still tangled up in you
title: still tangled up in you
pairing:Mark Webber/Sebastian Vettel
rating: pg
prompt: wrapping up warm
disclaimer: never happened.
word count: 800
summary: They're not okay, not back to how they were before. But then again, Mark doubts they'll ever get back to that place.
notes: gift fic for lone_star_aggie who wanted fluffy Mark/Seb in the snow. well, two out of three ain't bad. also written for my promptbingo winter prompt table.
title and cut text from Staind - Tangled Up In You. thanks to pretty_panther for looking it over.
The one thing Mark's never quite gotten used to is the English winters. It's unusually cold for this time of year, made worse by the contrast to Australia.
His flight gets in later than he expected, delayed because of the snow and the cold weather, and he waits for a taxi at the airport, blowing on his hands to keep them warm. He’d brought a jacket with him in his carryon luggage, but he’d underestimated just how cold it actually was in England.
When he finally gets home, Seb's sitting on his doorstep. He's bundled up in a jacket and gloves and a hat, although thankfully, it's not the bloody Red Bull hat. As much as Mark appreciates the fact that they have to wear team gear at the races, Seb seems to love his beanies a little more than is maybe strictly necessary.
Seb looks up at him when he walks closer. 'Hello,' he says softly, biting his lip. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, but the rest of his skin seems unusually pale, even for him.
'How long have you been out here?' Mark asks instead of saying hello or doing something stupid like hugging the kid.
'An hour or two,' Seb says nonchalantly, and Mark rolls his eyes.
'It's fucking freezing,' he says, exasperated. 'It's a good job I came back when I did. Were you just going to camp out here on the off chance I was coming home soon?'
Seb smirks, standing up and brushing the snow off his legs. 'I didn't realise you cared. And of course not. I have my spies, obviously. They told me what flight you were on.'
'They didn't tell you the flight was delayed.'
Seb's still grinning as they banter. 'They’re not infallible,' he admits. 'But I'm from Germany. I live in Switzerland, remember? This is nothing.' Mark just raises an eyebrow at him shivering, and Seb laughs, conceding defeat. 'Okay, so it's fucking cold. Let me in already, yeah?'
Mark groans. 'I'd almost forgotten how fucking pushy you are,' he bitches, but there's no real heat or malice behind the words. They're... they're not okay, not back to how they were before. But then again, Mark doubts they'll ever get back to that place. But at the same time, they're moved on from the point of wishing physical violence was an option. A fact Christian is probably eternally grateful for.
A thought occurs to him as he searches for his keys, thinking back to how things were before things got out of control.
'I haven't changed the locks, you know,' Mark says, busying himself with unlocking the door so Seb can't see his face.
Behind him, Sebastian exhales heavily. 'No,' he says softly. 'I didn't want to check.'
And that's the biggest admission of weakness or uncertainty that he's going to get from Seb, but even that takes Mark aback a little. He turns around to look at the younger man, who juts his chin out defiantly.
'You'd have punched me if you came home and I was inside,' Seb says, rolling his eyes as if he's saying some undeniable truth. And maybe he does have a point, Mark thinks.
'So frostbite's preferable to a black eye?' He asks, trying to lighten the tone a little.
Seb laughs, seeming relieved for the change in conversation topic. 'Now you're catching on. Frostbite sounds better when you're telling the story anyway.'
Mark snorts, pushing the door open and carrying his bags inside. He turns around to look at Seb, still standing outside in the snow. 'Are you going to come in?' Mark asks.
There's snowflakes caught on Seb's eyelashes, melting as he stands in the doorway, his face vaguely uncertain. After a moment or two, he snaps out of it, hurrying inside and shutting the door and pulling off his gloves and coat and curls up on the sofa as Mark puts the heater on.
They order takeaway, all the foods they know they can't eat during the season, and watch DVDs until Seb's visibly struggling to stay awake.
Seb will sleep on the sofa that night, curled up under a blanket, but when he crawls into Mark's bed in the morning with cold feet and cold hands, claiming he can't sleep, Mark won't tell him to get out, even though he knows Seb just wants the comfort of touch.
When he wakes up later, afternoon sun streaming in through the window, Mark will kiss Seb on the cheek as he slowly stirs from sleep.
Things won't be perfect, and they'll fight again and next season won't be any easier than the last, but they keep going, keep learning. And maybe Seb gets a little calmer, and maybe Mark fights for preference a little less.
And maybe they won't.
pairing:Mark Webber/Sebastian Vettel
rating: pg
prompt: wrapping up warm
disclaimer: never happened.
word count: 800
summary: They're not okay, not back to how they were before. But then again, Mark doubts they'll ever get back to that place.
notes: gift fic for lone_star_aggie who wanted fluffy Mark/Seb in the snow. well, two out of three ain't bad. also written for my promptbingo winter prompt table.
title and cut text from Staind - Tangled Up In You. thanks to pretty_panther for looking it over.
The one thing Mark's never quite gotten used to is the English winters. It's unusually cold for this time of year, made worse by the contrast to Australia.
His flight gets in later than he expected, delayed because of the snow and the cold weather, and he waits for a taxi at the airport, blowing on his hands to keep them warm. He’d brought a jacket with him in his carryon luggage, but he’d underestimated just how cold it actually was in England.
When he finally gets home, Seb's sitting on his doorstep. He's bundled up in a jacket and gloves and a hat, although thankfully, it's not the bloody Red Bull hat. As much as Mark appreciates the fact that they have to wear team gear at the races, Seb seems to love his beanies a little more than is maybe strictly necessary.
Seb looks up at him when he walks closer. 'Hello,' he says softly, biting his lip. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, but the rest of his skin seems unusually pale, even for him.
'How long have you been out here?' Mark asks instead of saying hello or doing something stupid like hugging the kid.
'An hour or two,' Seb says nonchalantly, and Mark rolls his eyes.
'It's fucking freezing,' he says, exasperated. 'It's a good job I came back when I did. Were you just going to camp out here on the off chance I was coming home soon?'
Seb smirks, standing up and brushing the snow off his legs. 'I didn't realise you cared. And of course not. I have my spies, obviously. They told me what flight you were on.'
'They didn't tell you the flight was delayed.'
Seb's still grinning as they banter. 'They’re not infallible,' he admits. 'But I'm from Germany. I live in Switzerland, remember? This is nothing.' Mark just raises an eyebrow at him shivering, and Seb laughs, conceding defeat. 'Okay, so it's fucking cold. Let me in already, yeah?'
Mark groans. 'I'd almost forgotten how fucking pushy you are,' he bitches, but there's no real heat or malice behind the words. They're... they're not okay, not back to how they were before. But then again, Mark doubts they'll ever get back to that place. But at the same time, they're moved on from the point of wishing physical violence was an option. A fact Christian is probably eternally grateful for.
A thought occurs to him as he searches for his keys, thinking back to how things were before things got out of control.
'I haven't changed the locks, you know,' Mark says, busying himself with unlocking the door so Seb can't see his face.
Behind him, Sebastian exhales heavily. 'No,' he says softly. 'I didn't want to check.'
And that's the biggest admission of weakness or uncertainty that he's going to get from Seb, but even that takes Mark aback a little. He turns around to look at the younger man, who juts his chin out defiantly.
'You'd have punched me if you came home and I was inside,' Seb says, rolling his eyes as if he's saying some undeniable truth. And maybe he does have a point, Mark thinks.
'So frostbite's preferable to a black eye?' He asks, trying to lighten the tone a little.
Seb laughs, seeming relieved for the change in conversation topic. 'Now you're catching on. Frostbite sounds better when you're telling the story anyway.'
Mark snorts, pushing the door open and carrying his bags inside. He turns around to look at Seb, still standing outside in the snow. 'Are you going to come in?' Mark asks.
There's snowflakes caught on Seb's eyelashes, melting as he stands in the doorway, his face vaguely uncertain. After a moment or two, he snaps out of it, hurrying inside and shutting the door and pulling off his gloves and coat and curls up on the sofa as Mark puts the heater on.
They order takeaway, all the foods they know they can't eat during the season, and watch DVDs until Seb's visibly struggling to stay awake.
Seb will sleep on the sofa that night, curled up under a blanket, but when he crawls into Mark's bed in the morning with cold feet and cold hands, claiming he can't sleep, Mark won't tell him to get out, even though he knows Seb just wants the comfort of touch.
When he wakes up later, afternoon sun streaming in through the window, Mark will kiss Seb on the cheek as he slowly stirs from sleep.
Things won't be perfect, and they'll fight again and next season won't be any easier than the last, but they keep going, keep learning. And maybe Seb gets a little calmer, and maybe Mark fights for preference a little less.
And maybe they won't.