the hesitation. He felt Dani slipping away. He was so close, yet he was running through his fingers like it was impossible to hold onto him.
In a reflex, Jorge reached for him. He grabbed his hand, holding onto him with all he had. He grabbed his fingers, clutching them as tight as the pain allowed him.
"No, it's okay, tell me." He urged him "Promise me you'll take care of yourself, okay? I hate to see you in pain like-" “Oh my god, just kiss him already!” Pedro said loudly.
Jorge stared at him with a started expression.
He had been so close and Pedro decided to nuke it.
Dani’s head snapped back at the statement.
He stared at his son. The moment ruined.
“You should be very silent, young man.” He warned, his hand no longer in the comforting grip of Jorge. "Trust me, our conversation about this will also happen. Don’t worry I am very pissed at you, Mr. Pedro Acosta Pedrosa, and I swar to you, if you if I get one more call that you bolted from the fucking school, no one knowing where you went and I even called Fermin -! I swear if you do that one more time and then have the audacity not to answer your phone, I'll-"
"OH my god, Papa, he is literally right there making love eyes at you and you scold me?!” Pedro said annoyed. He was done, watching them both be miserable and act like the other didn’t care. He was done with them acting like strangers, when both wanted their life back. “Fine, take my phone or bike or whatever but my god, can both you cut the crap and finally get to the point?"
He stood up and stared at Jorge. "Dad, you are miserable at Honda. The bike is shit, you're having an incredible horrible season while the bike is dangerous and obviously actively trying to kill you. You constantly crash and already got seriously injured. Hench why we're at a hospital. Like papa predicted!”
Then he turned to Dani. He was slightly more scared of his reaction to this but he had to say it. And maybe – just maybe – he’d be a bit more forgiving if his plan works.
“And you - papa. You are much more happy in retirement. I don't think I ever saw you that relax and your body stopped hurting. You're no longer in pain, don't act like it's not true. You've reduced your physical therapy from daily to once a week. Isn't all that prove enough that it was your time to retire, wheter you liked it or not? Like dad said.”
It were exactly the points they had talked – and screamed – about.
Dani not seeing the need to retire. Jorge who knew he had to. Dani who knew Honda would sooner or later kill someone or at least take one of their limps – maybe an arm or a shoulder injury that would never really heal. Now it had almost paralyzed Jorge.
Pedro didn’t address the underlying issue. The broken trust. The betrayal. The taken away of a chance.
Those were theirs to figure out.
But Pedro had only needed one look at his parents, to know that all these had melted away. They were still in love. He saw it in Jorge’s eyes lighten up, the way his shoulder tensed a bit when he had seen Dani. He saw it in the gentle, almost invisible smile Dani carried and in the way he immediately tried to find physical contact.
Pedro was sure they’d figure the rest out. So he gave them the nudge in the right direction. At least he hoped so.
“So congrats, you were both right and the other was wrong. Good job!” he clapped once as he jumped off the hospital bed, looking from one to the other.
“Both of you made mistakes in judgement. And both of you are miserable without the other because of it... Discuss that!" he yelled and turned around. He quickly headed to the door, not sure if his papa was above throwing a pillow against his head. "I'm gonna go check out the cafeteria ice cream!"
He quickly slipped out, leaving the two Spaniard to deal with themselves and Pedro’s statement.
The air felt heavy around them.
Dani closed his eyes, pinching the bridge between his eyes as he let out a long sigh. “I love my son. I love my son. I love my son.” He whispered in a long voice, reminding himself that he loved Pedro despite and with all his idiotic ideas.
Jorge just looked at the older man. He watched his grey hair, his wrinkles caused by years of smiling and laughing. He had gotten slightly more tan, barely noticeable for anyone that didn’t spend years memorizing Dani. He looked him straight in his deep brown eyes.
As soon as the other looked back at him, he tried "Do I get sympathy points for being in the hospital?" "No because I told you, you'd end up here." Dani stated. He reached out, gently redirecting the younger one’s short hair out his face.
The Mallorcan enjoyed the touch, the feeling. The short moment of closeness. "And I told you, you were miserable as a Honda rider." He reminded him. "Like I told you, you'd be miserable as a Honda rider?" The Sabadell native shot back.
Both knew the other was right. Both knew there was no other way to say. Both knew there was no way around this and both knew they no longer cared. Jorge let out a sigh - tired and defeated - as his eyes focused gently on Dani.
"Yeah... Dani, I... I don't want to start with this again. I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I – I just – I miss you. Fuck, I miss you so fucking much. I couldn't think of anything else but you in the last months. I... I miss you. And I miss Pedro.”
He remembered looking at the calender, knowing Pedro had an event on that day. A race he would have attended, but instead he wasn’t there. Instead only dani was there, cheering for the young shark.
He remembered seeing the posts for Dani’s birthday. Normally he’d collect them all and show them to Dani until he was blushing and embarrassed how many people congratulated him.
There were a lot of moment he had missed them, in his every day life, when he struggled to cook for only one person again and not 3 or when he grabbed Pedro’s favorite snack in the supermarket before remembering there was no on at home eating them.
He missed them in dark moment, when he was getting drunk in the darkness and he missed them even more when he pretended he didn’t.
“I made the worst mistake of my life, leaving you. I thought... I thought you hate me and... I didn't want to be the reason you hate coming home. I didn't want Pedro to live in a house like that. I-" he hesitated, trying to find words that matched his thoughts. It wasn’t an excuse. Just an explanation, so Dani knew why he had left.
"I thought staying - or well trying to fix this - would end up hurting you and Pedro more than - than leaving. I didn’t want that. Please, I just…. I’m so sorry."
At first, Dani didn't say anything.
His expression was unreadable.
He just looked at tbe other, his lips moving to the side like he was thinking.
Jorge wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign. He didn't know if silence was a relief or a reason to worry.
But he hadn't yet left. He hadn't turn his back on him. So he dared to not yet count this as a lost battle. Not yet.
Then he felt a hand on his face. Dani. He had reaches for him, the same way Jorge loved to hold Dani. He placed one hand on his cheek, gently, caressing his skin. His fingers were slightly placed on his neck, proving a tight grip, a sense of security and warmth, he often lacked.
"Can we just agree to not assume what the other should or should not do?" he asked gently, forcing him to look in his eyes "And no more lies? Please? That's the only thing I want. No more... Don't assume you know what's best for me or Pedro without talking to me. And don't lie."
"I won't. I won't ever lie to you again. I swear. And I'll never - I'll never assume. I promise you-" "Good. That's all I care about for now.” He decided.
He was tired of being angry. He was tired of feeling betrayed when all he wanted was to have Jorge back. He wasn’t one to forgive easily, but he wasn’t one to hold a grudge either.
So when he looked at Jorge, heard his voice break as he apologizes, he knew he no longer cared. He knew Jorge was more important. He had moved on from what happend. He knew Jorge regretted it. He knew he hadn’t mean to.
And he still loved him.
So he just smiled at him gently.
“Do you still love me?” he asked.
Jorge’s eyes went wide. “Of course, I do.” He replied without a second of hesitation. His mouth hung open and his eye brows were pulled together. He looked confused, almost shoked at the question.
“Even when I have a temper and don’t accept what’s good for me? Even when I’m angry at you for forcing me to take care of myself?” He knew he wasn’t innocent in this whole this either.
“What – Dani, I love you more than anything. Always have, always will.” He reinstated.
Dani grinned, a small – happy and calming – laugh escaping his lips.
“And I love you too.” Dani reassured him.
He leaned in and kissed him gently.
Their lips met and Jorge felt no pain for a moment. All he felt were warm lips on his. He felt the other’s heat radiating from his skin. He clutched onto his shirt, desperately trying to pull him closer.
He felt his lips on his, gently, full of love. It was the first time in month but it felt even sweeter than their first kiss. It felt better. Truer. He clutched onto him, letting out a small whine when Dani pulled back again.
It was a clear enough sign for the older to mutter "OH fuck it." Dani knew he'd regret it, if he didn't do it, knowing Jorge needed it. "Scoop over."
He didn't wait for the younger to react and tossed his shoes to the side as he crawled over Jorge - making sure not to touch him yet, scared to accidentally hurt him - to lay down next to the younger one.
He reached for him, his arms wrapping around him. He felt the younger lean into him, a shaky breath leaving his chest.
Jorge felt like he had been holding that breath for a year.
He pushed himself back against the older, desperate to chase this feeling. To keep Dani exactly there so he could cuddle against him forever.
"Dani" he whimpered, pain taking over his voice.
"I'm here. I am right here and I'm not letting you go again." "Promise?" he asked, knowing it wasn’t fair. He knew they’d have more serious conversations. He knew they had to talk about everything properly.
But Dani just pressed a kiss to his head and kept his voice low and even. "I swear to you.” He hold onto him, slowly taking in his smell.
He had to admit to himself how much he missed this. He had missed having Jorge around, being able to kiss him and be hugged. He missed having him all over him and he missed watching him interact with Pedro. He just missed him.
But now he was back in his arms again.
“I'm so sorry for letting you go. I never should have let you walk out. I should have dragged you back home... I... I understand why you left. I do. I really do and I... I can't say I didn't had thought the same. So I'm sorry I couldn't deal with what happened." He said.
He had to say it. He had to make sure that Jorge knew that this wasn’t only on him. And he’d take accountability.
Jorge however, didn’t care. All he cared about was that he had his love back. So he jus smiled.
Dani smiled softly back. "You're coming home with me, you know that, right?" he whispered, not leaving any room for discussion. "I'm not letting you go again. Never again. So you're coming back home. I'll take care of you and Pedro... It'll be good for him to have you back around. He missed you. A lot. We both did."
"I missed you two too. So much." “I know… We’ll figure this out.” He promised. “Mmmm… I do think Pedro hates me. Again."
"No, he doesn't. He just needs to know that everything will be back to normal" "And... It will be?" "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure it will be.... Or won't it?" "NO - Yes - I mean, it will be. I really want it to."
"Good... Just... Give him time, yeah?” Dani asked. “You know how he is, he'd never admit it, but he was - or is - pretty shaken by what happened." He knew his son had been hurt by Jorge leaving in the middle of the night. It was a different feeling of abandonment, that he hadn’t forgiven him yet.
"I can't blame him.... I remember when he was... When he was a kid and we just started dating, he hated me. He'd always make comments when we had our differences. He always threatened me... He once even yelled at me when I got YOU the wrong flowers as an apology."
Dani chuckled. "OH, I remember that. He later told me all about it and cursed you... Called you an inconsiderate idiot.... Among other things I had to scold him for... Did you two talked? Did he call you things when I wasn't here?" he asked, only now realizing that his son and Jorge would have had roughly an hour of time to talk.
He recalled seeing Pedro sitting on the bed, like he belonged there, like he had always been there. Like nothing had ever changed. So he assumed it went half way civil.
"We.... Had a talk. Well, he did most of the talking. He needed that, I think." Jorge admitted.
"Okay but if he was overstepping-" "Dani, I've known him since he was 7. I can handle him. I can tell when he's overstepping"
Dani made an approving sound. He reached for Jorge’s hand, gently picking it up. His fingers were ghosting over the skin of his left hand. He touched the butchered ring finger, caressing the upper part.
It was one of their many routines.
Slow and quiet reassurance. Both enjoyed feeling the others scars.
They were all cruel reminders of the danger they faced and proves that they had survived and return to the other.
Dani just let out a shaky breath. He was about to comment, to mutter how much he had missed this, when the door was opened and shy brown eyes pried into the room.
Pedro.
He looked hesitant but an undeniable smile spread over his face as he saw his two dads like he had always remembered them - cuddled up.
It felt like coming home, like the times he had heard them arguing at night, just to find them cuddled up in bed or the couch the next morning.
It felt right. Like the only way how this could have ended.
"Finally." he chuckled. "Took you two idiots long enough. And for the record I can't keep meddling your bullshit."
"Fuck off" Jorge said as Dani said a scolding "Pedro-“ before turning to the other rider. “Jorge-! BOTH OF YOU!" he shock his head while Pedro and Jorge shared a look just to burst out laughing.
Pedro quickly made his way over to them and let himself fall down on top of Jorge, making the other wrinch in pain. “back!” he muttered while Dani quickly pulled their boy off of him.
“Sorry” he muttered, visible guilt in his face. “It’s okay.” He stated quickly. “I deserved that.”
Pedro settled next to Jorge who leaned down and gave the kid a gentle kiss on the head. "I missed you kiddo." he mumbled, wanting to reassure Pedro that he was just as loved.
He grinned big and his eyes darted to Dani for a moment. "And I miss not having him hoover over me 24/7. It’s your turn for that again!”
Jorge felt a warmth in his chest at that thought. He’d do anything to have Dani hover and care for him.
“And I miss my peace and quiet.” Dani added, mentally exhausted from the crash, Pedro ditching school and his actions. “You two are the reason I’m going grey.”
“And we love you too.” Said Pedro and Jorge at the same time.
And suddenly… Their little family was back. It wasn’t perfect, but they were working on it.
Friendly reminder to all the readers out there- please don’t ever hesitate to comment when you reread a fic. Even if you just say, “rereading this and enjoying it again!” It’s an amazing thing to know that someone enjoyed your work enough to come back again, and it’s honestly an even bigger compliment than a first time review.
And in case this is a concern, don’t ever feel embarrassed that we think it’s weird to hear from someone multiple times on a fic! I promise we do not ever think that!! 🥰🙏🏻
for magical hijinks, bodyswap but its lily and magui who gets swapped
magical hijinks prompt game
I continue to kiss your brain every single time you tell me some insane shit. The conversations we’ve had around this prompt are truly insane and unhinged and I wouldn’t have it any other way <33 This WILL be a full fic at some point so if you’re interested keep an eye out. It would explore more of the magui/oscar implications and also the lily/magui ones because I love this!! But for now this will be a prompt fill . I hope you enjoy it !
Landolily | Body-swap | ~0.9 k
When Lily wakes up, it’s to the feeling of soft kisses being peppered along her torso — down between the valley of her breasts, over her navel, and along the waistband of her underwear. Deft thumbs hook into the thin straps over her hips, gently pulling them down while Oscar presses kisses down her legs.
Slowly, she lets her eyes open, blinking awake into the dark room. She can’t help but furrow her brows, almost certain they left the curtains half open when they went to bed last night given how much Lily likes waking up to the sun soaking her.
Under the sheets, Oscar bites into her thigh, lapping at it immediately after he does. Fuck, as good as it feels that definitelyisn’t right. Oscar’s not a biter for starters, he’s always been so gentle with her. A little too gentle sometimes. And even if by some miracle he decided to start indulging her unspoken fantasies now, the teeth are all wrong. The sharpest points of his bite feels too far apart, almost as if it were his canines digging in the most and not the two right in front.
Her thoughts are cut off when Weird-Oscar presses a kiss to her entrance, the tip of his nose pushing against the hood of her clit. He nuzzles into her, breathing her in as he presses kisses along the outer edge of her lips.
“Mhm,” Lily moans, arching into the touch, her fingers latching into his… curls? That’s not right. Lily frowns, dragging her nails through his hair experimentally. His hair feels messy, loose ringlets that have tussled out during his sleep.
Before she can say anything more, Almost-Certainly-Not-Her-Oscar is pushing into her, the tip of his tongue lapping at her entrance, lips latching onto her labia.
“Fuck,” she moans, fingers tugging against his hair, pushing him further into her. He goes willingly, shifting under the sheets to hold onto her hips. His hands feel bigger than they should as well, thumbs meeting each other just short of her navel. Fuck, yeah this is definitely not her Oscar.
She’s heard about this before. People temporarily switching with different versions of themselves across realities, swapping bodies with someone else, a whole assortment of bizarre things that can happen when a little bit of magic is involved. The general consensus is it doesn’t really count if you do something with another version of your partner.
Assuming it is your partner, of course.
It’s hard for her to dwell on the ethical implications of whatever is going on while kisses are being pressed against her core, her mind melting more with each one.
The man — who she hopes is another version of Oscar — brings one hand down, slowly pushing the tip of his finger into her cunt. His tongue latches onto her clit, tip circling it with practiced precision all while his finger continues to work into her. It goes in easier than it should, the usual tension she experiences seemingly nonexistent here.
Lily can’t help the string of moans and curses she lets out, fingers tensing at the feeling, hips bucking up to meet his lips.
This Oscar seems to capitalise on simplicity. His lips sucking against her gently while his fingers curl to find the soft spot within her that has her seeing stars in seconds
She lets herself revel in it — the feeling of his hair tickling her over-sensitive thighs, the way his other thumb presses right underneath her navel, the feeling of his shoulders holding her apart every time she tries to close them.
Fuck, he’s really, really good at this.
It doesn’t take long for warmth to start coiling behind her navel. The build up steady yet entirely unexpected.
Seemingly sensing her nearing the edge, he hums against her, tongue suckling her with a steady fervour, fingers curlings with precision.
Lily’s jaw drops with a strangled moan, tipping over the edge before she can do anything to stop it. She feels her eyes squeeze shut, the back of her eyelids painted white hot as pleasure courses through her.
He continues to suck on her clit, gently easing as he helps her ride out her orgasm, fingers slowing before stilling entirely.
Eventually, after what feels like hours, Lily begins to whine in overstimulation, pulling her hips away from the feeling.
Beneath the sheets, Alternative-Universe-Oscar chuckles to himself, pressing a final kiss against her before pulling back, easing his fingers out gently, wiping against the sheets.
Her fingers release their clutch against his hair, falling against the sheets uselessly while she takes a deep steadying breath. Her mouth feels dry, her head pounding, and her cunt aching in the best way possible.
“Jesus Mags, nearly fuckin’ ripped my hair out,” he chuckles beneath her, pushing the covers up and over his head.
Lily frowns, eyes shooting open. Pushing onto her elbows, she looks down at Lando emerging from beneath the sheets, dopy smile plastered against his wet lips as he grins up at her all 32 teeth on display.
Hi bby <3 short piastrell drabble for you <3 (short because its so hot and i literally cant think)
It happened the first time shortly after Oscar and Lily broke up. Weird dreams that felt almost real. Not that this was something Oscar never had before; more so, it was the topic of the dreams that confused him. Lando. Almost 90 per cent of them were about Lando. Never something sexual or whatever (would have been even more concerning, to be honest), but Lando dying. In different forms. Mostly on track. And sometimes, it was Oscar's own death that haunted his dreams. The worst ones were those where he and Lando died. Often, in a crash, one of them was at fault. But the end was always the same. Deep pain and grief, settling behind his chest and his pillow wet from tears.
Over time, Oscar got used to it. After Hungary, he often dreamed of his own podium; the dream sequence weirdly zoomed in on champagne dripping down his neck or his hands. But again, he didn't give that scenario more meaning than necessary - in his opinion. Even not when he woke up, so hard it hurt, and his hips pressed against the mattress in a sloppy rhythm until he came all over his mattress. Maybe it was normal. To be so bothered about his first win in Formula One that it made Oscar hard, the thought alone, the memory of how he felt with everything.
And the dreams never stopped. In fact, it became more, more frequent. Especially after they won the constructors, more than once Oscar woke up with a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jealousy. Something he didn't understand. Because in every dream it was him and Lando. Arms wrapped around each other, lifting big bottles of champagne to celebrate. To celebrate the win that they brought home together. No space for jealousy, right? Sure, his race didn't end the way Oscar wanted. But after all? It was a fulfilling season and a deserved party at the end of it.
When he started winning in the first half of 2025, the dreams became more vivid. Wet bedsheets, sweat and come, and an ache, deeply settled into his bones. More and more, his dreams felt like they weren't his. Almost like he dreamed someone else's dreams. Until he dreamed about Spain. It was him again. Bend over the armrest of the small couch in his driver's room. Racing suit and fireproofs pooled at his feet. And the strangest thing? He was looking down on himself. Hands that didn't belong to him, but that belonged in that dream, grabbing his hips. A dick that wasn't his pushing into him again and again. Whispered words he couldn't quite understand.
That was when Oscar started to ask. Asked Charles, Artturi, even Alonso. But nobody had a clear answer for him. Some people mumbled stuff about soulmates, others about a curse. But nothing seemed right. Oscar would know if he had met his soulmate, right? He should know. He was always attentive to the world around him. So it had to be a curse, surely. There was no other explanation. But no one had an explanation or a solution for him. So Oscar learned to live with this dream. Learned to wake up with the mixed feeling. Jealousy, desire, pain, the hollow feeling of missing something he couldn't name.
Summer break came, and Lando invited him, Max F and a few other people to a yacht. Just enjoying the break, the sun. Fun with friends. He felt closer to Lando than ever before. Never in a romantic way, but still, there was that deep bond, clearly to see for everything else. And Lando .. was Lando. Hugging Oscar, touching him, staying close all the time. More than once, Oscar felt Max's eyes on them. But he judged the situation wrong, so damn wrong. He never thought Max would be jealous because of how Lando acted around him. Oscar thought he was the problem. Putting himself into a place he didn't belong.
Until the dreams started again. Again, him and Lando. But this time it was... more than normal. Lando kissing him. Those big hands grabbing him, Lando looking up at him. Big eyes and wet lips. Lando's plush lips wrapping around his .. That was when Oscar sat up in bed, sleep a far-away thought suddenly. The air in his room thick, shirt sticking to his skin. It was warm, too warm for everything. So he left, took the few stairs upstairs on deck, the cool ocean breeze hitting against his heated skin. On one of the loungers, a figure - Max. Looking up at him with big eyes, question marks painted in his face.
"Can't sleep pal?"
Oscar shook his head, shrugging his shoulders for a second.
"Nah mate, weird dreams for months now and today.."
From the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny movement, Max's whole posture changing. Going from deeply relaxed to tense. The moment Oscar finally understood. Maybe they were right. A soulmate thing.
🔐 charles leclerc/max verstappen, rated e & cntw, 10k, complete
primer: omegaverse (alpha/alpha), consent issues, switching
check tags/author's notes on ao3 for full warnings
Charles usually wears ultra high-necked fireproofs that cover the mating gland entirely but today he bares his freely, scars and all.
He and his team stopped answering questions about it a long time ago but the official line is vague references to a private matter that has nothing to do with racing, worded in such a way that heavily implies the offending journo is a freak or pervert for asking in the first place. Which they are. Not that it stops anyone speculating, or Max from looking, though today of course the latter is the whole point.
