In One Word...

[sweetpeapoppy]

Characters: Mark Webber, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Raikkonen, Sebastian Vettel, Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg, Robert Kubica, Rubens Barrichello
Pairings: Alonso/Webber, possible Rosberg/Webber, possible Button/Webber
Ratings: Blue flag - angsty, happy, naughty and observant
Summary: Mark was asked in an interview to describe a list of drivers in one word, so why did he described them as such? Mixture of past, present and future events, some real, some not.
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen.


The interviewer shifts in his seat and Mark wonders if it was to get comfortable or he was about to ask him a tough question, and with the low sun was cutting a direct path into his eyes through the motorhome windows he hoped whichever reason it was going to shorten the experience.

“Mark, back to F1 for a minute.” The journalist scratches at his chin with the top of his pen as he waits for the full attention of the driver. “In a word, please describe: Fernando Alonso.”

“Fighter.” Mark replies on instinct. There was no other way to describe him, and he would know.

Fernando sunk his teeth into the curve of his neck and Mark knew it was with the sole intent on leaving a bruise that would take days to fade, he loved to brand him one way or another. And there was a part of Mark that wanted him to do that. Fernando grappled with Mark until he had him on his back, pressing his biceps into the floor he straddled his waist and rolled his hips teasingly slowly.

Mark lifted his lower body off the ground to try and maneuver his way out of Fernando’s clutches, but it was of no use yet as he was in full attack mode. He had barely enough time to close the door behind him before Fernando was clawing at his body, dragging him onto his knees it didn’t take long for Mark to be sprawled on his back. The carpet made his skin hot and the back of his arms itch, but Fernando wasn’t going to give up yet, he had to work through all of this before he could accept the situation.

Fernando growled deeply and waited for the resistance, and it came. Mark bucked wildly underneath him, and in his attempt to send him off balance he thumped his back heavily against the floor and winced. But it didn’t stop the man for a second. So Mark had to keep providing a reason to fight, but he was tired of doing this all the time.

He pushed Fernando backwards so forcefully he sounded winded when he hit the floor, his eyes flashed red and panting heavily he launched a fierce attack. But Mark caught his arms as they came towards him, he held them tightly and braced himself as Fernando tried to push into him.

“Fernando, stop fighting.”

“No!” He shouted, offended at the request.

“I can’t keep doing this every time.” Mark sighed, bringing Fernando’s wrists together. “I’m tired of fighting you.”

“I can’t stop.” Fernando pulled away and put so much distance between them he could lean against the wall. “I have to fight.”

“Why?” Mark lay on the floor, exhausted by him, with his arms covering his face.

“Because...” He pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees.

This was as far as they usually got, Fernando would start and then clam up tight then leave. If they’d had a drink or if Fernando had won they would avoid all of this and their night would be blissful and calm. Expecting the same again Mark levered himself off the floor and slipped into bed, and turning on his side he waited for the door to open and shut. If he left, he was done with it all.

He could hear him grab at the wall to pick himself off the floor, there he goes Mark thought. He felt his chest constrict at the promise he made to himself moments before, but he had to stick to it, he couldn’t bear the hurt anymore.

“Mark.”

“If you’re going to go, go.” He was dejected.

“No.” Mark could hear him shuffle to the edge of the bed and kneel down beside him.

Mark turned over to be faced with Fernando’s thigh. “I’m sick of fighting with you, it’s so exhausting. You need to stop this.”

“I can’t.”

“Fucks sake, why not?” Flat on his back he groaned into his hands. “I can’t do this anymore.” He whispered.

“I’m not supposed to...not meant to...” Fernando jumped onto his feet and paced across the room, from wall to wall muttering in Spanish.

“Fernando, just tell me!” Mark roared.

Stopped in his tracks he spun around to face the man now sat up in bed, his face red with frustration. “I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you!”

“What?” Struck dumb by the crooked admission Mark’s face was a picture of shock.

“I wasn’t meant to, you’re competition, you’re my competition Mark.” Fernando’s face was screwed up in confusion when he saw Mark still looking bewildered. “What?”

“Fer, you...you love me?”

“Yes!” He stilled when he realised what he had said. “Yes. I do.” He rushed to Mark’s side and placed the lightest kiss to his lips, scared he’d pushed Mark too far. “I fight because I need to win.”

“Is that why you fight me? To win me?” Mark cradled his face. “You should know you don’t need to do that.”

“Scared.”

“And you don’t think I am? Fer, I’m terrified all the time. I’m in love with my competition too.” He wrapped his arms around Fernando’s neck and pulled him onto his body.

“You love me?” Fernando whispered into his neck.

“I love you.” Mark breathed him in. “You love me?”

“I love you.” He replied with kisses along his jawline.

“We fight only on track.” They fell into a relaxed kiss that promised more than any word could.

“Kimi Räikkönen.”

“Not bothered.” It was true, but there was always an exception to the rule.

Kimi nodded subtly in Mark’s direction from the other end of the bar, tipping his head back he swallowed the next mouthful of beer from the half empty bottle and set it back down again. The bar wasn’t particularly busy, but there was a constant buzz of people milling around as they passed through before heading out for the night.

Mark watched with a lazy interest as a couple of girls tried to catch Kimi’s eye, one with hair that matched the Finn’s tried first, she swept long hair over her shoulder and sidled up to him. Her first mistake, Mark thought, was that she focused all her attention on getting him to notice; curling hair around a finger, playing with a long necklace and drinking suggestively were all doomed to fail. And to relieved himself of the blonde Kimi pulled his shoulder into himself to gently turn his back on her. Mark smiled around the next sip of beer and waited for the next attempt.

The brunette set herself up next, but having watched her friend fail she kept a little in reserve, but despite this Kimi ignored her efforts and focused on emptying the bottle which he did a few swift mouthfuls. Mark watched him order another as the brunette eventually gave up the fight and returned to her friend looking dejected.

Kimi sent Mark a wry look, with just the very edges of his mouth turning upwards. They always had a laugh about the passes that were made at them, and as Mark remembered some of the stories Kimi told he thought this was particularly tame in comparison. He made a move to join Kimi and mull over anything other than the weekend, but it stopped when a familiar blonde entered the bar. He watched Sebastian order a drink and take residence a couple of seats down from Kimi.

The bar wasn’t particularly busy now and Mark had a clear view of the pair of them and their usual dance. Sebastian pretends not to look at Kimi when he sips from his bottle, but Mark can’t miss the way his eyes slide over to the Finn. There’s a sort of excitement there that wasn’t related to racing or winning, it was closer to hopeful, hopeful that Kimi would notice him.

And he does when Sebastian tips the bottle to his lips and a drop of beer hangs on his lips but before his tongue reaches it, it darts down his chin. Sebastian plays on it and lets it run down his neck. Without the protection of his sunglasses Mark can see Kimi’s eagerly watching where the droplet travels to. The lightest pink flush fleets over Kimi’s cheeks as Sebastian mutters something before he leaves his half finished drink on the bar.

Mark counts exactly three minutes on his watch before Kimi makes an almost unnoticed exit. Not bothered, not this time.

“Nico Rosberg.”

“Beautiful.” He made sure to leave enough in his voice to highlight the reference to Nico’s nickname before he mouths ‘Britney’.

There was a frisson of excitement in the pit of Mark’s stomach when Frank told him that Nico would be joining the team, he had tipped him to be his teammate earlier in the season and he was proved right. Mark knew they would get on well, and Frank had seen something between the pair when Nico joined the team as a test driver.

He watched Nico move through the garage, for a rookie he was very assured with a confidence found from spending a life in the paddock already. All that blonde hair scraped back off of his face, how very German of him, not a hair out of place. His second thought was altogether more sordid, more concerned with how his would look with it messed up, tangled around his fingers, fanned out on a pillow.

“Hi Mark.” Nico finally arrived to where Mark was sitting at the back of the garage.

“Alright mate, uniform suits you.” He commented as he sucked a mouthful of drink out of his bottle.

“You think?” Nico twirled around.

“Yeah.” Mark let out a small laugh.

“You’ll see me later.” Nico grinned at Mark with full force before he disappeared through the garage and undoubtedly into the team motorhome he thought. Then his mind floated back to what Nico actually meant by seeing him later, he dismissed it as a clumsy mistake and thought nothing more of it.

That was until he received a text from his blonde German teammate.

Do I really suit it?

- Yeah fits you well

Really? Must have looked at me lots :)

- Hard to miss the blonde hair mate

You like blondes?

- Nothing wrong with a blonde

So I am perfect? :P

- Didn’t say that, would need some proof

Mark was then faced with a digital silence from Nico, he wasn’t asking for proof, it just seemed the obvious reply to send back. He played with his phone in his hand for a few moments before setting it down, there wasn’t anything else he could say so the television filled the gap.

Proof?

Mark opened the message to find a photo as well, Nico had taken a picture of himself in his hotel mirror. He’d taken a race suit back with him.

- Not bad

There came a second pause, but it didn’t feel final, there was an air of anticipation that Mark realised he had created himself.

Better?

Another photo was attached, except this time Nico had tugged his zip down to expose a small amount of hair on his chest. Mark wasn’t sure where this was going, if Nico was drunk or he metering out a test, or he was horny. But he wasn’t the one sending photos.

- Bit

Better?

It continued between them with Nico exposing more and more of his torso when Mark gave him a brief hint of praise. By the time Mark had wrapped his head around what Nico was doing the German was down to his boxers.

What do you think now?”

On the frustratingly small screen of his phone he could just about pick out the lines of his toned stomach and the pale fuzz of hair above his boxers.

- Better out of the suit mate

Better out of boxers?

He felt disappointed that there wasn’t a photo attached but felt his imagination was up to the task of filling in the gaps.

Then came a beep. What do you think?

“Jenson Button?”

“Laid-back.” Nothing seems to faze him.

“Morn...” Jenson yawned quietly into his hand. “...ing.”

“Mrng.” Mark returned the sentiment as he sunk deeper under the duvet to take in more of the warmth they created overnight. He had no desire to get out of bed any time soon and he had a sneaking suspicion that Jenson was about to suggest such a devious act, so with the only energy he wanted to spare he pulled the covers over his head.

“Rude.” Jenson poked him through the duvet.

There was a pause where Mark realised they had just woken up together. In bed. They had just woken up together in bed.

“Jenson.” Mark poked his head out into the morning light.

“Yeah?” He rolled onto his side.

“When did we get in bed together?” Mark asked plainly trying desperately to hide his panic.

“Don’t know, was a pretty heavy night.” He half shrugged.

“Yeah.” Mark answered automatically.

“Or you found me so utterly irresistible you wanted to spend the night with me.” Jenson fell onto his back and stretched his body out decadently.

Mark picked his head up to look around the room. “This is my room.”

“So you dragged me into your bed, this is a turn up for the books.” Jenson crowed.

Mark, on his back too, looked over at Jenson his gaze skirting over the large bulge at his crotch.

“You wish.” He grinned at the easy opportunity for a joke.

“Maybe I do mate.” Jenson, with no hint of shame or embarrassment glanced downwards. “And clearly you do too.”

An awkward silence fell over them both as they contemplated their next move, there was a common desire to make a rapid escape but tiredness combined with the untroubled warmth and comfort of the bed stopped them. Mark let his eyes shut the sun out, but he wasn’t allowed to sleep.

“Jense, what are you doing?” Mark didn’t open his eyes, all he could feel was the bed shudder beside him.

“It’s not going to go down on its own.” Jenson stated like it was the most obvious answer.

Mark peeled an eye open and it immediately saw the unmistakable motion of hand around cock under duvet.

“Seriously?” Mark yawned. “I’m right here.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t before?”

“No!” When would he have ever had a wank in the company of a friend?

“Prude.” He laughed.

“It’s weird.” Mark tried to sound disgusted, but it got lost when Jenson moaned again.

“So weird you’re still here. Ahhh.” He arched into his fist. “Dare you.”

He was still hard, it was the quickest way to get rid of it he reasoned to himself. And the best way. Mark tried to relax and shut Jenson out when he pushed his hand under the elastic waistband of his boxers, but just as he circled his dick Jenson exhaled heavily.

It was still weird, but at least it felt good. He tried to be quiet but everytime Jenson moaned he found himself wanting to match him, prove he was getting off just as much as he was. Then the atmosphere transformed, as Mark got into it he could hear Jenson play along, goad him into being more expressive.

“Yes.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Feels good.”

“Feels so good.”

The duvet still covered them, but Mark could just pick up Jenson’s scent as they moved about and a deep dark part of him was curious about finding out more. He knew that was a line he would never cross, so he focused on getting himself off, he liked to play the pre come down his length and tease his head and balls.

“Oh god.” Jenson moaned loudly as he picked his legs up.

Feeling that familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach Mark did the same, widening their legs they grazed each other and the spark of electricity spurred them on. As he pushed his head into the pillows Mark felt a hand that wasn’t his own dig into his thigh tightly.

“Fu...oh...god.” Mark’s whole body shook as he climaxed messily over his hand inside his boxers, he barely registered Jenson’s hand delve lower before he came himself. His cock pulsed when he gave him a cheeky squeeze. “Ugh.”

“So?” Jenson panted lightly.

“Yeah.” Mark returned with a sigh, unable to really say how he felt, he wasn’t sure yet.

“You know,” Jenson produced tissues from somewhere and gifted Mark a scrunched handful. “I’ll never be able to take you seriously now.”

“What? Why?” Mark tried to clean himself up as subtly as possible whilst hiding the horror of what Jenson might be implying.

“You growl the same when you come as when you get angry. It’s pretty hot actually.” Jenson beamed as Mark blushed. “Tempted to make you angry in the next driver meeting now.”

“Rubens Barrichello.”

“Latin.” There was no other way to describe Rubens.

He catapulted the controller at the other end of the sofa as Mark chuckled at how frustrated he had become after losing a race. Rubens had extended the invitation to visit the last time Mark saw him in Brazil, now he was here after a truly exhausting season playing video games with a friend.

“Come on old man, I’ll let you have a head start this time.” Mark grinned wearily.

“Ah Mark, is not funny!” Rubens landed a light punch to Mark’s bicep.

Mark laughed at his frown and swung an arm around him. “Sorry mate, I’m just more intune with racing at the moment.” He hugged him briefly before he set up another race. “I’ll even play myself this time.” He had been playing as Felipe trying to imagine what he’d look like in red, he tried to brush it off as boosting Brazilian numbers but he knew Rubens saw straight through that.

“Try and get the start right, yeah?” He nudged him playfully and selected Fernando, number one Ferrari driver.

“Cheeky shit!”

They played for a while longer, Mark won a couple before Rubens got onto a winning streak to bring their total to an equal number. There was a temptation to play on but instead Rubens suggested leaving the comfort of his house and sampling the Brazilian nightlife.

“Rubens I am knocking on forty, my time has passed to do stuff like that.”

“Then what am I then!” Rubens stood up dramatically and the controller went flying again. “Mark, you underestimate yourself and me! I am offended!” He stalked off out of the den and left Mark to consider his options. There weren’t many, he could stay here and chuck on another game or follow the Brazilian and attempt to placate him.

“One drink.” Mark stood firm when he peeked into Ruben’s bedroom.

“No one in Brazil has one drink, what are you afraid of? You deserve it!” His arms were flailing about wildly in between buttoning his shirt up. “Is crazy you think like this, get changed, we celebrate!”

The heat was different here, it wasn’t just the humidity or temperature but the noise of revellers, the lights from the bars and the constant movement. Nothing or no one was still in Brazil for very long and Mark could feel himself become reinvigorated from the air itself. A dose of reality after a whirlwind year.

Rubens had picked a particularly crowded and raucous bar brimming with young people jumping and chanting along with the jovial sounds the speakers were insisting on playing at full volume. Every drink Rubens forced into his hand was sweeter than the last, it was an obvious ploy to keep him awake and one Mark was happy to play along with.

“Is good, no?” Rubens shouted over the music.

“Yeah!” Mark nodded enthusiastically, the grin on his face was wider than it had been in a while and it felt good to relax like this. Even though this was Brazil, Rubens was able to float through the crowds without being troubled, it felt so free to dance around stupidly. Clearly Rubens’ Brazilian genetics helped him blend in, but even so Mark didn’t care what he looked like now. That buttons on his shirt were mysteriously being undone, that he had drunk a rainbow's worth of drinks or that his hips had departed from reason and were shaking to the bass line.

Hours later, too many hours later and far too many drinks to contemplate counting Mark collected Rubens’ limbs and herded them in the direction of the door, and finally outside. The breeze was still warm but thankfully cooler than the overbearing heat of hundreds of people pulsating to the heady rhythmic thump.

Mark watched Rubens hail a taxi and despite the countless warnings the team hammered into him during the race weekend he climbed in after the shorter man. The frantic journey was peppered with doses of Portuguese Mark had no chance in understanding, so he sat back and braced himself for impact as subtly as he could.

“Here.” Rubens announced to Mark before he returned to his first language to speak to the driver again. He guessed it was to hang around as he turned the engine off and sparked up a cigarette and relaxed. “Come on, get out.”

“Where are we?”

“You’ll see.”

Mark clambered out and recognised their surroundings immediately, looking through the chain link fence he gazed upon the circuit he drove around mere weeks ago. Although the stands were empty and the sky dark he remembered the emotions that crashed over him as his crossed the line for the last time on that Sunday.

For all of Rubens’ exuberance his passion wasn’t just restricted to questionable dancing and wild gestures, he could show it in thoughtful moments too, and in relative silence Brazil offered they stood together and gazed across the track.

“So how does it feel?”

“Strange.”

“That’s all?” A small laugh rested on Rubens’ lips.

“I can’t believe I did it. I can’t believe it’s done.” He sighed.

“Try and sound happy yes? You won, you’re the champion!” He slapped Mark on the back heartily.

“Fuck, I did, didn’t I?” He rested his head against the fence and twisted to glance over to Rubens. “I think I need to get some rest, the gala thing is tomorrow.”

“Yeah, can’t have you hungover when you give Sebastian the finger.” Rubens grinned wildly as he opened the car door for himself.

“Oh mate, been there, done that.” Mark smirked, knowing he had risen above doing anything like that, he’d just been unnervingly nice instead which made Sebastian twitch whenever he got close to him.

“Good, now sleep!” He directed the driver back to his house and Mark allowed the rhythm of the judderly car engine lull him into a peaceful state, content with his head leant against the cool glass absorbing the flurry of lights streaking past. “Mark Webber, world champion. Has a nice ring to it I think.” Rubens mused sleepily beside him, and Mark had to agree, he’d proved the most loyal to him right. The pain was worth it. It was all worth it.

“Robert Kubica.”

“Quality.” There were few he would call that, but Robert’s one of the best.

He pulled on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a scruffy tee shirt, after a day in the simulator he wanted nothing more than to be comfortable when he snuck into the den and holed up with his laptop. Fernando had found him the link and it was promised to him in an email, sparking the computer on Mark unscrewed the lid on a fresh bottle of water.

His body thrown onto the large couch he positioned the screen with one hand so he could see it when he fully reclined. A quick glance at his watch told him it had already started but it didn’t take him long to find the right email and open the stream. The action was instant, and although Mark wasn’t fully up together with the drivers and teams just yet, he immediately appreciated the skill.

“Nice.” He murmured under his breath as the driver held the car in perfect balance across the gravel to scoop around a corner with an air of calm about him. He swept through the gears and pumped the gas to push the car to its limit to gain time on the straight. He was determined and possessive of the track that carved through the forest, he hugged every corner, hit every apex and adapted to every surface change.

His co-pilot reeled off the instructions with practiced ease and the driver understood and followed every one, he was damn good, Mark sat up enthralled with his progress he was making against the leader. He was up on the time and although the stream wasn’t giving any information about who the driver was but Mark felt himself getting tense as he closed in on the finish line.

“And that’s Kubica in first place. Great drive, bet F1 is missing a driver like that.” The commentator crackled over the footage.

“Woah.” Mark sat back and watched the camera follow Robert out of the car as he carefully picked himself out. He should have known it was him, he had a feeling there was something familiar about the driver, even on the rough terrain it was a smooth and classy drive. He wasn’t sure if Formula One would offer him the chance to drive again, he hoped a spot would become available for him but he knows how unforgiving it can be, Robert did too.

Phone in hand he tapped out a message and sent it off to him.

Quality.

“And finally, Sebastian Vettel.”

He had to leave this one to last, he should have seen this coming, Mark cycled through a variety of suitable descriptions but settled on one that would cause the least problems for him. “Hungry.” He gave himself a mental pat on the back for his restraint.

The team meeting was beyond painful, it started with an awkward silence that was only broken by Christian coughing before he tumbled through the regular post race debrief. There was no real congratulation on the podium, only a focus on the loss of what could have been which irked Mark. He fucked it all up in Fiji and now he’d done it in Turkey, cost him points on the way to his championship.

Usually he was one of the first to leave the debrief, but locked into Sebastian’s eyes he didn’t flinch as the others filtered out. He wanted to convey all of the hate in his heart across the table.

“Just-”

“I won’t kill him Christian.” Mark barked as the team principal hung onto the door nervously.

“Mark.”

“Leave.” He growled and Christian listened, sighing as he shut the door behind him.

“It was your fault!” Sebastian spat.

“It wasn’t even close to being my fault!” Mark slammed a fist onto the long conference table.

“Helmut agrees with me.” Sebastian folded his arms across his chest and put a stern look upon his young face.

“Of course he fucking does, we all know why he does Seb, it’s disgusting.” Mark stood up and paced up and down the room.

“It’s not like that.” Sebastian shook his head vehemently.

“I don’t give a fuck Seb, you don’t know how good you’ve got it. You get everything you want.” Mark stood at the window and stared down into the paddock he’d clawed his way through.

“Because I want it hard enough!” He shouted until his voice cracked.

“Is that it? Oh well, that solves it all then.” Mark threw his hands into the air as he spun around. “You know what I’ve done to get here, don’t you dare patronise me.” Mark stalked over to where Sebastian was sitting and spun the chair around to face him, looming close to his face he continued. “What do you want me to do, prove to you how much I want it?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian sneered as he puffed out his chest.

Mark dipped closer until their noses were practically touching. “I’m not willing to stoop down to your level, when I win this championship I’ll be able to stand up there with some dignity.” He looked away. “I hope you’re happy with your decisions.” Mark straightened himself up and smoothed down his shirt.

“I am.” Sebastian stood up and matched Mark’s stance. “Because I will win. And that is something we both know.” Gently pushing Mark backwards he practically skipped out of the room into the warm embrace of the team.

Bring it on.