sabaism (t)
Ch 3/? || 1.8k
| rosquez on/off, winner's room, long fic, 2013 onwards, more info to come with updates
chap 2
yet another fic i'm at a dull spot with. probably due to my insane lack of planning. i'm getting another chapter of this out and finishing 9D chess before i have something i'm really looking forward to working on coming out!!
i've got a bit more of an explaination here if anyone is curious but i am aware not many people care, hence it's seperately linked.
As always with rpf rules, please do not repost or save anywhere, and these are not the true actions or characterization of these people. I have a great respect for them and am basically just using store bought characters for my silly little stories.
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"Don't get yourself involved in any big scraps in your first race. Don't try anything you've got a low chance of getting right. Don't be a pushover, of course you can battle, but please don't make anyone mad. Have some low level battles in the back end of the top ten. We'll be proud if you bring her and yourself home safe. Even prouder if you can snatch some points. You got this." Santi patted the top of his helmet as Marc mumbled his thanks and rounded his shoulders.
Dani waved at him and flashed him a thumbs up. The guy looked much more unsure than Marc had ever seen on TV. Maybe it was because he wasn't acting. Not nervous- but vulnerable.
Marc himself felt vulnerable. A race wasn't something he hadn't done hundreds of times before, but it's just... different.
Lights flash out and Marc's racing habits engulf him. An incredible start. Up to fifth. Engine rumbling beneath him like it was hungry. What for?
Blood, Marc discovered. Sharp out the corners, hot on the heels of men with names plastered across billboards across the world. Fuck.
If anything, he blurred some of it out. Not by choice. Drowned in the sensation. An out of body experience. By the time he'd gained a position to a DNF and battled with someone in Yamaha leathers, he didn't even realise he was three laps away from a podium. Just the numbers +0.239 and incomprehensible words.
So when he crossed the finish line and caught sight of the chequered flag and the two lone riders in front of him, it dawned.
He was on the podium.
In his first race.
How did he even- does he do a lap of honour? No- selfish- he thinks, realising it was Dani who won.
Instead he pulls into Parc Ferme and jumps into the arms of his hyper team. Pats and slaps and screaming.
When's he's finally freed, he is patted on the head by someone tall.
To his left, he turns, and with a smug grin, Valentino Rossi is patting him. He flashes a smile and throws him a "Well Done!" before grabbing his hat and water.
Marc blinked at him for a second, before Santi leans over the barriers and envelops him in a bone crushing hug. The world melts away again.
"Okay you two, head to the cooldown room, we're going to interview Dani by himself out here, he's a little late." Someone with a headset seemingly glued to their ears rushed the pair into a building. The door shut behind them.
It was practically primeval in there. A decently sized TV on a folding table and three stools.
"Fuck- good for you!" Vale flopped onto one of the stools and pushed a hand through sweat-soaked curls. Marc grabbed the remote off the table and noticed a red clipboard.
"What you got?" Vale stood up, still panting and leaned over Marc's shoulder.
Winner's Room Form- Protocol and Legal.
Race: Qatar 2015
Race Winner: Dani Pedrosa
Check one box below if winner wishes to make use of the 'Winner's Room' facilities:
[] yes
[] no
Selected rider: __________
Duration Expected: ________
Priavacy level required(circle one): Minimal/Low/Medium/High
Location: Lounge Room, second floor.
Informed participants of their fire exits, medical histories, and rights to withdrawl?
Tick yes before proceeding
[] yes
Please remind riders of the 14.8 clause of their contracts, and ask them to think of the severity of their right to withdrawl should they refuse.
If riders still persist with withdrawl, inform relevant supervisors and managers before taking any further steps.
The rookies are exempt from winner's room duties.
"Oh yeah," Vale snickered. "Little Dani gets to pick today. Doubt he will."
Marc glanced back at him, brows knitted together in confusion.
"C'mon... you know his disposition... he wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole!" Then he grins. "Apart from when Jorge invites him."
The spaniard just blinked at him. "I-I'm sorry, I still don't understand the whole winner's room thing." He was still ill at esse with the concept of talking to Vale like this. In private. Alone.
"Did you not get briefed on it? By a manager, or your team?"
Marc shook his head. "Eh, what's it... What's it like?"
Vale leaned back in his chair, sucking his bottom lip under his teeth in a grin and kissing his teeth. "You'll see. It's nothing bad," he clarified. "But I'm sure you'll get some," Valentino paused tilting his head to the side. "Experience."
He had his eyes narrowed, sweat still glistening over his forehead. His fingers drummed on his leathers, hand resting over his knee, legs apart, lazy.
Valentino was a difficult man to read at the best of times, and impossible to decipher at the worst.
"Dani, do you need the form?" Headset woman burst into the room, accompanied by a flushed Dani.
Dani shook his head, clutching a helmet in one hand and a bottle in the other.
"Okay then! Up the stairs guys, we're already late." She ushered everyone up, snatching the red clipboard off the table and tucking it under her arm. Dani flashed a smile at Marc, who waved back and grinned.
"Lets go, Marc," Vale stood with a huff and grasped his shoulder.
For Marc, it's something he'd never forget. Even being third, he was hearing a scream louder than one he'd ever heard on the top step of any podium before, it was still entirely unforgettable. Listening to La Marcha Real pump through the speakers, cracked lips mouthing words he knew better than the back of his hand. Eyes pressed shut, taking in a lifetime's worth of air through his nose, scent of victory filling his lungs and engulfing him fully. When it finished, he broke into a grin and smacked his champagne on the corner of the podium to drench Dani in.
Dani himself was giggling and possibly crying a bit, spraying what he had on the team below.
Something cold ran down the back of Marc's neck, and he whipped around to see a smug Valentino firing jets of bubbles down the back of his suit, cap backwards, sunglasses hiding his sleazy glare.
It made Marc grin all the wider, flashing dull canines at Vale.
--
dani
r u out with us tn or are you too young?
nah i'm coming with
got my fake id ;)
dropped pin: Club 26
8pm
rather fitting
we got lucky for sure
its a tourist bar cuz locals don't drink
"I can't believe you're ditching the team at 11pm. For a random hookup."
"Not random!" Dani scowled. "I know them pretty well."
Marc gave a huge mock gasp. "She works in the paddock?"
"No."
"Any team member?"
"No!"
"Member of another team?"
"Marc!"
He swirled his ridiculously colorful drink around in his glass and took a sip, staring up at him with raised eyebrows.
Dani rolled his eyes.
"Can't believe you," Marc sighed.
"It wouldn't be difficult for you to go find a girl to celebrate with. C'mon, first podium in your first race, go live a little. Everyone gets drunk beyond comprehension by the end of the night, so no one cares where you've gone. In- the nicest way. Y'know?"
Dani smiled and slipped away.
Forty five minutes later, Marc found himself wiping someone's lipgloss off his face after a uh, less than enjoyable experiance.
"Fuck's sake," Club bathrooms weren't exactly his favourite place to spend extended periods of time in the first place, so being already pissed off didn't help the situation.
Someone next to him surpressed a laugh. Marc glared at him.
"Hey! Don't look at me like that. What's your problem?"
"Don't have a fucking problem." He spat. "Just wish I didn't have to spend half an hour scrubbing some bitch's raspberry lipgloss off myself."
"Well," the dude shrugged. "You could always just kiss guys."
Marc narrowed his eyes at him. "The fuck you on about?"
"Hey, it's not half bad. Keeps your options open, if nothing else."
Marc just laughed and threw the wrecked tissues he'd been using in the bin, turning to face the guy fully. He was about a head taller than Marc, short blonde hair clinging to itself in strands of sweat, light blue eyes and an open black shirt.
"Tell me you've kissed a guy and you hated it, and I'll leave you be. But you haven't."
He was grinning by this point, tongue tracing the bottom of his teeth.
"I haven't. Whatever."
"How old are you?"
"Twenty."
"That's pretty young."
"No shit."
"Try it. If you hate it, slap me, and I'll buy you a drink. Deal?"
"What kind of fucking deal is that?"
"Trust me. You must be drunk enough to, given that you're having this conversation with me."
He stepped forward the tiniest bit. Marc didn't step back.
"No different to kissing a girl, right?"
The guy grinned. "Whatever you say buddy."
It wasn't really. The actual mechanics of it, sure, but the feeling? Girls didn't push him against a wall, hand cupping his chin, and bite his lip.
Marc was very used to being the one in control.
This was different. And better.
"Get a fucking room!" Someone yelled, walking into the bathroom.
"Fuck off!" The blonde guy removed his face from Marc's and craned his neck around to glare at the other. Marc rubbed his eyes and kind of stared around a bit, until he realised who it was who'd yelled at them.
"Oh, hi Marc." Vale smiled, unkindly, and walked back out.
Blonde guy shrugged. "So, Marc? How was it out of ten?"
"Shit- I have to go, sorry," He mumbled, slipping out the door, lips still reddish.
"Eh, I've gotten worse reviews."
"Valentino!" Marc yelled after him, following him through the packed crowd to the bar. "Wait!"
Vale paused at the bar to let Marc catch up to him. "What?"
"Please don't tell anyone,"
"Oh Marc, baby, you don't think I would?" He cocked his head. "Just didn't expect you to be, well, so much of a slut."
Marc flinched at the last word. "I'm not gay."
"Didn't say you were."
"Is that... not what the problem was?"
"Marc, why would that be a problem?"
"I don't know... discrimination?"
Vale laughed. "No ones cares. And the people who do don't find out."
"Oh."
"But I know now." He had a bit of a look about his face. Too sly and cunning to be friendly.
"That was... the first time that happened."
He looked bemused. "With a guy? Gosh, big day for you. Still, better late than never."
"What?"
Valentino laughed again and flagged down a waiter. "Drink?"
"No thanks, I've had enough." He mumbled, trying to figure out where the fuck he'd got the courage to chase Valentino Rossi down to beg him not to rat on him. The whole damn evening was a write off by this point.
