Chapter Text
With a frustrated yell, Valentino throws the shirt that he had just put on into a corner where there already is an impressive pile of clothing in all colors known to makind. He has basically cleared out his entire wardrobe in a panic-induced craze, throwing stuff around on 'will-wear', 'won't-wear', and 'definitely-won't-wear'-piles and now his room looks like a bomb had just gone off.
He really thought he was already out of the age where he worries too much about what he wears on a date.
At the sound of Vale's yelling, Luca sticks his head through the open door. "Everything alright, fra?" Valentino whips his head to him and gestures wildly with big movements to the piles. "What does it look like, Luca? I am panicking like when I was a teenager... and I'm 40 now! I can't be panicking over a date, that's-"
"Woah, okay. Geez, I didn't expect this to be actually important for you," Luca says as he fully steps into the room.
"Of course, it's important!" Vale exclaims. "The guy is Marco's ballet teacher. I don't want to screw it up, because then I'll have to find another studio, or another teacher, and Marco really adores him so I- I, I can't fuck this up, Luca." He looks anxiously at his brother.
"Well, if you want, I can help you with what you wear. I dress more presentable than you."
If anyone else had said that to Vale's face, he would've exploded immediately, but considering it is his brother, he can't really bring himself to argue about that. (also, because Vale has to admit that it is true.)
"Show me what you got."
❄️
Out of breath, Valentino finally arrives at the café, just under five minutes earlier than what they had agreed to, so he can be there before Marc. And he thankfully can't spot him anywhere. That would have been the ultimate humiliation: being later than the 10ish years younger guy.
The sweater Luca had wrangled him into is made out of one-hundred percent chashmere, and so with the added layer of his favourite coat, Valentino feels like there's a river flowing down his back underneath the sweater-and-coat-combo.
He quickly decides to already find a seat for the two of them, so he doesn't have to wait out in the cold and risk getting sick. The sky already looks like it's about to snow again, and he's not really in the mood for turning into a snowman before his date.
A little silver bell jingles when he opens the door, and he steps inside the cozy café. The scent of freshly baked pastries is the first thing he can smell; the second is a deliciously rich espresso scent that comes from a beautiful espresso machine behind the counter, one that he also would enjoy standing in his kitchen, as Luca so lovingly put it: Vale is a big espresso-snob.
What he can also spot are multiple pieces of cake, croissants, and other sweet treats behind the glass next to the counter.
Above every window are fairylights, twinkling in red and green – matching to the dark red chairs and tables that are scattered everywhere and the many plants that seem to take up all the space on windowsills and every other horizontal surface.
Valentino decides on a table in the corner, with good visibility in the direction of the door so he doesn't miss Marc when he arrives. He takes off his thick wintercoat that always gets him called 'old-man' by the academy boys and drapes it over the back of the chair he settles down on.
He doesn't have to wait too long before a waiter walks over to him, and he decides to order already, so he has something to do while waiting. "Just an espresso and a piece of chocolate cake, thank you."
The waiter leaves again, and he's left alone with his thoughts.
But thankfully not too long since just a few minutes later, the door opens with a jingle and in steps a wonderfully disheveled and slightly out-of-breath Marc clad in a jacket and matching gloves in nearly perfect yamaha-blue. He catches his breath for a second before scanning the café with searching eyes. Once he spots Vale in the corner, he waves cutely and walks over to him.
"Sorry for not showing up that punctually, I needed to help my brother with his dogs," he apologizes.
"Ahh, don't worry about that. I was here a bit early anyway, and it's not like you are twenty minutes too late or something like that."
Marc breathes a sigh of relief and sends Vale a grateful look before he takes off the gloves, shoves them into the pocket of his jacket, and hangs said jacket on the back of his seat.
He sits down and rubs his hands together. "It's so cold outside, I always hoped that Italy also wouldn't have the super cold winters, but seems like I am wrong."
"Eh, you get used to it," Vale shrugs his shoulders. "There are definitely colder places than Italy. Have you been to Britain in the winter? Fucking cold, I swear, don't know how they survive every year."
"I can imagine, though I've never been there in the winter. But I was in Germany in the winter once, that was cold."
"Why were you in Germany?" Valentino asks curiously. As far as he knows, Marc is not German, and he has no connection to that country. But again, he has known him for less than three weeks.
"Ah, I was there back when I used to dance professionally," Marc says, though he looks a little embarrassed by admitting that.
The waiter chooses that exact moment to bring Vale's espresso and chocolate cake over, cutting off the thing he wanted to say. After he has put down Vale's order, he asks Marc for his order and leaves again to get it ready.
"So, how was Germany like?" Valentino asks.
"Well, cold, first of all. But also very beautiful, I was in the south since they have a really good ballet, in- ehm, Stuttgart, excuse the horrible pronunciation, and I danced in their production of Coppelia – it's a very popular ballet, so I wasn't able to see much of the city except for the opera house," Marc confesses shyly.
"Allora, but you must have enjoyed yourself a lot... even without seeing the city that much. I can imagine it's the same feeling I get when I'm racing in a different country."
"It probably is, yes. The whole time I was there, I felt like I was on cloud nine. Despite all the hard training I just felt happy to be there, and if I'm honest – I liked spending so much time in the studio, you kind of have to be a bit obsessed to become one of the best."
Vale nods in understanding, he can relate to that. In motorsport, you have to let it consume your life. Otherwise, you just don't have enough training and determination to make it big. "It's the same for bikes. You have to be obsessed with it, but luckily, I am obsessed, and I got lucky with my career. Is it the same in ballet? Like with sponsorships or how to get, uhm, bigger roles?"
"I wouldn't say it's similar to MotoGP. For me, I have always danced since I was a child and was in the productions of my ballet school. And sometimes scouts from companies will watch different ballet schools and scout for a new talent, that's how I got the role in Germany – a guy from the opera watched one of my performances and I guess he liked it."
Marc's green tea and pistachio croissant gets served. He takes a short sip out of the steaming cup before continuing his story.
"I got hired for starring in their next ballet, and it went pretty well. The critics loved it, and the manager, who's in charge of finding new personnel, loved my performance. But after that production I went back to my hometown in Spain."
Now, that doesn't really make sense for Valentino. Marc just said that he had a great performance and that the manager liked it as well, so why did he suddenly go back to Spain?
"So if you were so good, why didn't you continue dancing there? I mean, I'm sure they would've hired you permanently and not just given you a contract extension," Valentino asks. He can't fathom why Marc started teaching kids ballet when he was still in his prime – that's like if he himself would've retired when he got his fourth championship.
Of course, if teaching ballet is Marc's passion, there's nothing wrong with that. He is really good at it from what Marco tells him. But it just seems odd to make that change when he was on such a good path.
Instead of answering, Marc lets his gaze travel to the snow falling outside and suddenly he looks 10 years older, his eyes are filled with a quiet grief, the kind you only see when you're the only one left and everyone around you has already moved on to acceptance, but you're still stuck in the same spot and can't move on.
"The night before the audition for the next production, which would've been like my final challenge, I stayed in the studio to do some last minute training- everyone else had left already, so I was the only one in the whole building. And I always push myself, I always want to be perfect. So I kept dancing the same part I always struggled with over and over," he takes a deep breath in. When he exhales, it's a shaky release. "I was dancing too close to the edge of the stage... it was the thirtieth repitition or so, and I- I. . . I just fell." He makes a gesture like he still doesn't understand how it happened.
"I think I was unconcious for some time, but once I woke up, I was lying in the orchestra pit, and I- I couldn't feel my left arm anymore. I called the ambulance and I had to be taken to the hospital, and well- can't really dance with a fucked up arm," he laughs. It's a weird laugh, Valentino knows it too well – the chuckle that comes out when you're past the point of crying, but still have too much emotion inside and look like you belong in a horror movie.
Marc quietens down and stares into his teacup. "I actually don't know why I just told you that. Not a good first date topic, eh," he mumbles.
"No, no, Marc, it's okay, really."
In a moment where the only thing that counts is reassuring Marc, Valentino reaches over and grabs his forearm. The Spaniard looks up like a startled deer, staring with his chocolate-brown eyes into Valentino's soul. And it breaks something in Vale. The pure guilt and regret of telling the story is enough to let Vale quite reliably know that in the past, people didn't react kindly to him showing that part of himself.
He truly doesn't know what he would've done if he had been in Marc's shoes. His career completely ruined by his determination for perfection, right in his prime. It would have fucked him up – that's for sure.
And he not only wants to make sure that he lets Marc know that there's nothing wrong with bringing up that memory because he's attracted to him – he also means it from one passionate individual to another.
"Listen, Marc. I don't know what people have said to that story or how they reacted to it, but whatever it was like, I can tell you that I, maybe not completely, but at least a little bit what it must have felt like. The heartbreak of not being able to continue doing the thing you love, of not knowing what to do with yourself without that thing that is your entire life," he says while staring deep into Marc's eyes.
"Everyone always just... felt like I was bragging about how good I am or something, I don't know," he whispers brokenly. "No one ever had... sympathy. Only my family." He trembles lightly under Vale's hand like a frightened animal.
It makes Valentino secondhand angry for Marc. What does he mean no one had ever shown sympathy over that horrible-sounding story. It is the story of a fucking tragedy. And even if it wasn't career-ending – he still seriously injured himself and could've ended up way worse.
"Well, they should have. Those people were assholes, Marc. It's a horrifying story. You don't need to feel bad about telling it."
Marc sends Valentino a wobbly smile, with his eyes suspiciously wet. "Thank you, Valentino. Really. It feels really good to hear that."
He swallows a couple of times, grabs with his free hand his tea, and takes a big gulp. "How about you tell me about something more fun than trauma. Given that you still want to continue this date, if not, I'm completely fine with that too, no worries."
"What? No, no, of course I want to continue the date. I don't run away because you don't have a Disney life where nothing goes wrong. I am not a complete asshole, I promise."
Marc chuckles at that, a real chuckle that's actually because he thought it was funny what Vale said, and it makes his stomach feel weird. "Allora, if you want, I can tell you about some pranks Luca and I have done, but it may be a little too stupid for someone like you," he teases.
"No, I want to hear it..please."
And so, Valentino tells him about the time he and Luca filled all available bottles in the garage with ketchup one time, or about the time they smuggled a flock of geese into the hospitality, or when they put glitter bombs under the press conference table, so the riders were covered head-to-toe in rainbow sparkles.
They both are so absorbed in each other that they don't even notice how dark it has gotten or the fact that the staff are already starting to clean the place up.
Their table, at this point, has a stack of dirty plates at one side, topped with a teacup containing two espresso cups. In front of them are a new teacup for Marc, this time with white tea, and Valentino is slurping his hot chocolate.
It's comfortable.
But all good things must come to an end.
In their case, it manifests in the form of a very apologetic waitress who tells them that they are closing down and that she's very sorry to cut their date short.
Marc and Valentino look at each other disbelievingly. The waitress wasn't even there when they arrived, but she still managed to clock that they were on a date. Maybe they were really that obvious, Valentino thinks as he pays for their numerous pastries and beverages. (After a brief discussion with Marc on who should pay. Let me pay Valentino, just let me, it's fine.)
At the door, Marc waits for him, back in his yamaha-blue jacket and glove combo, and overdramatically opens the door for Vale. It's cute. Though Marc, in general, is cute.
They step out into the December cold, and for a moment, both of them stare silently into the pitch black sky, and the falling snowflakes raining down on them. It feels straight out of one of the Christmas stories his mother used to read to him, where you knew that everything would turn out fine in the end, regardless of how hopeless or sad the initial situation was.
Their situation is not that bad in comparison to those stories, to be honest, but it still feels too good to be true.
Valentino looks at Marc beside him, and he only sees a person he doesn't know too well but is already prepared to do everything for. Very fitting for a Christmas story in Vale's opinion – love at first sight. (Or something like that.)
Luca once told him that he's an extremely emotional person, that he falls in love too easily, or hates people too intensely. Everything Valentino knows, he has strong opinions for, whether it's a good or a bad one.
And in this moment he has to agree with his little brother, he has barely known Marc for two weeks, and has seen him in person for less than a day, but he already feels himself hopelessly falling in love with him.
Over the backdrop of Christmas lights lining the street and magical snowfall, Marc looks over to him and lifts an eyebrow. "Good view?"
Valentino smiles and nods, feeling snowflakes melt on his head. "Yes, a very good one."