#polmarc

That year, Alex is the closest he's been to a Moto2 title and potential premiere-class seat. Marc agrees to accompany Pol to his box, just so he can tell Alex how the MotoGP boxes function in contrast to the Moto2 boxes.

There, Valentino Rossi spots the prettiest little thing he's ever seen.

Valentino is gripped by the sudden need to have him. It's an unfamiliar feeling, so different from the attraction he's felt for others. This one feels dangerous, like thunder, like he'll die if he doesn't have that alluring man by his side.

He asks around and learns that the beautiful man is named Marc Marquez, the brother of a Moto2 rider.

Valentino coerces Marc into a relationship by holding Alex's potential seat in MotoGP hostage.

He treats Marc like a prized possession or a pampered pet. Valentino keeps him close and takes him everywhere, hand always on Marc's person.

Even after he retires, he keeps Marc with him. Never letting the younger man leave.

Marc is miserable. He wants his brother and he misses Pol.

Alex is even more so. He promises Marc he'll get him back once his contract ends with whatever team Valentino shoved him in and he signs for another. Then Marc would never have to do anything he doesn't want to and this time Alex—and Pol—would take care of him.

(I'm not sure how to end this and right now I have a bad end and a good end. Bad one where Marc is stuck with Valentino forever, he's rarely allowed to see Alex and eventually gets a ring forced on his finger. And the good one where Alex and Pol "save" him and the three of them live in a mini concrete cube near a track where Marc can finally ride to his heart's content and is frequently treated to baked goods by Pol.)

Pol sighs and leans against the wall.

The celebrations for their latest victory had gone late into the night. Normally there was a curfew set in place for them, so that they didn’t do anything too stupid. But, since they had just made the semi finals, the coaches had looked the other way and just told them to make their flights the next day.

So, the team had gone a bit wild.

They had ordered in food and drinks, making a party out of it. Then, they had spent half the night blasting music and the other half playing video games on the tv in the lounge.

It was a pretty nice evening in Pol’s opinion.

But, in all the chaos, he had completely forgotten about Marc’s qualifying session. Pol had assumed that it would be around 11 am, like usual.

And then he remembered that he was not in Europe. He was in America.

That meant that there was a 9 hour time difference between the duo at the moment, as Marc was racing in Germany and Pol was on the West Coast.

Which meant that Q2 would take place around 2 AM for Pol.

Pol glances around the room. There were a bunch of other players scattered across the floor with him, though some were back in their own rooms now.

He would be among the latter if not for one small issue.

The two people lying on him.

Pol looks at said duo.

Gavi had his head on Pol’s shoulder, snoring loudly. Meanwhile, Lamine was on his other side, his paper crown half tilted on his head.

Pol wasn’t even sure where the younger player had even found the thing. It just appeared during the celebrations.

But hey, as long as Lamine was happy, who cares.

Pol shifts awkwardly as he repositions his phone. He had set it on his knees so that he could watch the livestream of the qualifying session. He couldn’t exactly listen to the commentary since he had it on mute, so that he wouldn’t disturb the other two. But, he could follow the session well enough without audio.

Pol watches as the times tick down and down. He can feel his blood pressure rise as he watches he names tumble up and down the order.

You would think qualifying sessions would be easy for him to handle at this point, considering the fact that his brother and his fiance had been riding for years now.

But, it never did.

However, he is so distracted by the livestream, he doesn’t notice the person shifting next to him until they speak up.

“What are you watching?”

Pol jumps a bit at the sudden question. He glances down, only to see Lamine’s confused face staring back at him.

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?” Pol whispers.

Lamine shakes his head, though he looks over at Pol’s phone curiously.

“Are you watching F1 or something…?” Lamine asks.

Pol bites his lip to hold back the laughter building in his throat.

Good thing Aleix and Marc didn’t hear that. Lamine would be in for a lecture if they had.

Pol opens his mouth but is cut off by another sleepy voice.

“No,” Gavi yawns, “It’s MotoGP. I recognize it.”

Shit. He woke them both up

Pol gives him a sheepish look. “You noticed too?”

Gavi nods and offers him a small smile. “Yeah but I don’t mind. I like MotoGP.”

Lamine glances at the screen, which was hilariously showcasing Acosta’s ass at the moment.

“… Any reason why?” He asks, smirking a bit.

Gavi reaches over Pol to swat Lamine. “That’s not why I like it! I like Marc Marquez.”

The cam chose then to cut to Marc’s ass.

Lamine snickers a bit. “Oh yeah. I can see why.”

Gavi tries to reach over again and Pol barely stops him.

“Okay okay, that’s enough you two.” Pol said a bit too sternly.

Okay, maybe he was a bit annoyed about the talk about Marc’s ass. But in his defense, that WAS his fiancé.

Even if no one knew that little detail yet.

Both of the younger players mumble their apologies.

“So why do you like him then?” Lamine questions, glancing over at Gavi.

Gavi looks over at the screen and bites his lip.

“… He reminds me of me… Especially with the injury.” Gavi mumbles.

Pol barely stops himself from looking at Gavi’s legs.

Yeah, he could see the comparison there.

But, instead of saying anything, he just reaches up and squeezes Gavi’s shoulder. Gavi gives him a small smile in turn.

Lamine falls quiet. He looks between the screen and Gavi for a moment, then smiles.

“He’s Spanish too right? So I guess we have to root for him then.” Lamine suggests.

Gavi visibly cheers up a bit and nods. “Yeah. We have to.”

He then glances at Pol. “Who were you rooting for?”

Pol smiles at him. “Marc, of course. He’s my friend.”

Gavi’s eyes light up. “You know him too?”

“Wait, am I the only one who hasn’t met him?” Lamine pouts.

Pol ruffles his hair. “I grew up with him. So that’s why I have a fondness for him.”

“And I went to one of his races and he was pretty nice to me.” Gavi chimes in.

Lamine huffs. “Then I guess I’ll have to meet him after this. Think the World Cup trophy will be a good ice breaker?”

Both Pol and Gavi laugh at the joke, though they do their best to do so quietly.

As he laughs, Pol’s eyes fall on the screen, just in time to see Marc perform his latest lap.

Pol’s breath catches as he watches Marc’s name hit the top of the timing table.

Marc was on pole.

Provisional pole, but it didn’t look like anyone else could top it

A surge of pride wells up inside Pol at the sight.

He’s seen Marc do this a thousand times. And yet each time, it still brings him that same familiar sense of pride and joy.

“Hey look! He’s on pole!” Gavi cheers.

“Sweet!” Lamine grins.

Pol gives them both a small smile. “He’s just like us, right? Taking another step towards total victory.”

Gavi nods. “Yeah! And I bet he will win in the end, like us!”

“Yeah! We will beat everyone in our way!” Lamine grins.

Pol chuckles and ruffles their hair. “Okay okay. But before then, we should get some rest. Especially since we have a flight soon.”

Lamine raises an eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one watching a livestream at fuck all in the morning?”

“Yeah! You’re the bad influence here, not us!” Gavi snickers.

Pol rolls his eyes at their antics and lightly shoved them off of him.

“If you’re going to talk shit, then you two can go back to your rooms instead of using me as a bed.” Pol said.

Lamine latches onto his arm. “Nooooo! You’re so comfy!”

Gavi grabs the other one. “Yeah! Stay here Pol!”

Pol rolls his eyes and lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Fine. I guess I can stay. But only if you two behave!” Pol decides.

“We will!” Gavi promises.

“Yeah! We will only make fun of you a LITTLE bit.” Lamine promises.

Pol raises an eyebrow at them, but receives two pairs of puppy dog eyes in return.

He would normally make them work harder for him to stay. But admittedly, he was growing a bit sleepy as his exhaustion caught up with him.

So, he just leans back, allowing the duo to latch onto him.

Pol decides to send a congratulatory message to Marc when he woke up. Though, he hopes that he will wake up to a sprint win.

Pol yawns and curls up against the wall, secretly enjoying the way his teammates cuddle up to him as he does so.

He knew the next few days would be tense. There were still two more teams in his way for a World Cup win. And Marc still had two more races to complete that weekend.

Pol had honestly lost track of how many times he had seen Dani awkwardly adjust his collar, trying to hide the hickeys lining his throat.

Or how many times he had hurriedly hidden his phone when Pol walked in.

Or how many times he had seen Dani slipping into a motorhome that wasn’t his own.

It was always the same motorhome too. The one only a few feet away from Dani’s.

David Alonso’s motorhome.

Another rising star, cherry picked by MotoGP legends to be a future MotoGP star. His future was set in stone, with both Valentino Rossi and Marc Marquez’s eyes on him and the latter’s guidance helping to shape his career.

Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he got the call up.

Meanwhile, Dani, despite his talent, was fighting for the same recognition. It was part of what had drawn Pol to the younger rider in the first place, as he had seen too much of himself within him.

Though as 2026 dawned, Dani was finally getting the attention he deserved.

Whether or not said attention came too late remained to be seen.

And yet despite that, the two Moto2 riders were oddly connected.

Pol figured that the relationship wasn’t all smooth sailing though. Pol knew how much David drove Dani wild.

After all, his protégé was not shy about complaining about the Aspar driver.

“It’s like he has everything handed to him because of his connections! He has the talent yes, but so do I!”

And yet, apparently, those complaints weren’t enough to stop the little rendezvouses between the new teammates.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Pol.

After all, this little relationship reminded him of his own days in Moto2.

Pol remembers how he himself used to storm into a certain someone’s motorhome, his blood boiling after yet another battle on the track.

And his rival would look up, a faux look of innocence on his face.

“Is something the matter Pol? You look upset.”

Pol hated him back then.

Hated that smug little grin he would send him, while he asked what could possibly be wrong with him.

Hated Marc’s talent and the giant ego that accompanied it.

Hated how he had so many people wrapped around his finger at the age of only 19.

Hated how he himself was one of the ones who had unwillingly fallen into Marc’s trap.

Because back then, no one could resist Marc Marquez. In 2012, Marc wasn’t the villain of the paddock, whose thirst for victory outweighed everything to him.

No, Marc Marquez was still Spain’s darling then. Their rising star, with the talent to rival so many others. The one who immediately got the call up to Honda without a Moto2 title to his name yet.

Though he later rectified that bit by the end of 2012.

Meanwhile Pol scrambled to find a team to take him, even with his older brother being a MotoGP rider at the time.

And yet, even as his annoyance and jealousy towards Marc Marquez coursed through his veins, Pol still sought out his company.

Marc was his addiction, a drug he couldn’t quite get rid of.

Even years later, Pol could remember those nights in Marc’s motorhome.

His back would sting the next morning with fresh scratches. And his neck would be covered in hickeys that Pol quickly learned to hide, before his older brother saw and teased him about sneaking out with a fling.

If he complained to Marc, the prick would only laugh in reply and “promise” to not do it again.

They both knew he was lying.

Surprisingly though, they managed to keep their little secret from the paddock.

In the public’s eye, they were just rivals, fighting each other tooth and nail for the Moto2 championship.

No one knew the truth. Even now.

Still, there was something nostalgic about watching Dani and David run around like no one was watching.

Pol wonders if he was the same all those years ago.

Was there someone watching him and Marc all those years ago? Did they shake their head too, thinking of their own rivals?

Pol asks Marc one day if he knew about their respective protégés’ interactions.

Marc only laughs in reply. His eyes are filled with that familiar look of mischief as he playfully jokes that, “What do you mean Pol? I don’t know what David does in his free time!”

But, the door to Marc’s motorhome is open that night.