#drivef1

“I’ll miss having you around,” Sebastian said a bit too loud, but it didn’t seem to catch the attention of the cameras.

“I know,” Kimi smiled, pulling Sebastian even tighter to his side.

“Now comerce plan A for Amore” Sebastian grinned, to Kimi’s imerce enjoyment. Even if the Finn wouldn’t say it out loud, least of all to the man in question. The German’s ego was big enough as it was. They didn’t have time to continue their conversation as they were ushered to the weigh-ins and then straight to the press conference. They both paused as they walked into the room, with a final smile they bent closer so they could kiss, making the entire room fall silent, before the noise started up again almost as quickly, like nothing had happened. Both men prepared for the questions they would be asked from the floor.

“So Kimi how does it feel to take pole in your last race? Any regrets?” The journalist asked, to Kimi and Sebastian’s utter surprise.

“Regrets?” Kimi said, not sure what the journalist was on about, but not really caring much either. His career would be over in 24 hours and Ferrari’s PR team couldn’t coach him any more, not that it had worked before.

“About retiring? Or if you’d like more general do you regret any part of your career?” The journalist asked.

“No,” Kimi answered, deciding to go out the same way as he had always been in the press conferences, even if apparently the entire room had decided to ignore that two of the drivers had kissed moments before.

2: Interviews

“So Kimi, any plans for your retirement?” A journalist asked, notebook in hand.

“Spending time at home, beating Sebastian at badminton, marry him,” Kimi answered in his monotone voice, to the laughter of everyone who heard his answer. Kimi looked towards his Britta for permission to leave the interviews, she looked up with a smile.

“That’s it for today, Kimi has a race to prepare for,” she raised voice to tell them all, giving Kimi an opportunity to leave the area and go back to his hotel.

********

“Sebastian, I forgot to ask you something,” Kimi said when the younger man walked into the hotel room.

“What?” Sebastian answered, slightly worried.

“I told a journalist something, which will definitively come out at some point, so I should probably just ask you now,” Kimi explained.

“What did you say?” Sebastian asked, his worry getting stronger and stronger.

“So I had this thing planned out, I’d let you win at badminton and then when you were done celebrating I would get down on one knee and everything and say In my heart you are always a winner, I want to stay with you forever or something I hadn’t really figured that part out just yet, but the part I am sure of is this one,” Kimi rambled, looking down and fidgeting with a small box in his hands. Sebastian was staring at the older man, not sure where Kimi was going with this. “So bottom line is, will you marry me Sebastian Vettel?” Kimi asked, his voice going soft.

“… Kimi,” Sebastian started in wonder, getting down on his knees so he’d be on Kimi’s level. “Yes,” he smiled before he was ambushed by Kimi.

Hours later, Kimi looked on the floor to find the box so he could put the simple ring on Sebastian’s finger.

3: Ted’s Quali Notebook

“Kimi, look at me,” Sebastian shouted, running up to Kimi, making the Finn turn around to face Seb. “You know the thing we’ve been discussing,” he whispered in Kimi’s ear, bending close to the Finn.

“Yes.”

“Ted is over there,” Sebastian nodded towards the journalist, with a knowing smile.

Instead of answering Kimi bent down so he could kiss Sebastian, it was over in a moment and when they looked up Ted had already ended his segment and the cameras where off. Ted looked straight at them, he almost ran up to them.

“You two should be more careful, but don’t worry, we didn’t film any of it,” Ted told them, looking like he had done the two racing drivers a huge favour.

“So when I told you in the interviews yesterday that I clearly intend to spend a lot of time with Sebastian, that didn’t reach you?” Kimi asked, looking confused.

“What? That you would beat him at badminton, we all know that,” Ted answered in confusion.

“No,” Kimi answered, giving Sebastian a look, making them both turn around and walk away. Ted noticed a slight glimmer on Sebastian’s finger that he’d never seen before, maybe the German had figured out medallions in his shoe was impractical and instead had the metal melted and put on his finger?

4: Before the race

“Kimi, tell us about your emotions, now right before your last ever Formula one race,” DC asked.

“It’s normal,” Kimi answered, looking around to see where Mark and his equipment was.

“You must be feeling something,” David asked.

“No,” Kimi replied, seeing no need to change his behaviour in the media now that their relationship was thankfully ending.

As Kimi kept looking around to find Mark he noticed Sebastian who was doing an uncharacteristic move and walking away from his own Ferrari and towards Kimi’s. DC noticed, and remembering how Ted had threatened him with some very embarrassing photos that still hadn’t gotten out in the media, he quickly ended the interview and looked around to see if he could find anyone to distract them. Noticing Esteban, he jogged towards him, camera crew behind. “Hi Esteban! How are your feelings about today’s race?” He asked the moment he reached them. The driver realized what David was doing and he smiled before he started what would go down in record as the longest grid interview, ever. During his interview Esteban was confused as to why Kimi and Sebastian were looking slightly annoyed. They had saved the two drivers, yet again, from outing themselves to the whole world.

5: After the podium

“Kimi, I’m so proud of you!” Sebastian smiled when Kimi walked out of the press conference. “How can you retire now, you won!”

“You know why, Sebastian,” Kimi answered, stepping closer to the younger man so he could put some of his weight on him. His back had never healed completely and the pain was no longer worth it, he was done racing.

“Oh, I do, I’ll miss you,” Sebastian answered, placing a kiss on Kimi’s cheek, making a journalist suddenly turn around facing the rest of the people who had been in the press conference.

“So this eagle walks into a bar..” the journalist started, trying his best to distract them all from the display Kimi and Sebastian were showing just around the corner, also wishing her mum had worked her harder on the wanting to become a stand up comedian thing, because she had no idea how this joke would end.

+1 - Sebastian’s last race

Sebastian was happy, he had won another race, and Kimi had been there to witness it, which made it even better. Smiling at Esteban, he took a final sip of his water before preparing to get on the podium, which reminded him… “Does anyone know who is doing the interviews today?” Sebastian asked, looking around, everyone shaking their heads. Seb hoped it would be DC, it was always fun when he was on the podium with them. Smiling at Esteban, they all walked towards the podium to go out when their names were called. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, but was less than a minute, Sebastian heard his own name. Running out to face his fans, he looked down at the crowd trying to find Kimi, but it was impossible to make out any faces, except Maurizio who was looking up with pride. Both his drivers had gotten on the podium, today was a good day for Ferrari. Sebastian could also make out Britta’s face. She looked just as happy as she always did but she seemed to be distracted, like she was just going through the motions. Sebastian couldn’t dwell much on that right now, he had a win to celebrate!

“And today’s podium interviews will be held by none other than our very own Kimi Räikkönen, give him a warm welcome!” They announced, making Sebastian pinch himself, did he really say Kimi? Why would Kimi voluntarily get on a podium to talk to people on purpose?

“Sebastian you won, how does that feel?” Kimi asked in an eerie reminder of DC’s questions to the Finn when he had gotten his first win back from his break in Formula 1. Sebastian still remembered Kimi’s answer and if the Finn wanted to play it like that Seb would always be there to play with.

“Not much,” Sebastian answered, mimicking Kimi’s voice, making the crowd laugh.

“Tell us, the people want to know,” Kimi continued, now grinning, making Sebastian realize they had a chance they had missed when Kimi was on the podium in his last race.

“Oh you know, slightly surprised that you didn’t tell me you would do the interviews this morning,” Sebastian answered, pouting for half a second before his grin broke through. He couldn’t believe Kimi would ever do this for him.

“You are very distracting,” Kimi stated.

“I’m distracting? I was busy preparing for a race,” Sebastian answered, letting the familiarity of their bickering calm him, even if it was happening in front of millions of people instead of Kimi’s dogs.

“Anything I can do to make it up to you?” Kimi asked, tilting his head.

Fernando was nodding, already thinking about taking a run in downtown Austin, seeing the flowers and squirrels he remembered from last year, as, from the corner of his eye, he spots a familiar form moving into the back of the garage.

Fernando jerks up, his eyes searching the crowd almost desperately, looking and looking, scanning, searching for the tall, lanky, thin, angular, handsome Australian man whom he has seen time and time again. And just like that, there he is. It is as though Fernando has conjured him, has found him. Mark Webber stands in the back of the garage, wearing headphones, long arms crossed over his thin chest, nodding and greeting the folks in the back, a single man among a large group, yet to Fernando Alonso he may as well be the only one there.

Fernando stands still, his muscles and stomach clenched, tended, frozen, watching the other driver chatting, nodding, smiling his bright, charming, dazzling smile, nodding his handsome head, his greying-brown hair curled and perfect. Fernando sees Mark’s eyes, round and bright, intent and clear, the kind of eyes that when they look at you, make you feel like you’re the only person in the whole entire world. And Mark turns slightly, a smile still on his face, and brings his eyes up, looking back at Fernando, connecting them.

Fernando blinks, pulling his eyes away and exhaling, as though pulling himself away from the sun. He nods back at his trainer, his mind now a million years away, and pulls on his sunglasses, so no one can see his wide, uncertain, unfocused gaze.

“Nando!”

Fernando freezes again, his heart pounding, blood rushing to his ears as he hears that familiar, swaying Aussie voice. He forces a smile onto his bearded cheeks, and turns, finding himself staring right back at Mark Webber, behind the protective veil of his shades.

“Amigo!” Fernando heard himself say, bringing out his hand so that they shake deeply, their touch strong and firm. Mark is grinning, searching Fernando with his clear eyes, and Fernando stiffens, forcing himself to remove the sunglasses. “What brings you to Austin?”

Mark smiles, glancing around in the way Fernando knows means Mark is about to tell a slight un-truth. “I love this place!” He responds casually. “I had to come see you enjoy it.”

Fernando smiles, wondering to himself what Mark could be trying to hide. He straightens, forcing himself to gather himself up. “Clara que si, of course. You can never resist.”

Mark glances back at Fernando, gazing back at him, looking back at Fernando with a softness that seem to polarize the Spanish man.

“No,” Mark replies softly. “I never can.”

Fernando feels his face flush, his heart pounding, and he blinks, clearing his throat and glancing around. “Ah si, yo necesito…I have…tenemos… we have work to do- PR. Press. So… I have to…”

Fernando curses himself internally for bumbling and stumbling over the words, and turns awkwardly away, as the smile falls from Mark’s face and he starts forward.

“Fernando-”

“I will see you…later.” Fernando states, turning and walking quickly away, focusing on making his steps as natural as possible, on breathing. In the McLaren garage, Mark stands stricken, as though stuck in place.

It had happened a few months ago, at the Australian Grand Prix. Fernando had finally gotten his McLaren to secure 8th place, a points finish, and the garage was smiling and upbeat and hopeful for the first time in ages. Fernando has emerged from the car feeling finally optimistic, relieved and appreciated by the sport and his team and the press and his fans. He and Jenson, who has finished 9th, had cheered with glasses of champagne in the garage and fist bumped, grinning and posing for selfies with their arms around each other an d grinning. Mark had been a guest in their garage, and he had clapped Fernando on the back, had hugged him, had poured him a glass of champagne and toasted to him- “The Spanish Lion!”. That night the team and Jenson and Mark and Fernando had gone out to celebrate. A fancy dinner with steak and caviar and white wine, and then a bar with karaoke and beers. Mark had stood with him, clasping his shoulder and partying with him the entire night, until both men where drunken and dazed. As they had stumbled from the club, high-fiving and cheering and slurring their words, Fernando had leaned forward, driven by complete loss of willpower and innate desire and lust, and pressed his lips against Mark’s, kissing him deeply. Mark had not moved, and Fernando had pulled away, and as he had looked back at the other driver he thought he had seen something in his eyes- pity or remorse, sympathy. Mark had stepped back, had hailed the nearby cab, and had worn a smile on his face as he had gestured for Fernando to climb inside and take the cab. Dumbfounded and speechless, Fernando had climbed inside and Mark had shut his door. As the taxi had pulled away, pure humiliation and shame sunk into Fernando and he had hung his head in agony, tears welling frustratingly into his eyes.

They had not spoken or seen each other since. Until now.

Fernando goes through his press. He waves at the fans and takes selfies and signs autographs. He answers simple questions and speaks in Spanish for the Latin American fans. He visits with guests, and from the corner of his eye he keeps seeing Mark, talking and charming the teams, always seeming to be looking at him. Night falls and drivers start to leave the circuit in cars. Fernando changes back into his t-shirt, jeans and leather jacket, waving goodbye to Jenson who heads out on his bike, and walks from the paddock, breathing in the warm Texan air.

“Fernando.”

Fernando looks up at the voice, and sees Mark in front of him, standing on the asphalt beneath the light of the tower in jeans and a button-down, looking back at Fernando with wide eyes and a look of slight worry.

Fernando pauses, his steps stopping, and swallows hard, color flooding his face. “Mark…”

“Nando,” Mark repeats, walking forward, up to Fernando with those clear, soft eyes, looking down shyly now. “We never got to talk about…what…”

“Is my fault,” Fernando interjects, looking away. “I apologize. I was drunk, y not thinking, and I’m sorry-”

“No,” Mark interrupts hurriedly, raising his hand. “No, I…see the real…the real reason I came here…”

Fernando’s heart is pounding his chest, blood pumping in his ears, as Mark looks up.

“The real reason I came here was for you.”

Fernando blinks, brown furrowing. “Mark, I thought-”

“That wasn’t how I wanted it to happen,” Mark says now, gazing steadily back at Fernando, his voice firm. “It wasn’t how I wanted it to go. I wanted it to be…”

Fernando stares back at him, and then Mark closes the gap between them, moving forward, grasping Fernando’s cheeks his large palms and kissing him deeply. Passionately. It is long and slow, full of yearning and desperation, of years and moments. They kiss longingly, drawing out each second, until Mark slowly pulls away, blinking back at Fernando, his gaze soft and tender.

“Te Amo,” The Australian whispers, and Fernando’s heart soars.