#lets gooooooooooooo

It had been a hot summer so far, the sun beating down on the dirt track during the day; the atmosphere was oppressive with no breeze to break it. The evenings brought cooler air which was beautiful to sit out in, but the nights were unpleasant, too hot for even a sheet. Even so, the academy rode, and Vale watched them. He advised them on their water breaks, which were more frequent at this time of the year, telling them where they were losing time and how to improve. Afterwards, they scrambled inside, racing each other and laughing like schoolboys rather than fully grown adults. Valentino wasn't sure where they got the energy from.

The evening sun was slanting through the big windows, casting the room in hues of gold. Valentino was sitting on one of the comfy sofas writing up notes from the track session. It had been a long day at the ranch, full of motorbikes and joy. The boys were changing and getting sorted for dinner, their chatter drifting down the hallway. It was comfortable, having his house full of laughter over the summer; sometimes it felt too lonely when they weren’t here.

Luca was the first one back downstairs, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. He smiled at Vale before heading into the kitchen, mind already set on food. Valentino rolled his eyes fondly and watched his brother disappear, knowing the other boys would come down soon, clamouring for a meal. They usually took turns to make dinner, fostering a sense of comradery that he was immensely proud of in his academy. Tonight was Pecco and Luca's turn; he had heard them conferring over lunch. Valentino was just thankful it was not Bez or Cele, or the kitchen might not be standing by the night’s end.

Right on cue, Bez screeched from somewhere in the house, the sound of heavy footfall following. It stopped suddenly before a round of obnoxious later exploded from the direction of the bedrooms. The running started up again, multiple people this time.

Bez came rushing through the door, clutching his phone and shouting as he did so, "Luca!! LUCA".

Pecco and Franky rushed in after him, Franky was laughing hard, whereas Pecco looked torn between confusion and amusement. Luca popped his head out of the kitchen, frowning at the commotion, "What is It Bez?", he asked. Valentino heard a harsh cuss before a thump as Bez smacked into the kitchen doorframe. It prompted the others to burst into giggles, used to Bez's clumsiness.

Bez simply thrust his phone at Luca as he pouted and rubbed his head. Valentino honestly began to consider babyproofing the house if his boys continued to act like children. As if to prove the point, Cele ran through the door at full speed, almost colliding with Pecco. He steadied the younger gently and grinned at Cele’s embarrassed smile, "Watch it piccolo", his voice was tinged with amusement as he chided him. Cele scowled at the nickname, unimpressed. Vale shook his head at them, trying to suppress his overly fond grin.

Bez was practically jumping up and down as Luca took the phone, almost yelling at him in excitement. Luca shushed him, and Bez quietened down enough that Valentino could hear rapid-fire Spanish playing from the phone’s speaker. Luca’s cheeks began to turn pink, his mouth agape as he stared at the phone in his hands. When the video ended indicated by the lack of Spanish, the whole group dissolved into laughter. Every time one of them looked back at Luca’s stunned face, they doubled over once more. Bez was gasping around his words, "fuck that's so funny. Luca’s face. Jesus, of course, he posted it like a thirst trap, classic Marquez".

Vale froze. Which brother were they talking about? And what the hell was a thirst trap? And why the hell were his boys so invested in it? His interest was piqued; he needed to see the video. He stood up and strolled into the kitchen, aiming for casual despite his racing thoughts. When he approached the group, Luca and Pecco both shot him panicked looks, the former even stepping away from Valentino. He frowned in confusion, cocking his head slightly. Well, that answered the question of which brother. Pecco had grown surprisingly close to Marc since they had been teammates, and he now avoided all conversations about the Spaniard with Valentino. It made sense, although Valentino had stopped being so publicly anti-Marc, he certainly wasn’t fond of the man. Not at all.

(Definitely not)

Valentino held his hand out to Luca, who shook his head frantically in response. It made Valentino feel like he had missed something important. Anger bubbled inside him. The others were looking between the two brothers now, uncertainty radiating off them. Valentino arched an eyebrow at Luca, who sighed but passed him the phone with a look that told him he wouldn’t like what he saw.

On the screen was a video from Alex Marquez's Instagram story. It started with Alex laughing hard with a friend, talking in rapid-fire Catalan; the only bit Vale understood was Marc’s name. The next frame showed Marc, standing shirtless as Alex gave him a box from behind the camera; the younger could be heard laughing in the background as Marc opened the gift. A rapid series of emotions crossed his face: confusion to shock, to embarrassment, before finally settling on a cocky smirk as he lifted a helmet out of the box. At first glance the helmet was normal- sleek glossy black with a dark visor. Until Marc spun it in his hands, revealing two little pieces on top. Valentino flicked his eyes up to Luca, wondering why it was so funny. He realised before Luca could say, it was funny because the helmet had cat ears. Alex had brought Marc a helmet with little ears on it as some kind of stupid joke. The Marc in the phone lifted his head to look directly at the camera, trailing his hands over the ears as he winked and simply said, "For Luca".

Valentino stared at the screen for so long that it turned black. He vaguely remembered a promotional video Luca had done for Honda last year- one where Luca had said that he would like Marc to wear this helmet. Something hot pulled in his gut. He tried to ignore it.

The boys had fallen into an awkward silence, waiting for Vale to make a move. He could not stop imagining Marc in the helmet. Marc's sharp grin when he won His eyes dark as he flipped up the visor.

Fuck.

Valentino’s voice was a little too deep and gravelly when he spoke, "he will look ridiculous". He could only hope they didn't notice. He almost chucked the phone back at Luca, fleeing the scene. Behind him, the boys stared in bemusement, only Luca looked on with a knowing look in his eyes.

*

By the time dinner was ready, Valentino had firmly pushed all thoughts of Marc to the back of his mind. He steadfastly ignored the looks Bez and Pecco shot him throughout the meal, focusing the conversation on tomorrow's training plan instead. He spoke to Cele about tucking tighter in the corners and told Franky about the areas of the track where he was losing speed. He saw Pecco and Luca conversing quietly out of the corner of his eyes and had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that they were talking about him.

Once the dishes were washed and put away, the whole group settled in the living room, sprawled out across furniture and the floor. Valentino had cracked out a bottle of wine; it was summer break after all. Pecco was second in the championships, just behind Marc, who had gone from strength to strength on the Ducati. It was, admittedly, rather impressive, and Marc looked good in red. He paused, wondering how he had yet again begun thinking about Marc. He cursed himself for his weakness.

The buzz of a phone was loud, even above the murmurs of conversation and hushed music that Vale had picked out. A choked-off noise ripped him from his musings and he raised his eyes to look at the source. Luca was staring at his phone again, eyes like saucers. The boys closer to him clambered over to see what he was looking at. Bez and Cele started cackling immediately; even Pecco was smirking, rolling his eyes fondly. Bez turned to Luca, "Ah, I think he liked your idea", he said in a teasing voice. Luca chuckled, slightly far away, "fucking hell, clearly. Is this on his public?". The other boys laughed harder at the comment. Vale felt lost. He tuned them out as they continued to joke around, unwilling to be drawn into Marc Marquez once again. Instead, he ran through the mental imagery of every corner in the 2006 championship.

He tried to follow the conversation after that, but he was far away for the rest of the night. His glass of wine had been finished and refilled a few times over. Valentino refused to give in to the temptation. He didn't care about Marc. He didn't want to know what the hell he was doing. And yet, as the night wore on, Valentino’s mind kept drifting to him. Marc smiling underneath him, his eyes crinkled and fucked out. Marc, shirtless, on his sofa at the ranch. Marc wearing the helmet as he sped around Valentino’s track, on one of Valentino's bikes. The possessive part of him was very pleased by the idea. It was a heady thought, addictive in the way that only Marc could be. It led his brain down a path that he tried not to tread. Not anymore. It was only once the boys had all headed to bed that Vale gave in. It was slightly embarrassing to unblock Marc on social media for this.

(But so worth it.)

His most recent post was a series of five slides, the caption simply read “Meow” and tagged Luca. Something akin to jealousy burned inside of him. The photos were various shots of Marc in the helmet. He was shirtless, standing outside by a pool, sweat trailing down his bronzed skin. The Spanish sun was lighting him up like some kind of Greek god, carved from marble and made to be worshipped. Valentino licked his lips subconsciously, enraptured by the flex of his abs and pecs. He had the helmet on, it made Valentino freeze like a rabbit in headlights. In the first two photos, the visor was down, hiding his facial expression, but Marc had flipped the visor up in the others. He was laughing in the one, crinkles in the corner of his eyes which were honeyed in the sunlight. The second one was straight out of a wet dream. Marc looked hungry, as he did when he raced. His eyes were hard and determined - deep pools of molten fire. Valentino shifted in his seat. He flicked to the final slide, a video this time. Alex and Marc were dirt biking, the younger chasing Marc around the track, following a black helmet with little pointy ears. Marc was riding like a maniac, his cackle heard over the roar of the bikes. The video ended when he skidded to a stop, flipping his visor up and smiling widely at the camera.

Valentinos heart was beating out his chest. He can't remember the last time he was so turned on. Over a goddamn Instagram post of all things.

Maybe he was getting old.

Maybe it was just because of Marc.