Gabriel Bortoleto/Oliver Bearman: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Protective!Ollie
Rating: General Audiences
Length: ~2.7k
ao3 link
The yellow flags had barely come out before Ollie’s stomach dropped.
He was still defending from Liam when it happened, but he didn’t have to see it to know what had happened, he knew the sound. The hollow thud, the commentators’ tone snapping from excitement to panic, the spray of carbon fibre caught in the replay.
The screens flashed in his mirrors, a spray of dust lingered in sector two, and then the crowd’s noise cracked like thunder through his radio static.
“Yellow flag, yellow flag,” Ronan said in his ear. “Incident behind. Keep it tidy to the line.”
He risked a glance at one of the replay boards as he came down the straight, just enough to catch the blur of green spinning into the barrier, shards of carbon scattering across the runoff.
A Sauber.
For a heartbeat, a selfish one, he hoped it was Hülkenberg. Anyone but—
The roar from the grandstands hit a second later. Brazilian flags waving, voices climbing from shock to panic.
Ollie’s stomach turned cold. “Who is it?” he asked, voice rough in his helmet.
Ronan hesitated just long enough for the world to tilt. “Sauber. Bortoleto.”
Gabi.
Ollie’s hands went slick on the wheel. “Is he—?”
“Just stay on the delta, Ollie.”
“Is he okay?”
“Medical car’s on scene.”
The words didn’t help. He could barely hear them over the pounding in his chest. He finished the lap on instinct alone, every muscle locked.
By the time he rolled into parc fermé, his gloves were trembling. Mechanics were shouting, marshals waving, the whole pit lane a blur of noise. None of it registered.
He unclipped his belts before the car had even fully stopped. Someone yelled his name, Esteban, maybe, or a Haas engineer, but he didn’t look back.
He was already running.
The paddock was chaos. Half the grid was still being herded toward the media pen, but Ollie ducked past, helmet still on, ignoring the questions hurled in his direction. He caught sight of the Sauber garage, the screens off, the crew pale and silent, and kept going.
He found the medical centre by instinct. Same smell everywhere of antiseptic, burnt rubber, adrenaline. A staff member moved to stop him, but he flashed his credentials and blurted, “He’s my— friend. I just need to know he’s alright.” The man hesitated, then nodded toward one of the curtained bays.
Gabi was sitting on the edge of a cot, race suit peeled down to his waist, his fireproof shirt removed, a scrape blooming purple across his collarbone. A doctor was shining a light in his eyes while Gabi muttered something in Portuguese that sounded distinctly ungrateful.
When he saw Ollie, his face split into a lopsided grin. “You look like hell.”
Ollie just stood there, chest heaving. “You— idiot.”
“Nice to see you too.”
A doctor and nurse stood in front of Gabi, talking too fast for him to follow. It was all clipped consonants and rolling syllables, the kind of rapid Portuguese that made Ollie feel like a child in a classroom he’d wandered into by mistake.
He caught a few words, but the rest blurred together. Gabi nodded along, answered quietly, sometimes winced, sometimes smiled. The doctor gestured toward his ribs, then his hands, then murmured something to the nurse that made her write faster. A medic returned to finish taping up Gabi’s knuckles.
Ollie’s pulse was pounding so hard he barely heard the rest.
When the doctor finally turned, offered him a polite, professional nod, and stepped out behind the curtain, the sudden quiet hit like a slap.
“What did he say?” Ollie asked at once. His voice came out sharper than he meant it to.
Gabi looked up, startled, then gave a small, crooked smile. “I’m fine.”
“What did he say, Gabi?”
Gabi sighed, like it was nothing. “No, uh—” he paused, searching for the word. “No concussion. Burns on my hands from the steering column. Bruises from the harness. Bit of muscle strain in my shoulder. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Ollie stared at the gauze wrapping Gabi’s fingers, the faint purple lines already blooming across his collarbone. “Jesus, Gabi—”
“Could’ve been worse,” Gabi said easily. “Could’ve been the wall headfirst.”
Ollie dragged a hand down his face, still shaking. “You can’t joke about that.”
“I’m not,” Gabi said softly. “Just telling the truth.” He tried for a grin again, but it faltered when he caught Ollie’s expression. “Hey,” he said gently. “Look at me. I’m okay.”
Ollie didn’t trust his voice, so he just nodded.
“Good,” Gabi said, leaning back on the cot. “Now you can stop glaring before the nurses think you’re going to fight someone.”
Ollie huffed a quiet, shaky laugh. “Don’t tempt me.”
“See?” Gabi murmured, settling his head against the wall. “That’s better already.” His voice was a little hoarse, but steady.
Ollie looked down at Gabi’s bandaged hands, brow furrowing.
“Steering column snapped when I hit. Tried to catch it. Stupid reflex.”
“Yeah,” Ollie said tightly. “Really stupid.”
“Bruises’ll look worse tomorrow,” the medic added, taping the last of the bandages. “Keep the burns covered, ice the ribs. He’s cleared to leave once vitals are logged.”
Ollie hovered, still half in his race suit, adrenaline vibrating through him. “You sure he’s—”
“He’s fine,” the medic repeated, then ducked out, leaving them alone behind the curtain.
Gabi flexed his fingers, wincing when the bandage pulled. “You can stop staring, you know.”
“Sorry,” Ollie muttered. “Still catching up.”
“Don’t,” Gabi said softly. “I’m alright.”
Ollie sank into the chair beside the cot, elbows on his knees. “You could’ve been—” His voice cracked. “What the fuck happened?”
“Lost the rear,” Gabi said, shrugging like it was nothing. “Car snapped. Happens.”
Ollie dragged a hand down his face. “You scared the life out of me.”
Gabi blinked, a little surprised by the rawness in his tone. “Didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, well. Try harder next time.”
For a moment neither of them spoke. Ollie was still shaking, adrenaline refusing to fade.
“You ran here?” Gabi asked quietly.
Ollie looked up, jaw tight. “Of course I did.”
Gabi’s smile softened. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”
Ollie frowned. “How?”
“Because you keep pretending you don’t care this much.”
That broke something in him. He exhaled sharply and dropped into the chair beside the cot, elbows on his knees. “I hate you,” he said weakly.
Gabi laughed, exhaustion evident. “Yeah. You love me, too.”
Ollie didn’t answer. He just reached out, hand shaking a little, and gripped Gabi’s less-injured one.
For a long moment they just looked at each other, Gabi still pale under the strip lights, Ollie’s hands still shaking faintly. Then Gabi smiled, tired but familiar. “Guess you’re my emergency contact, now.”
Ollie huffed a laugh that came out closer to a sigh. “Yeah. Looks like it.”
Gabi didn’t let go of his hand when they went quiet, and Ollie didn’t want him to.
~~~
The curtain swayed open again a few minutes later, and Ollie tensed, expecting another medic, more bad news. Instead, it was one of the Haas performance engineers crew, Tom, still in his headset, sweat drying at his temples.
“There you are,” Tom said, relief breaking into a grin. “We were about to put a tracker on you.”
Ollie stood up automatically. “Sorry. I just— he crashed, and—”
Tom waved him off. “Relax, mate. We just wanted to make sure you weren’t missing. Stay with your friend; it’s fine. Ronan said you near bit his head off when he tried to call you back.”
“I— yeah.” Ollie scratched the back of his neck. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
Tom chuckled. “Think he already figured it out. Get some water, yeah? And maybe don’t disappear without a radio next time.”
“Right. Yeah.”
Tom gave Gabi a quick nod, that quiet, awkward kind of sympathy people in motorsport reserved for each other, and ducked back out.
Ollie exhaled, sinking back into the chair beside the cot.
“See?” Gabi said lightly. “Even your team knows I’m irresistible.”
Ollie shot him a look. “They know you’re an idiot.”
Gabi grinned, and for a moment it almost felt normal again until the door at the end of the room burst open. It started with a shout in Portuguese, followed by an unmistakable flurry of voices.
Gabi’s mother appeared first, hair pulled back, expression somewhere between fury and relief. His father and brother trailed behind her, his father’s phone in hand, arguing with someone. Then came cousins, friends, a whole storm of concern that filled the space before Ollie could even stand. The nurses tried to contain it, but there was no containing that much family. Everyone was talking at once, hugging him, gesturing, asking questions.
Ollie stepped back, suddenly the only non-Portuguese voice in the room. He caught Gabi’s eye once through the chaos, wide-eyed, trying to reassure everyone that he was fine.
When it got too loud, Ollie reached over and gently took hold of the side of the cot, grounding him without a word. Gabi looked at him for a heartbeat, then nodded, almost imperceptibly, before being swallowed up again by his mother’s fussing.
Ollie stayed there, quiet, a fixed point in the blur.
Eventually the family tide ebbed, the nurses finally coaxing them out toward the waiting area with promises that he’d be discharged soon. The door closed, leaving silence in its wake.
Gabi slumped back against the pillows, exhaling like he’d just run another sprint. “That,” he said, “was almost worse than the crash.”
Ollie smiled faintly. “They love you.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Means I don’t have to,” Ollie said, deadpan.
“Sure, baby.” Gabi winced when he tried to laugh, hand going to his ribs.
Ollie’s expression softened instantly. “You shouldn’t be moving around.”
“Tell that to my mother,” Gabi said, smirking faintly.
“I will,” Ollie replied, matching his tone but watching him too closely for it to be a joke. After a beat, quieter: “You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
Gabi tilted his head. “I’m not. I’m staying with my family while I’m here. They will keep me in one piece.”
“Yeah,” Ollie said, still frowning. “But you need more than crowd control. You need someone to make sure you actually rest, take your meds, ice your ribs properly—”
Gabi’s mouth curved into a grin. “Oh? You volunteering, Doctor Bearman?”
Ollie blinked, caught. “If that’s what it takes to keep you from doing something stupid, then yeah.”
Gabi laughed, soft but genuine, the sound easing some of the tension between them. “Guess I’d better clear some space on the sofa, then.”
Ollie crossed his arms, deadpan. “You’re not sitting upright for eight hours; I’m not letting you.”
“Look at you, already making house rules.”
“Someone has to.”
Gabi’s grin softened into something smaller, warmer. “You’re really not going to let me argue, are you?”
“No chance.”
“Then I guess you’re staying.”
Ollie nodded once. “Yeah. I am.”
~~~
By the time the doctor cleared Gabi, qualifying was already being set up.
“Go,” Gabi said when Ollie started to argue. “If you don’t, Ronan will hunt you down himself.”
“I’ll find you right after,” Ollie said.
Gabi smiled, a little crooked. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Ollie felt the tether between them when he finally climbed back into his own car. The promise warmed him through every lap.
~~~
Naturally, it was Ollie’s best Q1 and Q2 performances of his career. After finally qualifying eighth, he found his phone buzzing with a new message.
gabi
Mum says you’re coming to dinner.
He stared at it, wanting to laugh but finding himself speechless.
By the time he reached the paddock gate, Gabi was waiting in civvies, still moving gingerly, grin too wide for someone who’d wrecked a car that morning.
“You’re serious,” Ollie said.
“Completely,” Gabi replied. “If I show up without you, they’ll think you abandoned me in my time of need.”
“Right, can’t have that.”
~~~
The Bortoleto apartment was a riot of voices and smells, garlic, onions, the unmistakable sweetness of guava paste. Every room was full of cousins and uncles, everyone talking at once.
Gabi’s mother pulled Ollie into a hug before he could even introduce himself. His father clapped him on the shoulder like they’d known each other for years. Someone handed him juice, someone else a plate of food he hadn’t asked for.
“They like you,” Gabi murmured, amused, as they squeezed onto the sofa.
“They like feeding people,” Ollie said, but he was smiling.
Gabi’s older brother, Enzo, dropped onto the arm of the chair. “So you’re the famous Englishman,” he said in perfect English.
“God, what’s he told you?”
“That you’ve never seen half the movies worth seeing.”
Ollie groaned. “Of course he did.”
Enzo laughed. “He said he’s been fixing that. Started with Kill Bill? Cool flick.”
“Wasn’t my idea.”
“Oh, we know,” Enzo said. “He never shuts up about his project.”
Gabi swatted at him. “It’s cultural education.”
“Sure,” Enzo chuckled. “You fit in fine, mate. Eat. Before my mother decides you look hungry.”
~~~
By the time the plates were cleared and the last cousin had drifted out, the apartment had gone quiet again. Gabi was flagging, shoulders stiff, voice softer with fatigue.
His mum fussed one last time with his bandages, kissed the top of his head, and switched to Portuguese that Ollie didn’t need to understand to recognise as “behave yourself.” Then she kissed Ollie’s cheek, thanked him for looking after her son, and left with Gabi’s father to socialize with neighbors they hadn’t seen since moving to Monaco.
When the door shut, Gabi exhaled, smiling faintly. “Told you they’d adopt you.”
Ollie shook his head. “I think they’ve already drawn up the paperwork.”
Gabi grinned, then winced when the motion pulled at his ribs. “Ow.”
“See? That’s why I’m staying.”
“Doctor Bearman on duty.”
“Exactly.”
“Can the doctor give me permission to shower?” Gabi smirked at him. He was moving slower, the bravado drained out of him. He tried to wave off help, but his shoulder gave a sharp pull when he reached for a towel, and Ollie caught his arm before he could protest.
“Sit down,” Ollie said. “Let me.”
Gabi started to argue, then saw the look on his face and didn’t. Ollie handed him a towel and started the water in the bathroom for a hot shower the way he knew Gabi preferred.
The bathroom steamed faintly when Gabi came out, hair damp, the gauze on his hands already coming loose. He changed into loose clothes gingerly, sitting on the sofa while Ollie rummaged through the medical bag the doctor had sent home with him.
“You are a terrible nurse,” Gabi said, voice still hoarse from the crash.
“Lucky for you, I’m not a nurse,” Ollie muttered, tearing open a fresh packet of bandages. “Hold still.”
He worked quietly, wrapping the burns again, checking the knots like he’d seen the medics do. His fingers were steady now that there was something to do. The smell of antiseptic and soap hung between them. When he was done, he wiggled the small tube of cream the doctor had prescribed. “This is for the bruising.”
Gabi tugged the neck of his shirt aside. The skin there was already turning deep violet, a perfect map of how the harness straps had lain across his torso.
Ollie squeezed out a little of the ointment and began to rub it in with careful, circular motions.
Gabi flinched once, then relaxed. “Cold.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” His voice went soft. “You’re good at this.”
Ollie didn’t answer. He just kept going, focusing on the motion, the warmth of skin under his fingertips, the way Gabi’s breathing evened out. When he finished, he capped the tube and stepped back. “There. Good as new.”
Gabi smiled. “You missed your calling.”
“Yeah, well,” Ollie said, smirking back. “Racing pays better.”
“Not by much if you keep worrying about me.”
“Shut up,” Ollie said, but there was no bite in it.
Gabi leaned back against the sofa, looking suddenly smaller, softer in the lamplight. “Thanks, baby.”
Ollie rolled his eyes, grabbed the empty gauze packets, and muttered, “You’re welcome,” before turning away to hide the grin that wouldn’t leave his face. He fetched water, helped Gabi get comfortable on the sofa, and let the noise of the city drift through the windows. For the first time that day, the silence felt easy.
“Pick something,” Ollie said, handing him the remote.
Gabi scrolled lazily through the streaming options, pausing on a familiar title. “Logan Lucky. It’s about idiots with a plan. Feels appropriate.”
“Never seen it,” Ollie admitted.
Gabi grinned. “Then tonight, we educate you.”
He queued it up while Ollie dimmed the lights and settled on the other side of the sofa with exaggerated caution, keeping a careful hand-span of space between them.
“You’re acting like I’m made of glass,” Gabi said.
“You’ve got a ribcage full of bruises.”
“Bruises, not explosives. Come here, you coward.”
Ollie hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t elbow me and we’ll be fine.” Gabi shifted the blanket open with a bandaged hand. “I’m freezing. Stop being dramatic.”
With a quiet sigh that fooled neither of them, Ollie slid closer, careful of Gabi’s shoulder. Gabi immediately tucked the blanket around them both and leaned into Ollie’s chest, one arm wrapped loosely around his middle. “See?” Gabi murmured. “Perfectly safe.”
“Debatable.”
“Shh. Movie.”
They watched in comfortable silence. Every so often Gabi would comment little asides about bad Southern accents or a ridiculous heist detail and Ollie found himself laughing before he could stop it.
He could feel the steady rhythm of Gabi’s breathing beside him, the faint heat radiating where their bodies touched. Each time Gabi shifted, Ollie’s instinct was to check that he wasn’t in pain; each time Gabi caught him looking, he’d roll his eyes fondly.
Halfway through, Ollie realised the tension in his shoulders was gone. He’d been bracing for another scare all day; now the only thing left was warmth.
When the credits finally rolled, Gabi’s eyes were heavy.
Ollie smiled to himself, reached over to turn off the lamp, and let the dark settle. He could feel Gabi’s breath against his shoulder, the faint rise and fall of him. For the first time since the crash, Ollie’s mind was still. Gabi was nearly asleep, mumbling something about Daniel Craig’s accent.
“Come on,” Ollie said softly. “Bed.”
Gabi groaned. “This is bed.”
“Not quite.” He helped him up, steadying him by the arm when Gabi winced. He looped an arm under Gabi’s uninjured side and guided him down the short hall. Gabi leaned more than he needed to, mostly for effect.
“You’re heavy,” Ollie muttered.
“Stop whining,” Gabi said, grinning.
When they reached the bed, Gabi collapsed backward onto it with a groan of relief. Ollie fussed with the pillows, checking that the bandages on his hands hadn’t slipped.
“You are,” Gabi murmured. “If you leave I’ll just get up again, and then you’ll feel guilty. Save us both the trouble.”
Ollie hovered a moment longer, then sighed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “You’re bossy.”
“Yeah,” Gabi said, voice muffled by the pillow. “You like that about me.”
Ollie rolled his eyes, kicked off his trainers, and slid under the blanket. He kept his body carefully turned away, trying not to crowd him, but Gabi shifted anyway until his head found Ollie’s shoulder.
“Comfy,” Gabi murmured.
Ollie exhaled through his nose, more fond than annoyed. “Sure, you wreck one time, and now I’m relegated to being your pillow.”
He hesitated, then let his fingers drift into Gabi’s hair, absently brushing through the damp curls. Gabi made a small, content sound, the kind that loosened something tight in Ollie’s chest.
After a while, Gabi spoke, voice drowsy. “Thanks for staying.”
Ollie’s hand stilled for a beat. “Where else would I go?”
“Hotel,” Gabi mumbled. “Out with the team.”
Ollie smiled into the dark. “Didn’t want to be anywhere else.”
That made Gabi’s breath hitch, just a little. He shifted closer, whispered, “Yeah. Me neither.”
Ollie’s hand found his hair again, steady and slow. “Good,” he said quietly. “Then it’s settled.”
Gabi’s breathing evened out after that, soft and rhythmic. Ollie lay awake a little longer, listening to it, until the sound finally carried him under too.
