Adeus - Multi
Characters: Mark Webber, Fernando Alonso, Nico Rosberg, Charles Pic, Romain Grosjean, Felipe Massa, Sebastian Vettel, Daniel Ricciardo, Jean-Eric Vergne, Heikki Huovinen, Jenson, Button, Nico Hulkenberg, Paul di Resta, Rob Smedley.
Pairings: Webber/Alonso, Webber/Rosberg, Webber/Pic, Ricciardo/Vergne, Hulkenberg/di Resta
Ratings: Blue flag (light blue)
Summary: Mark's leaving party gets... a little out of hand.
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen.
“This better not be a leaving party.” Mark called to the man jogging towards him.
“As if mate, we’re glad you’re going to be honest.” Jenson grinned as he slapped his shoulder. “Your ability to grow a beard in sixty seconds makes us look less manly.” He laughed loudly in the bustling paddock of the Interlagos circuit, team personnel from up and down the grid were fighting to pack up before they could indulge in a post-season drink and the par of drivers were quickly herded between the Red Bull motorhomes.
Mark lay a hand on the metal panel and sighed quietly, the purple paint job made him chuckle at the beginning of the year but he wasn’t sorry to leave it behind, it wasn’t his colour.
“You going to miss it?”
“Here?” He nodded towards the Energy Station. “Or here.” He gestured out into the paddock.”
“All of it.”
“Yeah, suppose. Racing against you guys yeah, but all the other shit, no.”
Jenson grinned with a little sadness, it was the right time for Mark to leave, there was no point in getting to grips with the new game if he was planning to leave anyway. And winning Le Mans was another blue ribbon race he could add to his CV. “Surprised to hear you say that.” He replied sardonically. “Coast is clear, let’s go.”
They wandered between forklifts, tyre trolleys and mechanics, cameras, journalists and guests waved and offered well wishes and a range of items to be signed. Mark was expecting everything to be tinged with sadness, but the feeling never arose and his heart only thumped to an excited rhythm. His career wasn’t over, far from it, the opportunity to race on his own terms and be part of a team that raced fair was laid out in front of him.
He had no doubt what he was letting himself in for, he loved that Jenson thought he was being masterful in hiding the party but the skip in his step and constant checks of his phone gave him away. But for Jenson there wasn’t a part of Mark that was going to spoil it, even though he hated the idea.
So when Jenson offered him a lift back to the hotel for the first time in a very long while he didn’t question it, he thanked him and said it would be great. He was happy to ignore the party but he was struggling to let the sad looks escape. “Jense, stop looking at me like I’m dying.” He snorted.
“But you kinda are, Mark Webber the Formula One driver is no more!”
“Could you be any more dramatic?”
“I could throw myself out of the car?” Jenson tapped the window.
“If it would stop the sad looks then go ahead mate. I’m ready for this.” He lightly punched Jenson in the arm.
Jenson took the hint and kept his eyes on the road, only averting his gaze to exchange small talk until they reached the hotel. He knew Mark was aware of what was going on, no one lasts this long at the top of a sport without having great instincts, so he was grateful when Mark thanked him for the lift and walked away from him.
“Mark, feel like a drink? Surely you deserve one.” Jenson attempted his best impression of coy.
“Alright.” Mark purposely headed towards the open bar area.
“Not that way” Jenson tutted and corralled him into an elevator before hiding the button he pressed, forgetting the display. “Just in here mate.” Jenson half shouted and Mark was forced to suppress a smile as he pushed the door open, but he released it when he saw the contents. The room was decorated with a substantial number of banners that ranged from bon voyage to a light hearted good riddance.
“I hate you.” Mark hissed under his breath before plastering a grin on his face to thank everyone for turning up, and to make it look like he was surprised.
“Right then guys, let’s give Mark a proper send off!” Jenson shouted and despite the end of season fatigue definitely having set in the music was switched on and everyone migrated to the makeshift bar, an assortment of bottle strewn across the large desk. “And you don’t hate me” He spoke under his breath. “Secretly you’re very glad that so many people turned up without me having to threaten them.”
“Fuck off.” Mark grinned with an unwelcome blush spreading across his face. He really didn’t want a fuss at all, he warned the team but they just set up competitions and wheeled out a video of his highlights, the British media had their own videos as well as the Aussie network and by the end he felt exhausted. He would have quite happily swiped out of the paddock and never looked back.
Mark was handed drink after drink, unable to get to the table to get a drink he actually wanted he had to make do with bottle after bottle of beer, until he could find somewhere to stash them. He had been given so many he stopped feeling sorry for the large plant he was poisoning by tipping the liquid into the large terracotta pot.
He had spent enough time in the room to see who wasn’t here, and he far from surprised to see that Sebastian wasn’t there, Lewis had made a flying visit and a couple of the rookies had wished him good luck during the weekend itself. But there was one notable absence that he wasn’t going to acknowledge while he was this sober.
“Karaoke time!”
He could tell it was Jenson’s voice and hearing the terror word he shrunk back, but plied with a copious amount of alcohol Jenson didn’t notice and within a few moments Waltzing Matilda was blaring out of the portable sound system. Taking his phone out of his pocket Mark videoed Jenson, Felipe and Romain warbled tonelessly through the song, he was already composing the tweet that would accompany it.
It wasn’t long until he allowed himself to relax, everyone seemed to be having a good enough time, although he felt sorry for anyone on the same floor as them, the karaoke seemed to be getting louder and more out of tune. Jenson was definitely enjoying his time as the ringleader, and Mark couldn’t deny he knew how to put people in a good mood. Especially Felipe.
“Sorry for ruining your song.”
“It’s okay Felipe, you did better than I could.” Mark laughed as he failed to resist yet another drink, this time it was some sort of spirit with coke. “How are you anyway?” They drifted to the edge of the room with the Brazilian.
“Okay, is not ideal, I think...wish it could have been on my own terms.”
“That’s why I chose to go, it was the right time for me. But Williams will be a good fit for you?” Mark saw Felipe nod his head and a smile began to spread across his lips. He just hoped he would have a better time there than he did, heart over head or something like that landed him there, he thought he could be the one to send them stratospheric once more.
“I want to prove I am not just there to be support someone else, you know?” He sipped at his beer.
“I can see where you’re coming from mate.” Mark let out a sour laugh. “But you won’t be remembered for that, you won the championship.” He heard a derisive snort. “Even if it was for a few seconds, you still did, some never even get close enough to be a contender. You did.”
Felipe sighed. “Maybe.” He never understood why Mark could always unearth a silver lining from somewhere, he had heard him chatting with the younger drivers after a bad race and he was the same. “You’ll be missed.” Felipe grabbed his shoulder to make sure he had heard.
“Cheers mate, keep boxing.” It seemed unfair that he had been squeezed out of Ferrari, but that was the game they played.
Felipe smiled at Mark’s words and tapped the bottom his his bottle of beer against Mark’s glass and left to rejoin the karaoke.
He stayed on the sidelines for a little while longer and observed the faces he wasn’t going to be seeing for much longer, his first season seemed so long ago, he was so green back then even though he felt ready for Formula One. Now he was being referred to as the elder statesman like he used a rocking chair and stroked a long white beard when telling stories to the rookies.
“Hello.”
He was handed something bright blue this time, and now he could feel the affects of the mouthfuls of alcohol he had taken to be polite. “Alright Romain, no need to apologise for butchering the song, Felipe got there before you.”
“Oh, I thought I did quite well.” Romain pouted comically with arms crossed over his chest.
“Stick to the day job mate.” Mark grinned broadly.
“I think I will, not much of a nutcase now.” Romain laughed loudly.
“Searching for a few compliments are we?” He arched an eyebrow.
“I know I am better, took long enough.” Romain smiled sheepishly.
“Keep an eye on Nico though, he’s no slouch.”
“Oui, but I am number one.” He puffed out his chest a little.
“Watch yourself.” Mark warned.
“It is the only place, at home Sacha and Marion come first every time!” Romain raised his glass of wine to Mark and gave an appreciative nod.
Now he knew there was wine floating about Mark was hoping there was a half decent red in the mix but before he could search through all the opened and half empty bottles Jenson was calling the shots again. “Time for a game!”
Mark rolled his eyes internally and turned with everyone else to watch Jenson clamber onto the bed unsteadily, balancing with his arms outstretched until he was settled. “The game is all about our dear, departing Mark Webber.” He gestured to him which prompted everyone to raise their glasses and bottle noisily in his direction. “You must stand upon the stage here and give your best impression, and we shall judge, success will bring rewards and failure will get you a massive drink of this!” Jenson held a large bottle of lurid green liquid aloft to a round of cheers. “I’ll go first!”
Jenson bounced on the bed a couple of times and did the iconic top of the podium pose to a round of applause quickly followed by a chant of ‘drink, drink, drink.’ Mark soon realised everyone would be drinking, and considering what he was about to witness he thought it would be a great idea to join in. Romain was up next and did a very French version of the ‘not bad for a number two driver’. Felipe spouted off a list of Australianisms in an atrocious accent that had everyone rolling about in laughter. Daniel and Jean-Eric did a collaborative effort of demonstrating Fuji where Daniel played Mark throwing up in a helmet and Jean-Eric playing Sebastian pushed him onto the bed and rubbed his eyes.
By now the drink was flowing freely and Mark was definitely feeling the buzz, and was finally enjoying himself. Nico Hulkenberg and Paul di Resta rounded on Mark. “Taxi for Webber?” They bowed before hoisting him onto their shoulders and all Mark could do was laugh, two of the tallest drivers had him touching the ceiling.
“I said impressions not a fucking highlights package!” Jenson wailed as he thrust the bottle at Nico who passed it onto Paul after a huge mouthful.
“Me next then.” Nico Rosberg leapt onto the bed and simply put his hands on his hips. “I’m super Mark.” He explained the round of question faces. “Don’t lie, we’ve all seen the photos.”
“I’m a Canberra kid!”
Mark's focus was pulled back to the speakers, Jenson had clearly gotten bored of how his game was playing out and his alcohol fuelled brain had decided that the highlights package was exactly on the money.
“Jenson, no!” Mark was trying to his hardest to stop it, but the last drink had sent him over the edge. He found himself with his arms around Daniel and Romain’s shoulders singing along to the words to advert he recorded years ago. What was making him laugh was that all the drivers knew the words. Every single one.
In a way it made him appreciate Jenson all the more, they had been through a hell of a lot together, suffered the horror of the back of the grid and tasted the unique flavour of glory. Although Jenson got one over him on that front, but he wasn’t bitter; right place, right time, and he almost squeezed himself into that category. Steeling himself against such thoughts Mark let the large reserve of alcohol finally flood his system, whatever emotion was burning below the surface was muddied well enough to sink away without a trace. He was drunk. Wonderfully so.
“Mark, can I drag you away?”
He dragged his eyes away from the scene of Felipe trying to teach several drivers how to samba and turned to see Nico Rosberg looking at him with soft eyes.
“Sure, got enough anyway.” He waved his phone that he had been recording them on before slotting it into his back pocket and followed Nico into the adjoining hotel room that the German had a key for. “What can I do you for?” Mark waited for a reply but didn’t get one straight away. Nico locked the door behind him and set the lighting to hazy.
“That thing you stuck the pin in.” He eventually spoke.
“Excuse me?” He found himself crowded against the desk by Nico.
“Back at Williams, you promised me a treat when I won my first race.” His gaze was relentless.
“At Williams?” Mark tried to give himself a few moments while he racked his mind for what Nico was getting at.
“Yes, you said, when you win your first race princess I’ll give you a proper celebration.” Nico gave his best Australian accent with a crooked smile.
“Can’t remember that.” He was lying, he did vividly, the way Nico’s eyes had dilated when he made the promise had stayed with him for quite some time.
“You do.” Nico purred. “And I’ve won three times now, so I definitely deserve something.” He confidently straddled one of Mark’s leg sand rocked his hips a couple of times.
“What are you doing?” Mark gasped, it had only been a joke at the expense of the rookie.
“Getting my reward.” Nico paused and held his breath until Mark grabbed at his hips.
Nico looked so much older than the Williams years they shared together, he was all floppy boyband hair and pouts, now he was styled and chiseled but still looked like a wet dream come to life. Maybe not his particularly favourite brand but there was something about having someone so pretty rutting against his thigh that was validating. He could feel Nico harden quickly beneath the layers of denim and cotton, and letting his grip relax away to nothing he let himself become the centre of attention.
“Ja, ja, ja.” Nico groaned into Mark’s chest as his movements become more staccato. “Fuck, Mark.” He pressed himself firmly against Mark’s thigh before pulling away. “Oh gott, oh gott.” Nico panted with his hand desperately shoved down his his trousers grabbing and squeezing his own cock. Finding the bed he sprawled out on his back and jerked his hips upwards as he rode out the last of his orgasm.
Mark could do nothing more than watch him squirm and rock on the bed with his mouth open until NIco propped himself up on an elbow and smoothed his hair down. “You’re going to be missed you know.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of other…” Mark slowed to a stop at Nico’s insistent shaking head.
“No one quite like you.” Nico peeled himself off the bed elegantly and kissed Mark’s cheek. “Your cheekbones are something else.” He dragged clean fingertips down from where his lips were moments ago.
Mark dipped his head as Nico headed into the bathroom not quite believing what had just happened, Nico Rosberg had said a very unique goodbye, he couldn’t believe he thought karaoke was going to be his biggest concern. Topping that now was Nico getting off on him, and looking down on his leg he was thankfully left without a physical reminder, just his expression of ecstasy burned into his brain.
“That’s a proper celebration.” Nico winked before leaving Mark alone.
“This is where you’ve been hiding?” Jenson tutted at he poked his head around the door Nico had just exited.
“Yeah, something like that. Drink?” Now he felt he earned one.
“Good man.” Jenson patted his shoulder as Mark walked past him. “What did Nico want?”
“Uh, he was just saying goodbye.” He didn’t think Jenson would believe him if he had just said Nico had jerked off in front of him.
“Aww, that was nice of the princess.” Jenson remarked as he began mingling in with the crowd.
Mark was left to observed proceedings again, he liked that, he liked to have the opportunity to remember all of this before he got on the plane home. He had to let the fans in a little, they were unrelenting in their support and he knew they loved little snippets of behind the scenes. Bon voyage. He snapped the room, all the drivers were in front of him and he yelled ‘strike a pose’ loudly to which they all jumped to strike some manner of pose they thought hilarious.
“Mark?”
“Hey Charles.” Mark slurred lightly with a smile.
“Thanks for all of your advice.” Charles muttered.
“Pardon?” He was struggling to hear the French kid over the stereo.
“Merci, for all the advice, is very good for me to hear.” It had only been in the last couple of months that Mark had begun to speak to him properly, but after a sponsor event in Abu Dhabi they went for dinner and Mark had politely answered his questions about his life in the paddock.
“No worries mate.” Mark slapped his shoulder. “Was there something else?” Charles looked like he was holding something back.
“Non.” He paused with his lips slightly parted before turning away.
Mark shrugged and decided to find out once and for all if there was any red wine in the place, but he was stopped from doing so when the blushing face of the Frenchman turned back around.
“Umm.” His face lit up and he fled into the bathroom. “Never mind.”
Mark saw that no one was taking much notice and followed Charles into the en suite and quietly shut the door behind them. “Out with it then.” The bottle of beer Mark was holding loosely in his hand found its way onto the sink with a harsh clink that made Charles jump.
“You’re definitely leaving?”
Mark huffed a laugh. “Yeah, pretty sure of that mate.”
“Okay.”
“That it? Sure you could have said that out there.” He gestured over his shoulder, his blurry reflection in the mirror just out of the corner of his vision.
Charles took a huge breath of air in and sighed heavily out, his head tipping back to give Mark a glimpse at the faint edges of his stubble. It wasn’t until he let the alcohol seep from his bloodstream into his brain that he met Mark’s eyes. “You’re really handsome.”
“Oh, cheers.”
“...crush on you.”
“What was that?” Mark dipped his head down so he could hear what Charles said when he repeated himself.
“I’ve had the biggest crush on you.” He squeaked. “When I watched races at home I liked seeing you and when I got to see on you in the paddock it was better and now I am making an idiot out of myself.” He rubbed his hands over his face.
Mark grinned at Charles’ mumbled confession, after Nico’s brazen goodbye this was rather sweet. But that could be the drink talking. “That’s very sweet.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “Now you make fun of me. I am always sweet or cute.”
“No you’re not, racers are never sweet or cute.”
“But that is what everyone says.” He planted his hands on his hips.
“Prove that you’re not then.” Mark challenged as he picked up his drink, believing it would embarrass Charles enough so he would leave.
Charles released one hand and hesitated before taking the huge risk and following through on one of his fantasies, with Mark casually leading on the edge of the basin on one hand he pressed the flat of his palm against the fly of his jeans.
Mark choked on his mouthful of beer as the pressure on his crotch increased, for someone so small he had impressive hands and a well appointed knowledge of exactly where to touch someone else to get them hard within moments. His fingers were pulsing and stroking the tip of his cock and the heel of his hand was rubbing his length.
He felt giddy with power as Mark Webber, his go-to-middle-of-the-night-default-setting wank fantasy, was just beginning to rock his hips into his hand, his hands taut and knuckles white against the basin. But just as the thought to slip his hand into his boxers appeared someone knocked on the door. “Shit.” He chewed on his lip.
Mark watched him press his teeth into his bottom lip, they were beautifully full.
“Yo, need a piss in there, guys?”
Neither of them could figure out who it was and as Mark sent a quizzical look to Charles the French kid had unceremoniously shoved his hand down his trousers, and immediately got to work.
“Be out in a minute.” Charles shouted.
“Fucking hurry up!”
“Fuck.” Mark exhaled as Charles fingers grazed the head of his cock. He didn’t let up and for a few intense seconds he thought he would come there and then.
The sensation had disappeared and upon opening his eyes he saw Charles sucking on his fingers, pushing them in and out of his mouth. “You’ve got great taste Mark.” His soft French accent rolled over his name.
“You’re a fucking tease.” Mark swigged from his drink to recover.
“Better than sweet and cute.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he splashed some of his drink onto Mark’s shirt. “Sorry about that.” He apologised to Jean-Eric who barged past, hands already on his fly. “Spilt my drink on Mark.”
“Was that red wine?” He called after Charles after looking down at the stain.
“Oui?” He spun around to face the man he had turned on.
“I need some.” Mark ordered, hoping that it would actually reach him.
“Okay.” Charles nodded.
As Mark waited patiently for Charles to return he noticed a fuss brewing by the door, and with a distinct lack of inhibitions he wandered over to investigate.
“...not tonight...not appropriate...only cause trouble...do it some other time...he won’t...not see you...get a grip.”
“What’s going on here then?” Mark poked his head around the door to see Jenson and Sebastian in furious conversation he had only heard snatches of.
“Oh, never mind, Sebastian’s just going.” Jenson tried to wave him off and bundle Mark back into the room, but he felt Mark fight his efforts.
“It’s okay, I’ll take him back.” And with a little cajoling Jenson eventually retreated and had Mark laughing unexpectedly at the thought of him pinned to the wall watching them through the peep hole.
“What’s so funny.”
“Ah, nothing. What can I do ya for Mr World Champion? Mr four-time World Champion I should say.”
“Are you drunk?” Sebastian knew he was, it was clear from the hazy look in his eyes but he wanted the verbal confirmation nonetheless.
“Abso-fucking-lutely plastered mate.” Mark beamed. “What are you doing here, thought you’d be with Heikki.”
“Wanted to...um...say...goodbye.”
“Bye.” Mark stuck his hand out and vigorously shook Sebastian’s.
“And sorry.” He whispered under his breath as Mark took his hand back, wiping the sweat on his jeans.
“What was that?” Mark asked him to repeat himself.
Sebastian cleared his throat and tried again. “Sorry.”
“For what?” His brain wasn’t able to process why Sebastian was saying that.
“Fuji, Turkey, Silverstone, Malaysia...”
“Fucking hell Seb, tonight was supposed to be...it’s water under the bridge. Forget it.” Mark waved a hand as if to physically push the events aside before letting his eyes focus on Sebastian’s face and cocking his head to the side he spoke far too loudly for the area. “Are you crying?”
“No!” He tried to subtly wipe his eyes but Mark kept on. “ALRIGHT!” He gave in. “I don’t care if you believe me or not but I am going to miss you.” He ran his sleeve over his eyes. It was true, he was going to miss Mark, he could definitely live without the sniping and the snide comments, but he was going to miss having a driver of his calibre on the other side of the garage.
Mark laughed hard at the comment but soon reeled it in when he saw the hurt cross Sebastian’s face. “Sorry mate, but it’s pretty hard to believe that.”
“It’s true.” He pouted.
“If you insist baby Schumacher.”
“Fuck off, I’m not a baby.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“You know exactly how much Christian goes on about your age, he’s so young. Only another ten years and you’ll be stood here watching the next generation flood in, feeling veeeeeeeery old.” Mark came close to a giggle at the thought of Sebastian with a few grey hairs and complaining about the state of the sport.
“You’re fucking ancient!” Sebastian bit back.
“Hit me where it hurts then Seb.” Mark stepped forward to ruffle his hair.
“Stop it.” He shoved Mark’s hand away. “Fuck you.”
“Christs sake.” Mark muttered. “Seb, Seb wait.” He tried to assemble his limbs to jog after him but it took him a couple of seconds to send the message to his feet. “Seb!”
“What?” He really wish he hadn’t sniffed.
Mark rolled his eyes and pulled Sebastian in for a brief hug. “You’re a pain in the arse you know.” Sebastian clung onto him needily for a couple of moments before springing backwards.
“Am not.”
“I don’t think we’ve ever agreed on anything have we?”
“No.” Sebastian shook his head. “Because I’m always right.”
“Shitbag.” Mark pushed him playfully down the corridor. “Which one is your room?”
“Down there, room seven hundred and twenty one.” He pointed into the distance that seemed like the length of the hotel. “I can do it on my own.”
“Yeah, and if you fail to return to your room Marko will be after my balls and I’m quite attached to them.” He laughed. “I’m escorting you, it’ll be my last duty.” It only took Mark stepping ahead of Sebastian for it to descend into a race, Sebastian tried to barge past but Mark caught hold of his collar and got himself back in front when he yanked on it.
“You fucker!” Sebastian yelled as he flung his arms around Mark’s waist to attempt to pull him to the floor, it almost brought him to his knees and worked but he was the one who hit the busy printed carpet. Mark had grabbed his ankle and tripped him up, then as Sebastian lifted his head off the ground he saw Mark punch the air in victory.
“Seven twenty one! Nice try Vettel!” He banged the door with his fist, jumping back in shock when it opened.
“Mark?” Heikki poked his head out of the door. “What did you do to Seb?” All he could see was Sebastian sprawled on the floor looking dejected.
“Nothing, all limbs intact, ten fingers and ten toes and four championships.”
“Sebastian, are you okay?” Heikki pushed past Mark and walked down the corridor to see his driver, crossing his arms across his chest he waited for the onslaught. But it didn’t come.
“He was helping me back, we were racing…” Sebastian wasn’t sure how to explain himself.
“And I won.” With his hands now on his hips Mark allowed himself to look as smug as he felt. “Night.” As he wandered off he could hear Sebastian trying to convince Heikki that it wasn’t a murder attempt.
He knew he wasn’t walking in a straight line, and looking at the floor was helping matter either, the busy pattern made his stomach lurch. And when he drifted to the wall he slowed to a stop, he needed water and he knew that would be one thing he wouldn’t be getting if he returned to the party. Mark decided to risk the bar downstairs and made for the elevator in an unsteady fashion, laughing at himself as he went, there was no way he would get away with this. This was the sort of thing that would end up online.
Getting in the elevator regardless Mark pressed a button for a floor, but it wasn’t the one that would guarantee him water, it would probably end up in an argument. He should probably just go back to his own room, climb into bed and get on with his impending hangover, but instead he was thumping on a door hoping it was the right one.
The door swung open so violently Mark fell through into the person who was stood in the free space and sent them both flying to the floor.
“Mark?” Fernando grunted.
“Why weren’t you there?” Mark slurred.
“You are drunk.” He sighed before pushing Mark off of him so he could get back onto his feet.
“So what, you couldn’t be fucked to turn up.” He lay face down on the floor and shouted into the carpet.
Fernando returned with a large glass of water and placed it well within Mark’s grasp. “Is was not like that Mark.” With him being so drunk it allowed him to finally tell the truth, if only for one night. “I do not want to say goodbye to you, if I went I would have been too sad.” He helped Mark sit up and lean against the wall so he could drink. “I would have ruined your party, and you had fun right?”
“I beat Sebastian.”
“Yeah?” He tipped the glass up to get Mark to drink as much as he could.
“Yeah, Charles told me had a crush on me.” He hiccuped before Fernando shoved the glass under his nose again.
“Oh.” He tried to keep the pout off of his face.
“Shoved his hand down my trousers. It was weird.” He screwed his face up at the memory.
“Right.” He sharpened his tone. “Didn’t realise it was that sort of party.”
Ignoring the weird look on Fernando’s face Mark continued. “Princess was weird too, took his reward for winning. So fucking weird. Ugh.” He didn’t want to drink anymore. “Can’t drink anymore.” Mark pushed Fernando’s hand away.
“You have to, you’ll have a headache tomorrow.” He knew Mark wouldn’t pick up on his disappointed tone, he didn’t want to know what Nico had done, all it meant was that Mark found it weird. He would find him weird too, or worse someone he didn’t want to be friends with anymore.
“Have headache now.” He accepted the glass on his lips and finished the contents.
Fernando quickly darted away to fill it up again. “Here.”
“Thanks.” The water had helped enough to see Fernando wince as he sat down. “How’s your back?” He stretched his legs out before him and slouched further down the wall.
“Sore.”
“Get to bed, I should go.” Mark motioned to get up. “They’ll wonder where I am.” He wasn’t sure who he meant, Jenson and the guys were probably too drunk to notice and his parents would be asleep after the Red Bull party.
“Jenson did ask.” Fernando muttered.
“I guessed that.” Mark replied quietly.
“Is too much to say goodbye, to you, with everyone there. What they have with you is not the same as what we have.” He wriggled a little to try and get comfortable.
Mark shook his head sadly. No relationship he had with the other drivers would come close to what he had with Fernando, few other friendships he had outside the paddock matched it. It was unique, Fernando got him. Got the bad races and the victories. Got the trouble with team mates and criticism from the press. Got the missing out and having it all. The ecstasy and the agony.
Clumsily getting off the floor he staggered over to Fernando slowly, then picking up a cushion he slotted it behind his back. “Better?” He stood up and wobbled for a moment before choosing to sit beside him, in his drunken state he practically sat on him.
“Hmm.” Fernando shrugged not knowing was to say with Mark being so close.
“Going to miss you.” Mark slumped sideways and leant his head on Fernando’s shoulder.
“Me too, more than you know.” Fernando whispered knowing Mark was already asleep, so carefully extracting himself he lay Mark down on the couch and padded over to the bed to retrieve a pillow, returning to him via the wardrobe to get a blanket. Covered and warm Fernando gave himself a few moments of selfish wondering looking down at Mark’s peaceful face before returning to bed expecting Mark to be gone before he woke up.
Climbing under the covers he rubbed his cheek against his shoulder before sighing at how pathetic he was acting. Then listening to the steady breaths from the other side of the room he waited for the warmth of his bed to lull him off to sleep.
“Huh?” Fernando was brought away from his dream by the bed dipping beside him.
“Cold.” Mark shuffled under the covers with the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders.
“Mark?” Fernando turned to see Mark’s staring at him, the darkness not quite covering the shine of his eyes.
“Fernando, don’t get too friendly with Kimi.” He croaked.
“What?”
“He’s close to Sebastian.”
“Mark I don’t…” With his mind blurred by sleep and the proximity of Mark, Fernando couldn’t quite grasp his point.
“He tries to find something, tries to find a weak point, I want to see you win the title.” Mark drew closer hoping Fernando had got it by now.
Fernando was taken aback by the quietness of Mark’s voice and the vulnerability of his body language. “Okay.”
Mark brought himself closer to Fernando until their noses were practically touching. "You'll win it next year."
"Si?" He could pick up the scent of mint on Mark’s breath.
"Yeah, you're going to smash it, you're fucking awesome."
He saw Mark's face crease into a smile and his own quickly followed suit. “Yeah?”
“Course you...and you fucking know it.” Mark shoved his shoulder hard enough to send Fernando onto his back. “Sorry for earlier, if I hurt your back.”
“It’s okay, was nice having you on top…” He clamped his teeth down onto his bottom lip to stop anymore words coming out.
“Yeah, I would definitely would be on top.” Mark stretched out a little but shrunk back when his feet came into contact with the cool part of the bed.
Fernando was ready to recoil at his own words but Mark, like usual, made him feel at ease. “I would be better.”
“No way, not with that ass.” He snorted.
“Mark!” Fernando sat up.
“What? You started it mate.” He wasn’t drunk any more. “And I know something.” Maybe he was still a little drunk.
“Know what?” He squeaked unmanly.
Mark noticed Fernando’s reaction and decided to change the subject. “I’m not going to stop being your friend. You know, when I leave.”
“Right, good, that’s good.” Fernando tried to keep the emotion out of his voice but as Mark wriggled beside him he felt bare legs and chest graze the left side of his body and it sent shivers through out him.
“Bloody hope so too mate.”
Fernando couldn’t let it drop. “What do you know?” His voice wavered at the end.
“I’m not drunk.”
“Okay.” Fernando wasn’t convinced.
“I’ve got a crush.” Mishearing Fernando tried to roll away but Mark sent an arm around his waist to pull him back.
Fernando stilled and slowly turned his head to see Mark smiling at him coyly. “You…”
“It’s bit more than a crush though mate, but probably just a fantasy.” It was now or never, the season was over, there would be distance, but he knew it was worth the risk of rejection rather than never knowing.
“On Charles?” Fernando pouted.
“No.” Mark snorted with a shake of the head. “But I like Europeans, just not blondes.”
Fernando hoped Mark wouldn’t feel the heat radiating off of his face but his luck fell away when his fingertips grazed his cheek. “No?”
“I like you.”
“Me?” Fernando gasped, there was no way Mark could...no way.
“Uh...sorry...I’ll go.” Mark left the stunned Fernando laying under the covers as he carefully picked himself off the bed.
“Don’t leave me.” Fernando bit the sob back at the last moment, Mark was about to walk out of the room and he couldn’t let him go thinking he had spoken out of turn.
Mark was stopped in his tracks by Fernando’s words. “I’m sorry for what I said.”
“I like you too.” Fernando whispered, his head barely peeking out. “A lot.”
Moments later they were face to face balancing on the edge of crossing the line together, silent questions over whether they felt exactly the same passed between them but were answered with quirked lips and embarrassed glances. Needing some reassurance Fernando placed his hand over Mark’s heart and was pleased to feel it race as hard as his was, and now knowing he wasn’t alone he let his hand drift up to rest on the back of his neck.
Fernando was playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and the gentleness was making his nerves buzz. “Fernando.” His desire to bring them together was overwhelming. “I…” He dipped forward and pressed his lips to Fernando’s.
Fernando wrapped his arms around Mark’s slim waist to bring him closer but it never progressed beyond sweet suckling of lips and teasing flicks of the tongue. They both wanted more but knew now wasn’t the right time, but as sleep took them they made sincere promises to each other that this wasn’t it.
Sleep came easy and was peaceful until the light of the new day burned through the gap in the curtains, rousing them slowly they each stretched their bodies out, neither used to sharing a bed with each other before. Mark smiled at the brief snatches of last night, the kiss, the way Fernando fidgeted in his sleep and how close he liked to be. Placing a light kiss to the back of his neck Mark peeled himself out of the mutual warmth and headed into the bathroom to freshen up before the hangover thumped inside his head.
Fernando caught Mark entering the bathroom and couldn’t halt the smile spreading across his face, the kiss this morning had woken him but it was the first one they shared that played on repeat in his dreams overnight.
“Hey.” After taking a quick shower Mark entered the bedroom to see Fernando propped up on all of the pillows checking his phone.
“Hey.” He put his phone down and watched Mark stroll over to the bed.
“Hey.” Kneeling beside Fernando, Mark tested the waters and rested a hand on his forearm.
“Hey.” Fernando encouraged Mark to get back into bed properly and for another hour they simply talked, interrupting thoughts for a kiss, stopping just to look and remember.
“Is not the end.”
“No, no way mate.” The rush of adrenalin from each kiss burst over Mark in a teenage manner, all tingling senses and never wanting it to end. But he wasn’t a teenager. “I better go, my parents…”
“Of course.” Fernando understood.
“Actually I should check in on Jenson. Make sure he’s still alive.” He laughed while slipped back into last nights clothes. “You could come along, might need protection if he’s pissed at me leaving.”
Grinning broadly Fernando followed Mark’s lead and got dressed before wandering through the hotel together, in the elevator he felt brave enough to show affection. Resting a hand on the small of Mark’s back he felt him relax into the touch and for a few final seconds it was just them.
“Jense?” Mark knocked on the door and although he got an answer it wasn’t Jenson but Charles. “Oh, hello.”
“Bonjour.” He grumbled, sunglasses already on.
“Morning Charles.” Fernando barked.
“Ooh, hangover.” Charles muttered.
“That was mean.” Mark chuckled as his jealously. “And I found it weird because I don’t feel anything for him.” He reassured with his voice deliberately low.
“So if I had done what he did?” Fernando had to know.
“Completely different outcome mate. Completely different. But I prefer what we did.”
Feeling the colour rise in his face Fernando switched the focus to the reason they were here. “Let’s find Jenson.” Opening the door properly he was faced with bodies scattered across the hotel room floor, bed and doorways.
“Christ.” Mark breathed out, immediately glad to have left when he did. “It looks like a bomb went off in here.” The floor was littered with empty bottles, clothes and the banners that were once hanging on the walls, Mark spotted Jenson first sprawled over the bed tangled up with Nico in the sheets, and wrapped around them was a huge Australian flag he remembered being tied around his neck like a cape. Then came the memory of photos being taken, which would be all over twitter by now.
Fernando pointed of Jenson and Nico as his eyes found them and Mark nodded, his next spot was was the soon to be separated Toro Rosso drivers. Daniel was sat in a high-backed chair with Jean-Eric curled up on his lap, head buried in his neck Fernando sympathised with the Frenchman, he knew what it was like to have to watch someone leave.
Mark couldn’t see Romain and assumed he had gone despite wildly enjoying himself, Felipe was asleep propped up against the wall with a hand clutching an empty glass, and not long after there was a soft knock at the door Fernando answered.
“Rob.”
Mark heard the smile in Fernando’s voice as he stepped back to reveal the man he was looking for.
“What happened?”
“Jenson.”
Rob rolled his eyes with humour and nimbly navigated his way through the party debris to rouse Felipe, and Mark and Fernando watched the former Ferrari employees work together. Rob sending silent instructions and Felipe processing the tells and coordinating his body to a successful outcome, holding the door open Rob hoisted Felipe through it giving Mark a nod.
“Best of luck at Williams mate.” And with those words the room began to stir, and bundling out of the bathroom first was Nico and Paul with messy hair and red lips. Caught in the act they sprung apart and made noises about falling asleep to which Fernando laughed and Mark winked at them.
With red races they scooped their clothes up and hastily pulled them on, Paul suddenly Sauber and Nico back at Force India they jogged out of the room, leaving laughter behind them and the threat of being exposed not a worry.
Mark ambled over to the bed and tugged on Jenson’s toes which got a very odd response that had Mark hiding his mouth behind his hand.
“Yeah Nico, you know I like that.”
“Oh my god, Mark, is everyone...what were you lot drinking?” Fernando hissed against Mark’s ear.
“There was this green stuff but…” Mark stole a quick kiss that put a huge smile on Fernando’s face. And taking his phone out of his pocket he took a final photo as a Formula One driver, a floor strewn with empty bottles, streamers, part of a banner that said ‘see ya mate’, a sock and a cuddly kangaroo.
Thanks for the memories guys #keepboxing #overandout
Mark counted down from three on his fingers and Fernando knew what he wanted to do, and when he last finger curled into his palm they both shouted at the top of their voices, making Jenson and Nico jump, and Daniel deposit Jean-Eric on the floor. Then Jules popped his head out from behind the door dividing the suites, with Max and Guido in tow, they looked extremely hungover and sheepish as they moved past Fernando and Mark.
“You’re a fucking treasure Mark.” Jenson rubbed his temples.
“I know, I’m off, just wanted to make sure you’re still alive.” He smirked.
“No thanks to you.”
“You organised this.” Mark moved out of the way of a staggering Nico. “So thanks, I had an amazing time. I really did.”
“Yeah Nico told me.” He grinned wickedly.
“Don’t remember mate, I was drunk.” Mark shook his head. “And that wasn’t what I was getting at. See ya around buddy.” He left a dishevelled Jenson behind to foot the bill and clear the mess.
His room wasn’t on the floor he pressed the button for.
“Mark, this isn’t your floor.”
“I know.” He ushered Fernando towards the room they shared last night and once inside he pulled him close for a hug. “I was a little bit drunk when we kissed, but it didn’t mean I didn’t want to.” Kissing him again Mark made sure Fernando knew how much he was going to miss him, cradling his head his fingers gently tugged on his hair. “I’m not drunk now.” He mumbled, their lips still touching.
“Good.” Fernando sighed, relieved.
“And I won’t be drunk next time, if there’s a next time.” Hope didn’t cover how much he wanted there to be a next time.
“I want one for every point I score.”
“Deal.”
Pairings: Webber/Alonso, Webber/Rosberg, Webber/Pic, Ricciardo/Vergne, Hulkenberg/di Resta
Ratings: Blue flag (light blue)
Summary: Mark's leaving party gets... a little out of hand.
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen.
“This better not be a leaving party.” Mark called to the man jogging towards him.
“As if mate, we’re glad you’re going to be honest.” Jenson grinned as he slapped his shoulder. “Your ability to grow a beard in sixty seconds makes us look less manly.” He laughed loudly in the bustling paddock of the Interlagos circuit, team personnel from up and down the grid were fighting to pack up before they could indulge in a post-season drink and the par of drivers were quickly herded between the Red Bull motorhomes.
Mark lay a hand on the metal panel and sighed quietly, the purple paint job made him chuckle at the beginning of the year but he wasn’t sorry to leave it behind, it wasn’t his colour.
“You going to miss it?”
“Here?” He nodded towards the Energy Station. “Or here.” He gestured out into the paddock.”
“All of it.”
“Yeah, suppose. Racing against you guys yeah, but all the other shit, no.”
Jenson grinned with a little sadness, it was the right time for Mark to leave, there was no point in getting to grips with the new game if he was planning to leave anyway. And winning Le Mans was another blue ribbon race he could add to his CV. “Surprised to hear you say that.” He replied sardonically. “Coast is clear, let’s go.”
They wandered between forklifts, tyre trolleys and mechanics, cameras, journalists and guests waved and offered well wishes and a range of items to be signed. Mark was expecting everything to be tinged with sadness, but the feeling never arose and his heart only thumped to an excited rhythm. His career wasn’t over, far from it, the opportunity to race on his own terms and be part of a team that raced fair was laid out in front of him.
He had no doubt what he was letting himself in for, he loved that Jenson thought he was being masterful in hiding the party but the skip in his step and constant checks of his phone gave him away. But for Jenson there wasn’t a part of Mark that was going to spoil it, even though he hated the idea.
So when Jenson offered him a lift back to the hotel for the first time in a very long while he didn’t question it, he thanked him and said it would be great. He was happy to ignore the party but he was struggling to let the sad looks escape. “Jense, stop looking at me like I’m dying.” He snorted.
“But you kinda are, Mark Webber the Formula One driver is no more!”
“Could you be any more dramatic?”
“I could throw myself out of the car?” Jenson tapped the window.
“If it would stop the sad looks then go ahead mate. I’m ready for this.” He lightly punched Jenson in the arm.
Jenson took the hint and kept his eyes on the road, only averting his gaze to exchange small talk until they reached the hotel. He knew Mark was aware of what was going on, no one lasts this long at the top of a sport without having great instincts, so he was grateful when Mark thanked him for the lift and walked away from him.
“Mark, feel like a drink? Surely you deserve one.” Jenson attempted his best impression of coy.
“Alright.” Mark purposely headed towards the open bar area.
“Not that way” Jenson tutted and corralled him into an elevator before hiding the button he pressed, forgetting the display. “Just in here mate.” Jenson half shouted and Mark was forced to suppress a smile as he pushed the door open, but he released it when he saw the contents. The room was decorated with a substantial number of banners that ranged from bon voyage to a light hearted good riddance.
“I hate you.” Mark hissed under his breath before plastering a grin on his face to thank everyone for turning up, and to make it look like he was surprised.
“Right then guys, let’s give Mark a proper send off!” Jenson shouted and despite the end of season fatigue definitely having set in the music was switched on and everyone migrated to the makeshift bar, an assortment of bottle strewn across the large desk. “And you don’t hate me” He spoke under his breath. “Secretly you’re very glad that so many people turned up without me having to threaten them.”
“Fuck off.” Mark grinned with an unwelcome blush spreading across his face. He really didn’t want a fuss at all, he warned the team but they just set up competitions and wheeled out a video of his highlights, the British media had their own videos as well as the Aussie network and by the end he felt exhausted. He would have quite happily swiped out of the paddock and never looked back.
Mark was handed drink after drink, unable to get to the table to get a drink he actually wanted he had to make do with bottle after bottle of beer, until he could find somewhere to stash them. He had been given so many he stopped feeling sorry for the large plant he was poisoning by tipping the liquid into the large terracotta pot.
He had spent enough time in the room to see who wasn’t here, and he far from surprised to see that Sebastian wasn’t there, Lewis had made a flying visit and a couple of the rookies had wished him good luck during the weekend itself. But there was one notable absence that he wasn’t going to acknowledge while he was this sober.
“Karaoke time!”
He could tell it was Jenson’s voice and hearing the terror word he shrunk back, but plied with a copious amount of alcohol Jenson didn’t notice and within a few moments Waltzing Matilda was blaring out of the portable sound system. Taking his phone out of his pocket Mark videoed Jenson, Felipe and Romain warbled tonelessly through the song, he was already composing the tweet that would accompany it.
It wasn’t long until he allowed himself to relax, everyone seemed to be having a good enough time, although he felt sorry for anyone on the same floor as them, the karaoke seemed to be getting louder and more out of tune. Jenson was definitely enjoying his time as the ringleader, and Mark couldn’t deny he knew how to put people in a good mood. Especially Felipe.
“Sorry for ruining your song.”
“It’s okay Felipe, you did better than I could.” Mark laughed as he failed to resist yet another drink, this time it was some sort of spirit with coke. “How are you anyway?” They drifted to the edge of the room with the Brazilian.
“Okay, is not ideal, I think...wish it could have been on my own terms.”
“That’s why I chose to go, it was the right time for me. But Williams will be a good fit for you?” Mark saw Felipe nod his head and a smile began to spread across his lips. He just hoped he would have a better time there than he did, heart over head or something like that landed him there, he thought he could be the one to send them stratospheric once more.
“I want to prove I am not just there to be support someone else, you know?” He sipped at his beer.
“I can see where you’re coming from mate.” Mark let out a sour laugh. “But you won’t be remembered for that, you won the championship.” He heard a derisive snort. “Even if it was for a few seconds, you still did, some never even get close enough to be a contender. You did.”
Felipe sighed. “Maybe.” He never understood why Mark could always unearth a silver lining from somewhere, he had heard him chatting with the younger drivers after a bad race and he was the same. “You’ll be missed.” Felipe grabbed his shoulder to make sure he had heard.
“Cheers mate, keep boxing.” It seemed unfair that he had been squeezed out of Ferrari, but that was the game they played.
Felipe smiled at Mark’s words and tapped the bottom his his bottle of beer against Mark’s glass and left to rejoin the karaoke.
He stayed on the sidelines for a little while longer and observed the faces he wasn’t going to be seeing for much longer, his first season seemed so long ago, he was so green back then even though he felt ready for Formula One. Now he was being referred to as the elder statesman like he used a rocking chair and stroked a long white beard when telling stories to the rookies.
“Hello.”
He was handed something bright blue this time, and now he could feel the affects of the mouthfuls of alcohol he had taken to be polite. “Alright Romain, no need to apologise for butchering the song, Felipe got there before you.”
“Oh, I thought I did quite well.” Romain pouted comically with arms crossed over his chest.
“Stick to the day job mate.” Mark grinned broadly.
“I think I will, not much of a nutcase now.” Romain laughed loudly.
“Searching for a few compliments are we?” He arched an eyebrow.
“I know I am better, took long enough.” Romain smiled sheepishly.
“Keep an eye on Nico though, he’s no slouch.”
“Oui, but I am number one.” He puffed out his chest a little.
“Watch yourself.” Mark warned.
“It is the only place, at home Sacha and Marion come first every time!” Romain raised his glass of wine to Mark and gave an appreciative nod.
Now he knew there was wine floating about Mark was hoping there was a half decent red in the mix but before he could search through all the opened and half empty bottles Jenson was calling the shots again. “Time for a game!”
Mark rolled his eyes internally and turned with everyone else to watch Jenson clamber onto the bed unsteadily, balancing with his arms outstretched until he was settled. “The game is all about our dear, departing Mark Webber.” He gestured to him which prompted everyone to raise their glasses and bottle noisily in his direction. “You must stand upon the stage here and give your best impression, and we shall judge, success will bring rewards and failure will get you a massive drink of this!” Jenson held a large bottle of lurid green liquid aloft to a round of cheers. “I’ll go first!”
Jenson bounced on the bed a couple of times and did the iconic top of the podium pose to a round of applause quickly followed by a chant of ‘drink, drink, drink.’ Mark soon realised everyone would be drinking, and considering what he was about to witness he thought it would be a great idea to join in. Romain was up next and did a very French version of the ‘not bad for a number two driver’. Felipe spouted off a list of Australianisms in an atrocious accent that had everyone rolling about in laughter. Daniel and Jean-Eric did a collaborative effort of demonstrating Fuji where Daniel played Mark throwing up in a helmet and Jean-Eric playing Sebastian pushed him onto the bed and rubbed his eyes.
By now the drink was flowing freely and Mark was definitely feeling the buzz, and was finally enjoying himself. Nico Hulkenberg and Paul di Resta rounded on Mark. “Taxi for Webber?” They bowed before hoisting him onto their shoulders and all Mark could do was laugh, two of the tallest drivers had him touching the ceiling.
“I said impressions not a fucking highlights package!” Jenson wailed as he thrust the bottle at Nico who passed it onto Paul after a huge mouthful.
“Me next then.” Nico Rosberg leapt onto the bed and simply put his hands on his hips. “I’m super Mark.” He explained the round of question faces. “Don’t lie, we’ve all seen the photos.”
“I’m a Canberra kid!”
Mark's focus was pulled back to the speakers, Jenson had clearly gotten bored of how his game was playing out and his alcohol fuelled brain had decided that the highlights package was exactly on the money.
“Jenson, no!” Mark was trying to his hardest to stop it, but the last drink had sent him over the edge. He found himself with his arms around Daniel and Romain’s shoulders singing along to the words to advert he recorded years ago. What was making him laugh was that all the drivers knew the words. Every single one.
In a way it made him appreciate Jenson all the more, they had been through a hell of a lot together, suffered the horror of the back of the grid and tasted the unique flavour of glory. Although Jenson got one over him on that front, but he wasn’t bitter; right place, right time, and he almost squeezed himself into that category. Steeling himself against such thoughts Mark let the large reserve of alcohol finally flood his system, whatever emotion was burning below the surface was muddied well enough to sink away without a trace. He was drunk. Wonderfully so.
“Mark, can I drag you away?”
He dragged his eyes away from the scene of Felipe trying to teach several drivers how to samba and turned to see Nico Rosberg looking at him with soft eyes.
“Sure, got enough anyway.” He waved his phone that he had been recording them on before slotting it into his back pocket and followed Nico into the adjoining hotel room that the German had a key for. “What can I do you for?” Mark waited for a reply but didn’t get one straight away. Nico locked the door behind him and set the lighting to hazy.
“That thing you stuck the pin in.” He eventually spoke.
“Excuse me?” He found himself crowded against the desk by Nico.
“Back at Williams, you promised me a treat when I won my first race.” His gaze was relentless.
“At Williams?” Mark tried to give himself a few moments while he racked his mind for what Nico was getting at.
“Yes, you said, when you win your first race princess I’ll give you a proper celebration.” Nico gave his best Australian accent with a crooked smile.
“Can’t remember that.” He was lying, he did vividly, the way Nico’s eyes had dilated when he made the promise had stayed with him for quite some time.
“You do.” Nico purred. “And I’ve won three times now, so I definitely deserve something.” He confidently straddled one of Mark’s leg sand rocked his hips a couple of times.
“What are you doing?” Mark gasped, it had only been a joke at the expense of the rookie.
“Getting my reward.” Nico paused and held his breath until Mark grabbed at his hips.
Nico looked so much older than the Williams years they shared together, he was all floppy boyband hair and pouts, now he was styled and chiseled but still looked like a wet dream come to life. Maybe not his particularly favourite brand but there was something about having someone so pretty rutting against his thigh that was validating. He could feel Nico harden quickly beneath the layers of denim and cotton, and letting his grip relax away to nothing he let himself become the centre of attention.
“Ja, ja, ja.” Nico groaned into Mark’s chest as his movements become more staccato. “Fuck, Mark.” He pressed himself firmly against Mark’s thigh before pulling away. “Oh gott, oh gott.” Nico panted with his hand desperately shoved down his his trousers grabbing and squeezing his own cock. Finding the bed he sprawled out on his back and jerked his hips upwards as he rode out the last of his orgasm.
Mark could do nothing more than watch him squirm and rock on the bed with his mouth open until NIco propped himself up on an elbow and smoothed his hair down. “You’re going to be missed you know.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of other…” Mark slowed to a stop at Nico’s insistent shaking head.
“No one quite like you.” Nico peeled himself off the bed elegantly and kissed Mark’s cheek. “Your cheekbones are something else.” He dragged clean fingertips down from where his lips were moments ago.
Mark dipped his head as Nico headed into the bathroom not quite believing what had just happened, Nico Rosberg had said a very unique goodbye, he couldn’t believe he thought karaoke was going to be his biggest concern. Topping that now was Nico getting off on him, and looking down on his leg he was thankfully left without a physical reminder, just his expression of ecstasy burned into his brain.
“That’s a proper celebration.” Nico winked before leaving Mark alone.
“This is where you’ve been hiding?” Jenson tutted at he poked his head around the door Nico had just exited.
“Yeah, something like that. Drink?” Now he felt he earned one.
“Good man.” Jenson patted his shoulder as Mark walked past him. “What did Nico want?”
“Uh, he was just saying goodbye.” He didn’t think Jenson would believe him if he had just said Nico had jerked off in front of him.
“Aww, that was nice of the princess.” Jenson remarked as he began mingling in with the crowd.
Mark was left to observed proceedings again, he liked that, he liked to have the opportunity to remember all of this before he got on the plane home. He had to let the fans in a little, they were unrelenting in their support and he knew they loved little snippets of behind the scenes. Bon voyage. He snapped the room, all the drivers were in front of him and he yelled ‘strike a pose’ loudly to which they all jumped to strike some manner of pose they thought hilarious.
“Mark?”
“Hey Charles.” Mark slurred lightly with a smile.
“Thanks for all of your advice.” Charles muttered.
“Pardon?” He was struggling to hear the French kid over the stereo.
“Merci, for all the advice, is very good for me to hear.” It had only been in the last couple of months that Mark had begun to speak to him properly, but after a sponsor event in Abu Dhabi they went for dinner and Mark had politely answered his questions about his life in the paddock.
“No worries mate.” Mark slapped his shoulder. “Was there something else?” Charles looked like he was holding something back.
“Non.” He paused with his lips slightly parted before turning away.
Mark shrugged and decided to find out once and for all if there was any red wine in the place, but he was stopped from doing so when the blushing face of the Frenchman turned back around.
“Umm.” His face lit up and he fled into the bathroom. “Never mind.”
Mark saw that no one was taking much notice and followed Charles into the en suite and quietly shut the door behind them. “Out with it then.” The bottle of beer Mark was holding loosely in his hand found its way onto the sink with a harsh clink that made Charles jump.
“You’re definitely leaving?”
Mark huffed a laugh. “Yeah, pretty sure of that mate.”
“Okay.”
“That it? Sure you could have said that out there.” He gestured over his shoulder, his blurry reflection in the mirror just out of the corner of his vision.
Charles took a huge breath of air in and sighed heavily out, his head tipping back to give Mark a glimpse at the faint edges of his stubble. It wasn’t until he let the alcohol seep from his bloodstream into his brain that he met Mark’s eyes. “You’re really handsome.”
“Oh, cheers.”
“...crush on you.”
“What was that?” Mark dipped his head down so he could hear what Charles said when he repeated himself.
“I’ve had the biggest crush on you.” He squeaked. “When I watched races at home I liked seeing you and when I got to see on you in the paddock it was better and now I am making an idiot out of myself.” He rubbed his hands over his face.
Mark grinned at Charles’ mumbled confession, after Nico’s brazen goodbye this was rather sweet. But that could be the drink talking. “That’s very sweet.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “Now you make fun of me. I am always sweet or cute.”
“No you’re not, racers are never sweet or cute.”
“But that is what everyone says.” He planted his hands on his hips.
“Prove that you’re not then.” Mark challenged as he picked up his drink, believing it would embarrass Charles enough so he would leave.
Charles released one hand and hesitated before taking the huge risk and following through on one of his fantasies, with Mark casually leading on the edge of the basin on one hand he pressed the flat of his palm against the fly of his jeans.
Mark choked on his mouthful of beer as the pressure on his crotch increased, for someone so small he had impressive hands and a well appointed knowledge of exactly where to touch someone else to get them hard within moments. His fingers were pulsing and stroking the tip of his cock and the heel of his hand was rubbing his length.
He felt giddy with power as Mark Webber, his go-to-middle-of-the-night-default-setting wank fantasy, was just beginning to rock his hips into his hand, his hands taut and knuckles white against the basin. But just as the thought to slip his hand into his boxers appeared someone knocked on the door. “Shit.” He chewed on his lip.
Mark watched him press his teeth into his bottom lip, they were beautifully full.
“Yo, need a piss in there, guys?”
Neither of them could figure out who it was and as Mark sent a quizzical look to Charles the French kid had unceremoniously shoved his hand down his trousers, and immediately got to work.
“Be out in a minute.” Charles shouted.
“Fucking hurry up!”
“Fuck.” Mark exhaled as Charles fingers grazed the head of his cock. He didn’t let up and for a few intense seconds he thought he would come there and then.
The sensation had disappeared and upon opening his eyes he saw Charles sucking on his fingers, pushing them in and out of his mouth. “You’ve got great taste Mark.” His soft French accent rolled over his name.
“You’re a fucking tease.” Mark swigged from his drink to recover.
“Better than sweet and cute.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he splashed some of his drink onto Mark’s shirt. “Sorry about that.” He apologised to Jean-Eric who barged past, hands already on his fly. “Spilt my drink on Mark.”
“Was that red wine?” He called after Charles after looking down at the stain.
“Oui?” He spun around to face the man he had turned on.
“I need some.” Mark ordered, hoping that it would actually reach him.
“Okay.” Charles nodded.
As Mark waited patiently for Charles to return he noticed a fuss brewing by the door, and with a distinct lack of inhibitions he wandered over to investigate.
“...not tonight...not appropriate...only cause trouble...do it some other time...he won’t...not see you...get a grip.”
“What’s going on here then?” Mark poked his head around the door to see Jenson and Sebastian in furious conversation he had only heard snatches of.
“Oh, never mind, Sebastian’s just going.” Jenson tried to wave him off and bundle Mark back into the room, but he felt Mark fight his efforts.
“It’s okay, I’ll take him back.” And with a little cajoling Jenson eventually retreated and had Mark laughing unexpectedly at the thought of him pinned to the wall watching them through the peep hole.
“What’s so funny.”
“Ah, nothing. What can I do ya for Mr World Champion? Mr four-time World Champion I should say.”
“Are you drunk?” Sebastian knew he was, it was clear from the hazy look in his eyes but he wanted the verbal confirmation nonetheless.
“Abso-fucking-lutely plastered mate.” Mark beamed. “What are you doing here, thought you’d be with Heikki.”
“Wanted to...um...say...goodbye.”
“Bye.” Mark stuck his hand out and vigorously shook Sebastian’s.
“And sorry.” He whispered under his breath as Mark took his hand back, wiping the sweat on his jeans.
“What was that?” Mark asked him to repeat himself.
Sebastian cleared his throat and tried again. “Sorry.”
“For what?” His brain wasn’t able to process why Sebastian was saying that.
“Fuji, Turkey, Silverstone, Malaysia...”
“Fucking hell Seb, tonight was supposed to be...it’s water under the bridge. Forget it.” Mark waved a hand as if to physically push the events aside before letting his eyes focus on Sebastian’s face and cocking his head to the side he spoke far too loudly for the area. “Are you crying?”
“No!” He tried to subtly wipe his eyes but Mark kept on. “ALRIGHT!” He gave in. “I don’t care if you believe me or not but I am going to miss you.” He ran his sleeve over his eyes. It was true, he was going to miss Mark, he could definitely live without the sniping and the snide comments, but he was going to miss having a driver of his calibre on the other side of the garage.
Mark laughed hard at the comment but soon reeled it in when he saw the hurt cross Sebastian’s face. “Sorry mate, but it’s pretty hard to believe that.”
“It’s true.” He pouted.
“If you insist baby Schumacher.”
“Fuck off, I’m not a baby.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“You know exactly how much Christian goes on about your age, he’s so young. Only another ten years and you’ll be stood here watching the next generation flood in, feeling veeeeeeeery old.” Mark came close to a giggle at the thought of Sebastian with a few grey hairs and complaining about the state of the sport.
“You’re fucking ancient!” Sebastian bit back.
“Hit me where it hurts then Seb.” Mark stepped forward to ruffle his hair.
“Stop it.” He shoved Mark’s hand away. “Fuck you.”
“Christs sake.” Mark muttered. “Seb, Seb wait.” He tried to assemble his limbs to jog after him but it took him a couple of seconds to send the message to his feet. “Seb!”
“What?” He really wish he hadn’t sniffed.
Mark rolled his eyes and pulled Sebastian in for a brief hug. “You’re a pain in the arse you know.” Sebastian clung onto him needily for a couple of moments before springing backwards.
“Am not.”
“I don’t think we’ve ever agreed on anything have we?”
“No.” Sebastian shook his head. “Because I’m always right.”
“Shitbag.” Mark pushed him playfully down the corridor. “Which one is your room?”
“Down there, room seven hundred and twenty one.” He pointed into the distance that seemed like the length of the hotel. “I can do it on my own.”
“Yeah, and if you fail to return to your room Marko will be after my balls and I’m quite attached to them.” He laughed. “I’m escorting you, it’ll be my last duty.” It only took Mark stepping ahead of Sebastian for it to descend into a race, Sebastian tried to barge past but Mark caught hold of his collar and got himself back in front when he yanked on it.
“You fucker!” Sebastian yelled as he flung his arms around Mark’s waist to attempt to pull him to the floor, it almost brought him to his knees and worked but he was the one who hit the busy printed carpet. Mark had grabbed his ankle and tripped him up, then as Sebastian lifted his head off the ground he saw Mark punch the air in victory.
“Seven twenty one! Nice try Vettel!” He banged the door with his fist, jumping back in shock when it opened.
“Mark?” Heikki poked his head out of the door. “What did you do to Seb?” All he could see was Sebastian sprawled on the floor looking dejected.
“Nothing, all limbs intact, ten fingers and ten toes and four championships.”
“Sebastian, are you okay?” Heikki pushed past Mark and walked down the corridor to see his driver, crossing his arms across his chest he waited for the onslaught. But it didn’t come.
“He was helping me back, we were racing…” Sebastian wasn’t sure how to explain himself.
“And I won.” With his hands now on his hips Mark allowed himself to look as smug as he felt. “Night.” As he wandered off he could hear Sebastian trying to convince Heikki that it wasn’t a murder attempt.
He knew he wasn’t walking in a straight line, and looking at the floor was helping matter either, the busy pattern made his stomach lurch. And when he drifted to the wall he slowed to a stop, he needed water and he knew that would be one thing he wouldn’t be getting if he returned to the party. Mark decided to risk the bar downstairs and made for the elevator in an unsteady fashion, laughing at himself as he went, there was no way he would get away with this. This was the sort of thing that would end up online.
Getting in the elevator regardless Mark pressed a button for a floor, but it wasn’t the one that would guarantee him water, it would probably end up in an argument. He should probably just go back to his own room, climb into bed and get on with his impending hangover, but instead he was thumping on a door hoping it was the right one.
The door swung open so violently Mark fell through into the person who was stood in the free space and sent them both flying to the floor.
“Mark?” Fernando grunted.
“Why weren’t you there?” Mark slurred.
“You are drunk.” He sighed before pushing Mark off of him so he could get back onto his feet.
“So what, you couldn’t be fucked to turn up.” He lay face down on the floor and shouted into the carpet.
Fernando returned with a large glass of water and placed it well within Mark’s grasp. “Is was not like that Mark.” With him being so drunk it allowed him to finally tell the truth, if only for one night. “I do not want to say goodbye to you, if I went I would have been too sad.” He helped Mark sit up and lean against the wall so he could drink. “I would have ruined your party, and you had fun right?”
“I beat Sebastian.”
“Yeah?” He tipped the glass up to get Mark to drink as much as he could.
“Yeah, Charles told me had a crush on me.” He hiccuped before Fernando shoved the glass under his nose again.
“Oh.” He tried to keep the pout off of his face.
“Shoved his hand down my trousers. It was weird.” He screwed his face up at the memory.
“Right.” He sharpened his tone. “Didn’t realise it was that sort of party.”
Ignoring the weird look on Fernando’s face Mark continued. “Princess was weird too, took his reward for winning. So fucking weird. Ugh.” He didn’t want to drink anymore. “Can’t drink anymore.” Mark pushed Fernando’s hand away.
“You have to, you’ll have a headache tomorrow.” He knew Mark wouldn’t pick up on his disappointed tone, he didn’t want to know what Nico had done, all it meant was that Mark found it weird. He would find him weird too, or worse someone he didn’t want to be friends with anymore.
“Have headache now.” He accepted the glass on his lips and finished the contents.
Fernando quickly darted away to fill it up again. “Here.”
“Thanks.” The water had helped enough to see Fernando wince as he sat down. “How’s your back?” He stretched his legs out before him and slouched further down the wall.
“Sore.”
“Get to bed, I should go.” Mark motioned to get up. “They’ll wonder where I am.” He wasn’t sure who he meant, Jenson and the guys were probably too drunk to notice and his parents would be asleep after the Red Bull party.
“Jenson did ask.” Fernando muttered.
“I guessed that.” Mark replied quietly.
“Is too much to say goodbye, to you, with everyone there. What they have with you is not the same as what we have.” He wriggled a little to try and get comfortable.
Mark shook his head sadly. No relationship he had with the other drivers would come close to what he had with Fernando, few other friendships he had outside the paddock matched it. It was unique, Fernando got him. Got the bad races and the victories. Got the trouble with team mates and criticism from the press. Got the missing out and having it all. The ecstasy and the agony.
Clumsily getting off the floor he staggered over to Fernando slowly, then picking up a cushion he slotted it behind his back. “Better?” He stood up and wobbled for a moment before choosing to sit beside him, in his drunken state he practically sat on him.
“Hmm.” Fernando shrugged not knowing was to say with Mark being so close.
“Going to miss you.” Mark slumped sideways and leant his head on Fernando’s shoulder.
“Me too, more than you know.” Fernando whispered knowing Mark was already asleep, so carefully extracting himself he lay Mark down on the couch and padded over to the bed to retrieve a pillow, returning to him via the wardrobe to get a blanket. Covered and warm Fernando gave himself a few moments of selfish wondering looking down at Mark’s peaceful face before returning to bed expecting Mark to be gone before he woke up.
Climbing under the covers he rubbed his cheek against his shoulder before sighing at how pathetic he was acting. Then listening to the steady breaths from the other side of the room he waited for the warmth of his bed to lull him off to sleep.
“Huh?” Fernando was brought away from his dream by the bed dipping beside him.
“Cold.” Mark shuffled under the covers with the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders.
“Mark?” Fernando turned to see Mark’s staring at him, the darkness not quite covering the shine of his eyes.
“Fernando, don’t get too friendly with Kimi.” He croaked.
“What?”
“He’s close to Sebastian.”
“Mark I don’t…” With his mind blurred by sleep and the proximity of Mark, Fernando couldn’t quite grasp his point.
“He tries to find something, tries to find a weak point, I want to see you win the title.” Mark drew closer hoping Fernando had got it by now.
Fernando was taken aback by the quietness of Mark’s voice and the vulnerability of his body language. “Okay.”
Mark brought himself closer to Fernando until their noses were practically touching. "You'll win it next year."
"Si?" He could pick up the scent of mint on Mark’s breath.
"Yeah, you're going to smash it, you're fucking awesome."
He saw Mark's face crease into a smile and his own quickly followed suit. “Yeah?”
“Course you...and you fucking know it.” Mark shoved his shoulder hard enough to send Fernando onto his back. “Sorry for earlier, if I hurt your back.”
“It’s okay, was nice having you on top…” He clamped his teeth down onto his bottom lip to stop anymore words coming out.
“Yeah, I would definitely would be on top.” Mark stretched out a little but shrunk back when his feet came into contact with the cool part of the bed.
Fernando was ready to recoil at his own words but Mark, like usual, made him feel at ease. “I would be better.”
“No way, not with that ass.” He snorted.
“Mark!” Fernando sat up.
“What? You started it mate.” He wasn’t drunk any more. “And I know something.” Maybe he was still a little drunk.
“Know what?” He squeaked unmanly.
Mark noticed Fernando’s reaction and decided to change the subject. “I’m not going to stop being your friend. You know, when I leave.”
“Right, good, that’s good.” Fernando tried to keep the emotion out of his voice but as Mark wriggled beside him he felt bare legs and chest graze the left side of his body and it sent shivers through out him.
“Bloody hope so too mate.”
Fernando couldn’t let it drop. “What do you know?” His voice wavered at the end.
“I’m not drunk.”
“Okay.” Fernando wasn’t convinced.
“I’ve got a crush.” Mishearing Fernando tried to roll away but Mark sent an arm around his waist to pull him back.
Fernando stilled and slowly turned his head to see Mark smiling at him coyly. “You…”
“It’s bit more than a crush though mate, but probably just a fantasy.” It was now or never, the season was over, there would be distance, but he knew it was worth the risk of rejection rather than never knowing.
“On Charles?” Fernando pouted.
“No.” Mark snorted with a shake of the head. “But I like Europeans, just not blondes.”
Fernando hoped Mark wouldn’t feel the heat radiating off of his face but his luck fell away when his fingertips grazed his cheek. “No?”
“I like you.”
“Me?” Fernando gasped, there was no way Mark could...no way.
“Uh...sorry...I’ll go.” Mark left the stunned Fernando laying under the covers as he carefully picked himself off the bed.
“Don’t leave me.” Fernando bit the sob back at the last moment, Mark was about to walk out of the room and he couldn’t let him go thinking he had spoken out of turn.
Mark was stopped in his tracks by Fernando’s words. “I’m sorry for what I said.”
“I like you too.” Fernando whispered, his head barely peeking out. “A lot.”
Moments later they were face to face balancing on the edge of crossing the line together, silent questions over whether they felt exactly the same passed between them but were answered with quirked lips and embarrassed glances. Needing some reassurance Fernando placed his hand over Mark’s heart and was pleased to feel it race as hard as his was, and now knowing he wasn’t alone he let his hand drift up to rest on the back of his neck.
Fernando was playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and the gentleness was making his nerves buzz. “Fernando.” His desire to bring them together was overwhelming. “I…” He dipped forward and pressed his lips to Fernando’s.
Fernando wrapped his arms around Mark’s slim waist to bring him closer but it never progressed beyond sweet suckling of lips and teasing flicks of the tongue. They both wanted more but knew now wasn’t the right time, but as sleep took them they made sincere promises to each other that this wasn’t it.
Sleep came easy and was peaceful until the light of the new day burned through the gap in the curtains, rousing them slowly they each stretched their bodies out, neither used to sharing a bed with each other before. Mark smiled at the brief snatches of last night, the kiss, the way Fernando fidgeted in his sleep and how close he liked to be. Placing a light kiss to the back of his neck Mark peeled himself out of the mutual warmth and headed into the bathroom to freshen up before the hangover thumped inside his head.
Fernando caught Mark entering the bathroom and couldn’t halt the smile spreading across his face, the kiss this morning had woken him but it was the first one they shared that played on repeat in his dreams overnight.
“Hey.” After taking a quick shower Mark entered the bedroom to see Fernando propped up on all of the pillows checking his phone.
“Hey.” He put his phone down and watched Mark stroll over to the bed.
“Hey.” Kneeling beside Fernando, Mark tested the waters and rested a hand on his forearm.
“Hey.” Fernando encouraged Mark to get back into bed properly and for another hour they simply talked, interrupting thoughts for a kiss, stopping just to look and remember.
“Is not the end.”
“No, no way mate.” The rush of adrenalin from each kiss burst over Mark in a teenage manner, all tingling senses and never wanting it to end. But he wasn’t a teenager. “I better go, my parents…”
“Of course.” Fernando understood.
“Actually I should check in on Jenson. Make sure he’s still alive.” He laughed while slipped back into last nights clothes. “You could come along, might need protection if he’s pissed at me leaving.”
Grinning broadly Fernando followed Mark’s lead and got dressed before wandering through the hotel together, in the elevator he felt brave enough to show affection. Resting a hand on the small of Mark’s back he felt him relax into the touch and for a few final seconds it was just them.
“Jense?” Mark knocked on the door and although he got an answer it wasn’t Jenson but Charles. “Oh, hello.”
“Bonjour.” He grumbled, sunglasses already on.
“Morning Charles.” Fernando barked.
“Ooh, hangover.” Charles muttered.
“That was mean.” Mark chuckled as his jealously. “And I found it weird because I don’t feel anything for him.” He reassured with his voice deliberately low.
“So if I had done what he did?” Fernando had to know.
“Completely different outcome mate. Completely different. But I prefer what we did.”
Feeling the colour rise in his face Fernando switched the focus to the reason they were here. “Let’s find Jenson.” Opening the door properly he was faced with bodies scattered across the hotel room floor, bed and doorways.
“Christ.” Mark breathed out, immediately glad to have left when he did. “It looks like a bomb went off in here.” The floor was littered with empty bottles, clothes and the banners that were once hanging on the walls, Mark spotted Jenson first sprawled over the bed tangled up with Nico in the sheets, and wrapped around them was a huge Australian flag he remembered being tied around his neck like a cape. Then came the memory of photos being taken, which would be all over twitter by now.
Fernando pointed of Jenson and Nico as his eyes found them and Mark nodded, his next spot was was the soon to be separated Toro Rosso drivers. Daniel was sat in a high-backed chair with Jean-Eric curled up on his lap, head buried in his neck Fernando sympathised with the Frenchman, he knew what it was like to have to watch someone leave.
Mark couldn’t see Romain and assumed he had gone despite wildly enjoying himself, Felipe was asleep propped up against the wall with a hand clutching an empty glass, and not long after there was a soft knock at the door Fernando answered.
“Rob.”
Mark heard the smile in Fernando’s voice as he stepped back to reveal the man he was looking for.
“What happened?”
“Jenson.”
Rob rolled his eyes with humour and nimbly navigated his way through the party debris to rouse Felipe, and Mark and Fernando watched the former Ferrari employees work together. Rob sending silent instructions and Felipe processing the tells and coordinating his body to a successful outcome, holding the door open Rob hoisted Felipe through it giving Mark a nod.
“Best of luck at Williams mate.” And with those words the room began to stir, and bundling out of the bathroom first was Nico and Paul with messy hair and red lips. Caught in the act they sprung apart and made noises about falling asleep to which Fernando laughed and Mark winked at them.
With red races they scooped their clothes up and hastily pulled them on, Paul suddenly Sauber and Nico back at Force India they jogged out of the room, leaving laughter behind them and the threat of being exposed not a worry.
Mark ambled over to the bed and tugged on Jenson’s toes which got a very odd response that had Mark hiding his mouth behind his hand.
“Yeah Nico, you know I like that.”
“Oh my god, Mark, is everyone...what were you lot drinking?” Fernando hissed against Mark’s ear.
“There was this green stuff but…” Mark stole a quick kiss that put a huge smile on Fernando’s face. And taking his phone out of his pocket he took a final photo as a Formula One driver, a floor strewn with empty bottles, streamers, part of a banner that said ‘see ya mate’, a sock and a cuddly kangaroo.
Thanks for the memories guys #keepboxing #overandout
Mark counted down from three on his fingers and Fernando knew what he wanted to do, and when he last finger curled into his palm they both shouted at the top of their voices, making Jenson and Nico jump, and Daniel deposit Jean-Eric on the floor. Then Jules popped his head out from behind the door dividing the suites, with Max and Guido in tow, they looked extremely hungover and sheepish as they moved past Fernando and Mark.
“You’re a fucking treasure Mark.” Jenson rubbed his temples.
“I know, I’m off, just wanted to make sure you’re still alive.” He smirked.
“No thanks to you.”
“You organised this.” Mark moved out of the way of a staggering Nico. “So thanks, I had an amazing time. I really did.”
“Yeah Nico told me.” He grinned wickedly.
“Don’t remember mate, I was drunk.” Mark shook his head. “And that wasn’t what I was getting at. See ya around buddy.” He left a dishevelled Jenson behind to foot the bill and clear the mess.
His room wasn’t on the floor he pressed the button for.
“Mark, this isn’t your floor.”
“I know.” He ushered Fernando towards the room they shared last night and once inside he pulled him close for a hug. “I was a little bit drunk when we kissed, but it didn’t mean I didn’t want to.” Kissing him again Mark made sure Fernando knew how much he was going to miss him, cradling his head his fingers gently tugged on his hair. “I’m not drunk now.” He mumbled, their lips still touching.
“Good.” Fernando sighed, relieved.
“And I won’t be drunk next time, if there’s a next time.” Hope didn’t cover how much he wanted there to be a next time.
“I want one for every point I score.”
“Deal.”