Chapter Text
It all started with a race.
And it would end with a race.
Tommy was impulsive and awesome and the poggest man to ever exist, which is why he was going to be NASCAR's youngest driver ever to win all the races. All of them. He would be rookie of the year before he was even technically old enough to drive for NASCAR, they just had to see how absolutely incredible he is. So of course when some bitch in their fancy sports car was rolling up next to him at the stoplight with their loud as fuck engine and showing off to everyone around who really didn't care, Tommy decided that it didn't matter if he had only had his drivers license for a week, or that his own car was the slightly beat up kia forte that he and Tubbo had bought used, he was going to show this pussy who the real racer was and everyone would cheer for him because that guy's car was really obnoxious.
The light turned yellow, then green, and in an instant Tommy was a bright silver blur down the (thankfully empty) street, and even though the sports car easily caught and passed him, Tommy was faster to change lanes, bolder to speed around the corners, and the next time that fancy prick was ready to pass him Tommy wouldn't allow it. When they reached the next red light Tommy was first and shot the guy the bird before speeding off again. He needed to find his way home, he had gotten a bit lost.
But he had felt alive.
Sparks were still flying under his skin and his heart was pumping adrenaline to every inch of his body and everything was action movie music and the wind in his hair and bright cherry red fireworks that became his favorite color.
He pulled around the back of his and Tubbo's apartment complex just as the police sped by, way too slow and way too late. He laughed. He fumbled with the key to their unit and threw open the door and demanded that Tubbo use his fancy mechanic skills to turn their car into a real race car because Tubbo was a genius, of course he could do it! If anyone could it was Tommy bestest buddy in the whole world, come on man think of how awesome it would be-!
Tubbo said no.
Tommy pleaded and said he would do all the chores for a month--two months! They wouldn't even have to pay for it, it wasn't like they hadn't snuck into the garages of Tubbo's fancy car school before!
Tubbo said no. If they got caught his scholarship would be revoked and highschool scholarships are practically impossible to get in the first place, not to mention that their car wasn't even compatible with the renovations Tommy wanted to make anyway.
Tommy really didn't want his best friend to lose his scholarship, it was his dream. So he barely mentioned a word of it after that, but he still worked the extra shifts and saved as much as he could so maybe they could get a better car one day (second hand or not, Tubbo could fix it) and finally one day the brunette came into their bedroom with a sigh and told him that if they could find a car that would work and that they could afford, he would do it.
Sparks fluttered to life in Tommy's veins.
It was several months before they could afford one--still a far cry from a real race car, but Tommy was ecstatic. He fluttered around excitedly while Tubbo worked, handing him tools and towels to wipe grime and grease from the boy's hands and cheeks.He insisted (perhaps a few times more than necessary) that they just had to paint it red. Bright red. After the fourth time mentioning it Tubbo kicked him out.
He convinced his teacher to let him try to double the car's acceleration ability as an advanced project. They doubted he could do it, but relented, and Tubbo immediately texted Tommy to say that they wouldn't be needing to sneak around (thank god). Just over a week later Tubbo proudly drove their car back into the parking lot (more like an alley) sort of hidden behind their apartment building telling Tommy it was finally ready. They painted it that night. The sparks burned brightly, on the verge of bursting into something more, if only Tommy could floor the gas pedal again. In a couple days a letter came for Tubbo at the school from one of the best mechanic shops in Manberg.
Almost a month later Tommy stumbled into the Essempi race alley on accident. If it had been legal he certainly would have known about it--he hadn't been allowed at any of the legal ones. They either said he was too young, or they cost more money than he and Tubbo could pay. For such a massive space it was spectacularly well hidden.
He stayed to watch a race. The cars were sleek and many extravagantly painted. He leaned forward a little too close and someone in the crowd pulled him gently backwards with a chuckle. As they sped past him, blowing his hair out of his face, Tommy could see the black and white checkered flag flapping almost in slow motion in their review mirrors.
It was like a match into gasoline.