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fall0utmind

Feb 15, 2025

Epilogue

Hi guys - it's here

we are done - thank you so much for all the support you have given me - it's invaluable

ao3 here!!

Feedback would be much appreciated - alt ending coming soon

Love you all -

*6 months later*

It’s cold in Italy; it's unseasonably frosty but dry, at least. Marc steadies himself on the driveway, taking some deep breaths from behind the wheel. He refused a lift from the airport, choosing instead a hire car to ensure a quick escape if it’s needed. Now he’s sitting in the car, trying not to have a panic attack.

He stares up at the imposing building in front of him. The ranch house sits proudly at the edge of the property– all brick and wood with big windows which probably spill the light in during summer. It has changed, from ten years ago. Marc doesn’t know why that shocks him. His hands are shaking.

He cannot fathom what he’s doing here, in Tavullia on a random Monday in January. In a few weeks, he’ll be at the Ducati factory, filming and testing as their newest rider. He thinks he might be insane.

Valentino must have heard him pulling in, the loose scattering of gravel crunching under the wheels. Marc can see movement inside; his heart is beating out of his chest.

Things between him and Vale have been better, since Aragon. It has taken a lot of awkward conversation and a couple of fuck ups to even get to this stage. Marc’s slowly been getting used to the boys, whilst keeping Vale far away from his family (who still haven’t come around). They have been tentatively dating, trying to figure out how to fit into each other’s lives without implosion.

Marc has refused anything more than a couple of low-key dates on race weekends and spending time in Vale’s hotel room. Meeting on non-neutral ground feels like a big step, and now Marc is here, back where it all went so wrong the first time, potentially feeding himself to the lions.

He screws his eyes shut and breathes deeply. Alex will be here at the weekend. They will get through it. He steels himself to unflex his fingers from where they grip the steering wheel. His knuckles are white.

The front door to the house creeps open, Valentino emerging from behind. After all of these years, he still makes Marc slightly breathless. It has been a long time since he’s seen Valentino like this, dressed in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, his socked feet without shoes. Marc climbs out of the car, heading around the back to grab his bag before locking the doors and shuffling forward.

Vale stands on the threshold, looking as unsure as Marc feels - his hands reach forward before pulling back. Marc decides for him, wrapping his arms around Valentino and allowing the older man to pull him in and press his lips to the crown of Marc’s head. Marc smiles into his chest. It is good to know that he is not the only one who is nervous.

When they pull apart, Marc tilts his head towards Valentino and finds soft eyes already watching him, startlingly blue in the morning light. Valentino’s lips twitch upwards as he tilts his head down to brush a kiss against Marc’s mouth.

Valentino takes Marc’s bag before he can protest, lugging it down the hall and setting it down in what Marc assumes is Valentino’s room. There is a bike sitting by the footboard, one of Vale’s. Marc’s breath hitches, the rumours were true then. The sheets look fresh, untouched. The sun filters through the large windows located adjacent to the bed. Valentino shows no signs of hesitance in welcoming Marc into his home. It makes Marc’s heart contract, beating double time at the show of familiarity and trust.

The unease slowly slips off Marc’s shoulders like satin as he relaxes into the space. It’s just the two of them for now. It’s nice, there is a settled kind of peace in the air – a contentedness rolling off both of them. Valentino tugs him around the house, giving him a tour. He never got to this point last time, only saw brief flashes of parts of the house back in 2014. He pushes the memory away and smiles as one of Valentino’s dogs trails curiously behind them, occasionally nudging a wet nose into the back of Marc’s knees.

He could settle here, Marc thinks. The thought catches him off guard and makes him do a double-take. He stares at the gentle slope of Valentino’s shoulders underneath his too-large t-shirt. The way he looks so soft and gentle here. Marc doesn’t realise that he’s stopped, even when he feels the soft brush of fur against his calves as the dog pushes past him. Valentino pauses, looking back over his shoulder. His face is relaxed, his eyes adoring, tinged with concern as he notices Marc has paused.

“Marc, Angelo, what’s wrong?” He says, striding back, cupping his face gently. His gaze tracks over Marc's frame, assessing for hurt or pain, his hand grazing over Marc’s arm.

Over the past 3 months, Valentino has relearned Marc’s body. It was difficult, to come to terms with the chronic pain Marc faces daily. Sometimes, Marc would shuffle into his hotel room, late after a race, his arm stiff by his side, looking dazed and in pain. Every time, Valentino would run a bath and painstakingly massage his arm and shoulder until the pain lessened, kissing away the tears which gathered in Marc’s lash line.

It has been difficult for Marc to allow himself to be looked after; he is learning though. Now, he just smiles, small and closed-lip. He kisses Vale, once, twice.

“Nothing, mi amour. I love you.” He whispers.

Valentino answers with a grin and a soft “I love you too”.

It is worth everything to Marc.

Cohabiting with someone you used to hate is odd.

They spend two days in a strange kind of domestic bliss. Their nights are spent wrapped around each other in Vale’s bed, satiated and sleepy. Valentino wakes up every morning to prepare Marc a coffee, just how he likes it, and delivers it with a sweet kiss. In the intervals between cooking or meetings, Valentino wraps his arms around Marc from behind and kisses his forehead softly.

Marc thinks he could get used to domestic bliss.

Valentino whines and complains when Marc asks to use the gym.

(“You’re supposed to be on a break”)

But he sits and watches Marc work out each time without fail, revelling in the way Marc flushes prettily when he catches Vale staring.

(Cardio usually ends up being done in the bedroom).

On Wednesday, Valentino pulls Marc towards the garage to show him the impressive bike selection he keeps. Valentino has spent years (and a lot of money) amassing his collection, including a few of his old MotoGP ones. Marc looks awed, his fingers trailing over handlebars and pausing on the bright ‘46’ of Vale’s 2005 Yamaha. Valentino watches with adoring eyes.

Marc is holding back a million questions, crouching to inspect each machine before moving on to the next. He appears at home among the bikes. Even so, Vale can tell Marc is antsy without one to ride. He desperately wants to appease Marc and show him around the track but also recognises the history here. Marc won't ask to ride, not after last time, and Valentino's pushing won’t go down well.

Valentino pretends to fiddle with a bike, tuning it up a bit, watching as Marc becomes more impatient. He hopes to time it perfectly, waiting until the last minute to ensure the younger man will agree.

“We can ride, if you’d like?” Vale asks quietly.

Marc’s answering grin is wide.

Valentino hurries to pull out the bike he’s been tuning for Marc, unable to contain his excitement. The deep red ‘93’ is already in place.

When he turns back, Marc is half undressed, always so eager. But he has stopped still at the sight of the bike. He inches forward, running his hands across the throttle, a questioning look in his eyes. Valentino laughs uncomfortably, suddenly embarrassed.

“Well, you know- you need it for the weekend. And I was hoping you might need it again a bit more regularly going forward.”

He scratches his neck awkwardly, regretting his decision to be so forward. What if Marc doesn’t want to come back, or it is too much too soon?

Marc nudges against him, drawing Valentino’s attention back to reality. The smaller man pushes onto his tiptoes and presses a kiss to Vale’s lips, effectively wiping out any other thoughts.

“Thank you”, Marc whispers. It’s so painfully honest that it hurts.

Valentino kisses him again.

He brings his hands to Marc’s waist and is momentarily distracted by the bare, warm skin he finds. Of course, Marc is still half undressed. He pulls back to look at Marc shamelessly.

There are miles of tanned skin on display, unblemished other than his arm. Marc’s been somewhere hot over the break, Valentino saw the photos on Instagram. Marc with his friends, shirtless, his built chest and abs on full display as he laughed to the camera, golden sand and the crystal ocean behind him. Valentino is not ashamed to admit that he practically salivated when he saw them. It is no different now, with Marc standing in his garage. He doesn’t think Marc’s beauty will ever get old.

Marc looks amazing like this, slightly dishevelled, glowing with happiness. Valentino wants to keep him here forever.

He kisses Marc firmly one more time and pushes him in the direction of where their leathers are hanging up side by side.

“Come on, let’s ride” He suggests, knowing that if they don’t go now, Vale will become sidetracked. Marc is all too happy to oblige.

It’s a good day to ride - clear and a little cold, but bright. Marc takes a few laps to settle into the track, evidence that it has been a long time since he was last at the ranch. Guilt churns in Vale’s stomach, maybe if he was kinder, less bitter, that would not be the case. The thought is cast aside soon enough as they’re chasing each other around the track, just like old times. The sound of laughter is loud and bright; it can be heard above the familiar two-stroke engines as they roar around the circuit.

The unbridled joy of riding is only slightly dampened by the undercurrent of fear radiating off Marc. Valentino observes the way his shoulders are slightly hunched, how he holds himself back, just a little, pulling the angle of his bike a smidge more upright than usual. Marc is scared he will fuck it up, push too hard, and send them both toppling into anger and misery once more. Valentino wants to put a stop to it.

He can practically see the memories flashing behind Marc’s eyes and he hits each apex. Vale tries to be a comforting presence, to show Marc that he’s safe. But Marc only fully relaxes when Valentino pulls him into a tight embrace after they finish their first quick laps. After that, they’re off, racing wheel to wheel like they were born to do.

Valentino quickly discovers that he no longer cares when Marc edges him across the line, content to kiss him thoroughly when they pull to stop, wiping any residue of worry off the younger man’s face.

Later, Valentino takes Marc back inside, pushing him towards the shower and grinning when Marc tugs him along too.

He has never been one to deny Marc what he wants.

He nudges the younger man into the bathroom, grabbing two of his fluffiest towels from the warmth of the airing cupboard en route.

By the time Valentino has locked the door Marc is already half out of his clothes, a pretty flush spreading from his cheeks down his chest. Valentino trails his eyes up and down Marc’s body, saliva pooling under his tongue.

He gently pushes Marc up against the marble-countered sink, the smallest hint of pressure on his hips. Valentino bends down to reach Marc’s lips, making the younger man push up into his touch.

The kiss isn’t gentle, it’s deep and wanting, yearning for more. Valentino pushes his hands under Marc’s legs as he hops to sit fully on the counter, his fingertips searing the soft skin there. In return, Marc wraps strong thighs around Valentino’s waist, grinding up to seek friction. By the time they pull apart, they are both achingly hard.

Valentino regretfully breaks away, leaving Marc panting on his countertop so he can reach into the lavish shower and turn on the taps.

He knew that the ungodly amount of money he spent on this bathroom would be beneficial one day.

Once steam has filled the room, he pulls Marc to his feet, letting the younger man strip off his underwear before pushing him into the warm spray.

Valentino watches for a moment, wondering how he got so lucky, before he too steps out of his clothes. He brackets himself in behind Marc, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist as water pours over them. Marc leans into his hold.

Valentino chases a water droplet which rolls down Marc’s neck, sucking a mark lightly onto the juncture of his shoulder as his hands trace patterns onto his hip. Marc’s head falls back, his eyes fluttering as he groans quietly.

Valentino keeps going, following the trail of the water, spinning Marc around and pushing him against the wall. He sinks to his knees, fascinated by the way Marc’s eyes screw shut, his face scrunching. Valentino spends a long time laving his tongue across Marc’s abs, admiring Marc’s reactions as he licks across the younger’s hip bones and bites. Valentino could stay here for years.

Marc’s quads tense as Vale sinks his teeth into the delicate flesh, strong muscle bracketing Vale’s head. Marc leans his weight against the wall, slightly boneless as Valentino continues to nibble on the soft skin, sucking until there’s a line of pretty purple bruises from mid-thigh to his groin.

(He couldn’t, his knees already hurt)

It’s one of Vale’s favourite things to do, leaving blemishes on Marc’s tanned skin, like blots of ink on paper. Staining Marc and making him Vale’s own, after so many years. The added bonus is that Marc is always so pliant when Valentino does it. He goes limp and far away, his eyes dazed when they’re not rolling back in his head. He is reduced to a mess of whining and pleading.

Valentino is not immune.

Marc is above him, his legs shaking and whining as Valentino mouths everywhere but his dick, which is hard against his abs. Precum smears across his stomach, washed away by the spray of warm water sluicing over them.

Valentino takes pity on him, slipping one hand around his thigh and putting his mouth where Marc so desperately wants it. He licks a strip up Marc’s dick, revelling in the way his moans shift up a pitch. Marc releases little hitching breaths as he finally, finally, takes Marc all the way, sucking without hesitation.

Marc’s hands are scrabbling for purchase on the tiles. His moans get louder as he loses himself to the feeling. His brain is mush as he slips into another headspace, floating, the only thoughts are more and Vale. He can’t produce any words apart from Valentino’s name which he whines out. Marc brings a hand to his mouth, trying to stop the needy whines from slipping out.

Valentino taps his hip, “No, no. I want to hear you, Bambino”.

Marc groans, long and low, his hips bucking into the warmth of Vale’s mouth. The older man pins his hips against the wall. Marc’s knees damn near give out as Valentino begins to suck in earnest, laving his tongue over Marc’s head and drinking him down to the hilt.

The only sensations Marc registers are the wet heat around him and the finger biting into his hips. The rest of the world is static.

He’s getting close far too quickly, only spurred on when he looks down and sees the older man looking back up his blue eyes steely, almost engulfed by his blown pupils. Marc tries to gulp down the whimper in the back of his throat, his hips bucking of their own accord. Valentino hums around his dicks before pulling off with a wet pop. He smirks up at Marc.

Valentino loves Marc like this, whining, fucked out, and desperate.

He pulls himself to his feet, ignoring the way his knees pop and protest, instead pushing himself against Marc and kissing him soundly. Marc can taste himself, bitter on Vale’s tongue. He groans pitifully.

Valentino breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips across Marc’s jaw, sucking more bruises into Marc’s neck until there is almost no space left unblemished.

(Marc will pretend to be annoyed later, complaining as he secretly examines the bruises in the mirror, a pleased smile on his face.)

Marc pushes on Vale’s head.

“In me? Please?” he whines.

Valentino chuckles, “Later, Carino. We have no lube”

“No, Tesoro. I don’t want to hurt you. We do it like this for now, okay? Come on Gattino, show me how pretty you are.”

“I don’t care, fuck me, please Vale”

Valentino groans, the temptation rising as Marc pleads.

Valentino is quickly learning the best way to get reactions from Marc, to cause the younger man to become dazed and pliant like he is now. He punctuates his request by rolling his hips into Marc, gripping his ass and encouraging him to grind against Vale.

Marc does so readily, rutting them together until he is almost sobbing, squirming under Valentino’s hands. They’re both getting close. Marc makes a glorious sight in his arms, his eye wide and doe-like, his muscles clenching and unclenching as he chases release.

Vale wraps his hand around both of them, gasping at the added friction. He connects their lips again, more panting into each other’s mouths than actually kissing.

“Come on, Bambino, come for me” Valentino whispers, bucking up to chase the pleasure.

In the end, that’s what does it for Marc. He shakes and whines as he comes, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his eyes screwed up. Valentino follows soon after, pushed over the edge by the vision of Marc falling apart.

When he comes back to himself, Valentino gently washes them both, soothing hands against Marc’s body as the younger man drifts. Marc is always quiet afterwards, his head blissfully empty.

Valentino steers Marc out of the shower and deposits him onto the ledge, fetching one of the towels and wrapping it around him, watching the way the younger man curls into warmth. Vale tenderly helps Marc dry, kissing the exposed sections of skin. Once Marc is changed, Valentino focuses on himself, perfunctory, already thinking about what to cook for dinner, considering what Marc likes.

The younger man looks warm and content, wrapped in one of Valentino’s hoodies, too long in the sleeves, clinging more to Marc’s chest and shoulders, where it’s loose on Vale. It settles somewhere inside of Valentino, a place he’s beginning to associate with home.

They were right, back in Aragon, it hasn’t been easy, not by any stretch of the imagination. It took Marc two months to feel secure that Vale wouldn’t just up and leave. Even now there are moments when they both tense, waiting for the other to land a blow. Moments where it threatens to blow up in their face, a bated breath when a sharp-edged comment slips out.

Every time though, one of them stops back, unloads the gun, and lowers their fists. They use words now, communicating in soft-spoken apologies and reassuring touches.

“you’re the one who left last time”

“And I said I’m sorry amore”

“Sorry doesn't fix everything, Vale.”

A soft sigh and a light touch on the back followed.

“I know, I know. A sorry does not even begin to cover half of the things I have done. Yet I am still sorry.”

Marc looks away.

“Marc, please”

A sigh, “It is okay. I am just hurting, not angry, just a fresh wound Vale”

Valentino holds him close until it gets better and doesn’t let go, even after.

The childish avoidance from before is gone; hindsight has shown them that was not a good strategy. They still have their squabbles, occasionally digging too far, but it is better now, less vicious.

Still, Marc has to text his mum twice on the first day, just to confirm that they haven’t killed each other yet. His parents were reluctant for him to come to Italy; they are still wary, unwilling to trust Valentino as easily as Marc does, or is learning to. They cannot resist the occasional jab at the older man, comments designed to stir up guilt; Marc is dreading the day that they all have to be in the same room. Alex is just about coming around, albeit reluctantly. For now, he is content to watch on suspiciously, waiting for even a slight slip-up from Vale. Ultimately though, they just want Marc to be happy, and if that is with Vale, so be it.

As Valentino promised, they have taken every second slowly, catching up on everything they’ve missed. Valentino refused to sleep with him until Marc won in Phillip Island. Even then Marc had begged and begged until Valentino laid him carefully onto the bed in his hotel room and took him apart slowly, carefully. Until Marc was drooling into a pillow, crying.

Afterwards, Valentino wrapped him up in his arms and held him until he came back into his body. He had picked Marc up, and washed him in the shower, taking care to press kisses against any part he could reach. He wrapped Marc in a soft fluffy towel and slept next to him until dawn broke on the following day.

It's odd for them, to take it slow when they are so used to 300kph. But it’s good. Different, but good. Soft and unhurried as they have all the time in the world. They both knew if this was going to work, it had to be different. They couldn’t make the same mistakes as before.

They owed it to themselves to at least try.

So now they spend their days in a sort of bubble; a world which other people aren’t privy to – not yet. In this world, Valentino fucks Marc gently on his bed and kisses him breathlessly in the kitchen. He whispers, ‘I love you,’ against Marc’s lips mid-kiss, his neck when they hug, and his hair as the younger man sleeps in his arms. Valentino has a different version of Marc from the rest of humanity - one who is soft, pliant and sweet. He loves both versions of Marc and all of him, so long as they’re his.

On Thursday, people begin to arrive for the race.

Marc doesn’t know why he agreed to this plan; he has basically treated himself to an undercurrent of sick nerves in his stomach for the whole day, possibly the weekend. His heart beats faster and louder every time he hears a new car pulling into the drive.

Valentino keeps Marc tucked into his side for as long as he can before he is swept up in the duties of being Valentino Rossi. Marc is embarrassed that by 9 am he is still hiding in the house. By the time Luca finds Marc, he’s a mess.

Intuitively, he knows that he’s safe, but a part of him can’t quite let go of the anxiety. His therapist warned him that this may happen, his brain playing tricks on him, convincing him that something bad will happen. She said that it stems from what happened last time, their eventual ruin. Marc hates it.

When they eventually have to leave the safety of the house, Marc keeps his chin up, shutting down any hint of nerves or anxiety. Outwardly, he is the picture of calm indifference, inside he’s a mess. His only reassurance is Luca’s presence and the knowledge that Alex will be here soon.

Marc nods at everyone he passes, ignoring the double takes, and pretends that he knows what he’s doing as he casually loiters at the front of the house for Alex. By the time his brother pulls up, Marc is vibrating out of his skin, only relaxing once Alex has gathered him into his arms.

The plan is to act as though Marc and Alex arrived together, so they enter the foyer together, greeted by an enthusiastic Valentino.

“Marc, Alex. Allora, it is good to see you”

Marc now understands the ungodly number of espressos the older man had this morning. Alex shoots Valentino a sceptical look, bordering on unimpressed. Marc has to disguise his laughter with a cough.

As usual, it is all being filmed; the crew are eager to shove a camera in Marc’s face, their eagle eyes focused on Valentino’s hands trailing Marc’s waist when they stand together. Valentino dutifully points out which bits of merch to sign and where. He is acting more detached than Marc has seen him in a while. It burns, sour and acidic in the back of his throat.

Marc wishes they had talked about this, where they stand and who knows. It didn’t seem important to discuss before now, with too many other things to keep on track of. Marc assumes (hopes) that they can edit anything out as needed.

When the brothers have finished dutifully signing, Valentino signals for the filming to stop, shooing people away. Marc is tugged into a side room. It’s becoming increasingly apparent that Valentino is a bit like a teenager in the way he can’t keep his hands off Marc. He draws the younger man into a kiss, pushing him against the closed door.

Marc groans when he pulls away, changing Valentino’s lips for a second before giving up, his head thunking against the door.

“Oh, come on, my brothers out there” He whines, only pretending to be annoyed at Valentino's constant eagerness. The older man laughs in delight and presses one last kiss to Marc’s lips.

“Sorry Amore, I can’t resist. You just look so beautiful and I do not want you to be nervous, you seem nervous”

“Of course I’m nervous, everyone is staring at me” Marc says flatly

“Ah well, it is probably because your ass looks good”

Before Vale can finish the sentiment, there is a loud knock on the door.

“I can hear you, you know. Please stop”

Valentino smirks, pressing one last kiss to Marc’s cheek before he opens the door and lets them out.

Alex looks mightily unimpressed.

“Now now, baby Marquez, my house, my rules.” Valentino jokes, no heat behind his tone and his eyes dancing with humour. Alex groans.

“Franco is with the boys in the garages, I hear he’s looking forward to seeing you”

The effect is immediate, Alex flushing brightly at Vale’s teasing. It makes Marc cackle. With one last tap low on Marc’s waist, Valentino is gone, back to play the entertainer to his loyal subjects. Marc watches the older man go, before turning toward Alex and dragging him toward the garage.

It is strange, Marc thinks, that only days ago, Marc and Vale were here alone, kissing in peaceful moments between riding, training, cooking, and living. Reacquainting with one another and deciphering how to fit into each other’s lives.

There is no peace now.

Whilst Valentino plays the gratuitous host and welcomes every guest, Marc and Alex are left abandoned amongst a sea of people hungry to know why. Marc holds his head high, portraying a sense of disinterest even as he feels a hundred curious eyes on him.

It’s not exactly a secret that Vale and Marc are back on friendly terms, with Valentino being complementary in interviews and talking to Marc in the paddock. But to see Marc at the ranch will be a shock for many. Many more will be upset.

Marc tries to remember whose stupid idea this was. Entering the biggest event Valentino has ever put on right at the start of their relationship. 10 years of the 100k di campioni. Marc Marquez is in attendance.

The headlines practically write themselves.

To make matters worse, they’ve reshuffled the teams. Marc doesn’t know whose idea it was, whether it was Valentino, one of the boys, or someone else entirely. But Valentino was adamant that they had to race together.

Marc wondered whether it was to prevent any issues when one of them beat the other. Even though they were both fine with that, others might talk.

Either way, the team announcement was delayed until it became public knowledge that Marc was in attendance. It is bound to cause a commotion.

Marc guesses that going from enemies to friendly enough to be teammates (by choice) is quite the leap. The sudden reshuffle means that Pecco pairs with Luca, Franky with Alex, and Cele and Marco are together.

Marco muttered something about it being unfair that one of the teams has 17 world championships – Valentino laughed at the time but Marc thinks Bez was being dead serious. He doubts many other people have considered that yet. It’s only a matter of time before they see the two of them on the track and realise it might be slightly unfair. Oh well.

Marc keeps his head down as he drags Alex toward the garage. He tries to swerve around the people he doesn’t want to see, keeping out of the way of cameras. It’s funny really. He knows that he’ll be in the clips anyway, but if he tries to make himself smaller or irrelevant, maybe people will talk less.

(It’s wishful thinking)

Marc lets out a sigh of relief when they make it to where Pecco is chatting with Bez on the threshold of the building.

Releasing Alex’s arm, he greets the boys fondly, ruffling Bez’s hair and clasping hands with Pecco. He has a moment of panic when he belatedly realises that Alex has never really interacted with the boys. He questions whether they will play nice after everything which has happened; especially due to Alex’s protectiveness.

The worry doesn’t last long; they greet Alex kindly, albeit with a little awkwardness. The tension dissolves when Franky approaches, falling instead into boyish teasing as he wraps an arm over Alex’s shoulder. It feels natural, almost easy. Marc exhales, the tight coil in his stomach loosening slightly. Alex deserves happiness more than anyone he knows; Marc would do anything to keep him content.

The good-natured ribbing continues, but Franky takes it in his stride, simply pressing a kiss to Alex’s cheek and grinning smugly when he flushes. He must be used to it, growing up in this environment with these boys who are almost like family.

Pecco nudges him, subtly so the others don’t notice, content to let them continue to throw childish barbs at one another whilst he accosts Marc.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”, he teases. Marc rolls his eyes, shoving Pecco back lightly.

“Holding down the fort I believe”

Pecco huffs, an amused tilt to his lips.

The boys have taken well to him and Valentino tentatively dating, happily including Marc on race weekends. According to Vale, they have been asking for Marc to train with them at the ranch for months.

Marc feels such a swell of love for his new friends and their acceptance. It is like he has somehow adopted the children Vale has gathered over the years, in an odd way. He knows some of the younger ones admired him when they were growing up, before he and Vale imploded. It has almost come full circle, everything falling so easily into place. If Marc thinks about it, he feels this is a long time coming.

He fits in here - another teacher for the younger ones, someone who understands the pressure of being a champion and being on a bike that doesn’t love you as much as you love it. Someone who knows what it’s like to win, to lose, and to overcome the impossible.

There is a sense of belonging that Marc hasn’t felt in some time.

While the boys mess around, joking and laughing, Marc peaks his head out to look around. Hidden in the alcove of the garage, he scouts the people who are already here. He recognises some familiar faces - riders from the grid, some of the lower leagues, and one or two from different events and classes. It’s quite the lineup.

Marc shelters for as long as he can, unwilling to go out and face the music. He really wishes that he and Valentino had thought of some answers to the inevitable questions before they dived headfirst into this.

Eventually, though, his plan is foiled by Mig, who shuffles them outside, ever the leader in the academy.

“Stop being hermits and go mingle”

Marc pouts at Mig until the younger man pats his cheek, mocking but not cruel.

“Do not be a baby, you are too old for that.”

It just makes Marc scowl, before he changes tact, going wide-eyed and innocent in the hopes of persuading the younger man to let him stay. He sees the moment Mig clocks onto what he’s doing.

“God, I see why Valentino thinks you're adorable. You have a face like a disgruntled cat, although your puppy eyes are pretty adorable”, he smirks.

Marc gapes at him whilst the others burst into rambunctious laughter.

“Ay, Mig, you were not meant to tell him that” Marco giggles

Luca smiles, “Stop flirting with Vale’s boyfriend, he will get mad, you know what he is like”

The comment confuses Marc, and he frowns. He doesn’t know what Valentino is like. It startles him, the realisation that he has no idea how Vale talks about him.

Pecco throws an arm over his shoulder, grinning as he puts on a high-pitched voice, imitating Vale.

“Allora, stop staring at him”

Cele chips in, also mimicking Vale “Marc’s so perfect. It’s so unfair”

Mig chokes out his impersonation between fits of giggles “I am definitely not jealous but I will kill you if you so much as look at Marc, even though I can’t bring myself to make it more official than the occasional coffee.”

Alex is giggling along, unaware of Franky’s awed face watching him.

Marc doesn’t know how to feel.

Bez nudges him, “We are only taking the piss, it is funny.”

“We have had to put up with the old man pining for too long,” Pecco adds

“Ah well, that is what happens when we get old. A good impression of him though.”

It comes from someone new, not one of the boys. Marc jerks, he knows that voice.

Behind Franky stands Dovi, a wide smile on his face as he observes the group, clearly privy to their previous conversation.

The boys fall silent, their gazes snapping between Marc’s shocked face to Dovi's one of amusement. Luca leaves first, excusing himself and patting Dovi’s shoulder as he goes. The others follow suit, slowly slinking away to give them some privacy.

Marc stares at Dovi in silence, stunned and unsure what to say.

It has been playing on his mind recently, the fear that he might have hurt Dovi. Even though they agreed to remain friends, he feels guilty. Dovi doesn’t deserve that pain, it isn’t fair.

“Hey, none of that. Don’t feel guilty, you two deserve happiness.” Dovi declares, tapping Marc twice on the chin.

Marc grimaces. Dovi laughs; he doesn’t look sad, or annoyed- quite the opposite, Dovi looks like he’s glowing with happiness. In fact, now that Marc thinks about it, squinting at Dovi, he does look unusually happy, less tired, brighter.

“You’re tanned,” Marc says, changing the topic, suspicious of Dovi’s

Dovi shrugs, “Australia does that to you”

“Australia?” Marc parrots back, unable to hide his confusion.

It’s then that he hears a distinctive accented voice. He lifts his head, searching and sees Casey talking to Pecco a few feet away. His jaw drops.

Casey and Dovi are here and Vale hasn’t said a thing. He cannot begin to fathom why Valentino would invite Dovi after everything between them.

Marc flicks his gaze back and forth between Casey and Dovi, noting how the latter's cheeks begin to redden. He grins slyly.

“Oh, ohhhhhh. Is this a new thing?” Marc asks. Suddenly a few more things make sense.

Dovi chuckles a little,

“Um, yes. Fairly. After everything that happened, y’know with you and Valentino. I had a lot of thinking to do. As it turns out, Australia is good for that. And maybe I have a type.”

“Oh, and what type is that then?” Marc pushes cheekily; he can’t help the wicked grin that slips onto his face.

“Crazy bastards who look good on motorbikes.” comes the response, not from Dovi but from Valentino who wraps his arms around Marc and rests his chin on his head.

“Hey, don’t talk about my boyfriend like that” Dovi teases.

Casey wanders over and cuffs Valentino on the shoulder in reprimand before he slings his arm over Dovi’s shoulders.

Huh, Marc thinks. He leans back in Valentino, unable to help the way he relaxes.

Looking at Dovi and Casey now, he can see they’re happy, both adoring. It’s sweet. Marc realises that he is genuinely over the moon for them both. Dovi deserves someone simpler, less messy than him. And Casey is the perfect mix of grounded and still a little unhinged.

Even Valentino seems happy, no longer glaring at Andrea with barely concealed jealousy.

As Casey and Vale begin to bicker, he meets Dovi’s eyes, smiling wide.

Maybe things have a way of working out in the end.

Of course, social media blows up when the official VR46 account posts videos of Marc at the ranch. Valentino’s subsequent repost goes viral. Marc is giggling at the insanity as he lays in bed on Friday night, his head pillowed on Valentino’s chest. The boys have clearly taken it as a challenge to see who can break the internet the quickest, posting pictures they have snuck of Marc and Vale from the past three months. None of them are incriminating but if you look hard enough, you can see the softness in Vale’s eyes in every photo.

(Luca unofficially wins with a photo of Valentino and Marc asleep in someone’s motorhome. Not cuddled, but close enough that their hands are touching.)

Marc is still smiling as he falls asleep to the sound of Valentino's heartbeat, their legs entwined.

The weekend continues without a hitch, much to Marc’s relief. He spends most of the time mingling with the boys, sometimes being pulled into conversations with non-MotoGP riders who ask him about Ducati next year. Marc is thankful that no one asks about him and Vale, he doesn’t think they need any more drama.

Luca wins the Americana race for another year running, dominating the field. Marc giggles when Pecco hugs him for just a fraction of a second too long, eliciting whistles from Bez and Mig. The atmosphere is pleasant - laid back rather than overly competitive.

By the time the main race rolls around, Marc is enjoying himself so much that he forgets to be nervous. He has naturally fallen into the rhythm of riding here, watching as Valentino skids through the dirt, approaching the line to hand over to Marc. It’s electric, the roar of the bikes, the screaming crowd, Valentino swerving toward him, a glimpse of wild blue behind the visor.

When Marc takes over, they are already leading. Marc bears down, grinning manically as he hears Pecco hot on his tail. He throws himself into every corner, grasping for the win, catching the bike as it threatens to slip out from underneath him. He skids too hard around one corner, wrangling the bike under control just in time, letting Pecco close in next to him. Good, Marc thinks, a real race.

They fly together through the laps, Marc edging into the lead once more, swinging his leg out for balance, his gaze laser-focused on the racing line. This is his element. He pulls away from Pecco, the speed of his cornering just too much for the younger man to keep pace.

Valentino is there, cheering as Marc thunders over the line, pulling him into a hug as he slows to a stop. The crow roars. Marc beams, flipping his visor up. He desperately wants to kiss Vale, holding himself back from jumping right here and now. He settles for a knowing look shared between them as the others begin to crowd around and celebrate.

Before Marc knows it, they are being shepherded over to where a makeshift podium has been set up. They are awarded their stupid necklaces and champagne as the others watch on.

Marc stands on the top step, gazing up at Valentino next to him.

He sees a God, the man who broke his heart and is now piecing it back together again.

He sees his past, his present, and his future.

Valentino meets his gaze, “Okay, Bambino?”

Marc grins

“Yes. With you, yes – always”

Valentino glances around quickly, and shrugs helplessly, pulling Marc in. Marc laughs, gasping slightly as Vale wraps one arm around his waist and the other around the back of his neck. Marc’s hands come to rest on Valentino’s hips.

“Vale, the cameras” Marc giggles.

Valentino grins, “They can delete it, or not I don’t care. I have the greatest treasure in the world, I don’t mind people knowing that.”

Valentino presses their lips together right there, in front of everyone. Marc beams into it, delighted, there are still purple-red hickeys sitting on his neck and Valentino’s arm around his waist. It feels like home.

Marc deepens the kiss, holding Vale by the roots of his curls. Someone hoots next to them and there is plenty of wolf-whistling from the crowd; Marc can hear Alex laughing.

Fireworks go off behind them. Marc breaks away from Vale, still smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt.

“I love you”

“I love you too, mi amore”

*End*

#motogp #marc marquez #motogp rpf #rosquez #my fics #valentino rossi #medical leak au #pecco bagnaia #andrea dovizioso #vr46 #eeeekk