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Brazil 2014
They say you see your life flash before your eyes right before you die. Mark isn’t sure what exactly he sees, but when he feels the car spinning out of control and heading straight for the barriers, he’s sure this is gonna be it for him. He has cheated death one too many times, this time, he’s certain, it will come to collect him. But when he tries to brace himself for the impact, thinking of the people he loved, of his family, his friends, hoping they’ll know, he can’t seem to focus. In the split second before the car crashes into the barrier, suddenly there are moments of his life flashing before his eyes like a movie sped up beyond recognition. But all he can make out are deep blue eyes.
Jerez 2005
After the beautifully empty race track and the enjoyment of finally being one with the car again, letting her sing underneath him, bending to his touch, it's a sharp contrast to endure the aggravating stop and go on their way to the airport. Their way, because for some reason Mark had been in the mood earlier to pick up stray puppies for the ride.
The stray puppy in question was introduced to him as one Sebastian Vettel.
“You good, kid?”, he asks again, somewhere between amusement and sympathy.
“Uhm hm”, Sebastian answers again. But he is still having some difficulty balancing his head in a comfortable position, his poor muscles must be straining after the exertion of driving an F1 car for the first time, especially for such a scrawny kid.
“Little bit much for your first time, hm?”, Mark sympathizes as he maneuvers the rental car through busy traffic lanes.
“No”, comes the kid’s defiant response, followed by a little wince because he moved his head too quickly, “I can handle it.”
Mark risks a glance and is met with fierce blue eyes shining with determination. For all his bravado and the job he did today despite being worse for wear now, Mark has to give it to him. The kid has the right mindset for Formula 1, probably the right skill set as well. But he just isn’t quite there yet. After all, he is what, barely 18 years old?
“I wasn’t scared.” Sebastian declares a moment later, unprompted and much quieter. Mark has a suspicion that that’s a lie, the only question remains which of them the boy is trying to convince. Feeling the unexplainable urge to look out for this little hothead, Mark grabs his team jacket from the backseat and shoves it towards Sebastian.
“Put this under your head”, he instructs and notes with some satisfaction how Sebastian does so without complaint.
“Do all rookie test drivers get this special treatment?”
Mark isn’t sure how to answer this rather unexpected question, seeing as he never has done this before with intention. And honestly offering Sebastian a right seemed only the polite thing to do. Then Mark finally notices the cheeky grin and understands that the kid is actually teasing him.
„Yeah mate, I hate to break it to you, but you're not the only one to get the pleasure of being stuck in traffic with me.“
Mark finds himself teasing back, as it becomes obvious that they are in fact stuck in traffic and surprisingly he doesn’t mind it so much today.
„Well then, I guess I have to make the most out of it“, Sebastian grins, still cradling his head against Mark‘s jacket, „Did you know that-…“
Mark did in fact not know. But he found out soon enough that the kid apparently was a walking encyclopedia on their sports history. Somehow they ended up falling into an easy conversation for the rest of the way to the airport, Seb sprouting knowledge, Mark backing it up with the anecdotes he‘d come across in his career so far. He can’t quite put a finger on why but for once Mark doesn’t mind at all that they are stuck in traffic, not when his current company makes even that worthwhile.
Somewhere during the forty-five minutes it takes them from the race track to the airport Sebastian Vettel has the worldchanging revelation that he might be into men. More importantly he realizes while he nervously rambles on about Formula 1 and the legends of races and racers, that he might have a crush on Mark Webber.
Fuji 2007
He’s had some time to cool off. He has also had some time to realize that it wasn’t all the kid’s fault and that Hamilton and McLarens involvement in the unfortunate incident played a more significant role than Toro Rosso’s — Red Bull’s — unfortunate habit of putting teenagers into race cars.
Mark didn’t have enough time to prepare himself for this particular event. He doesn’t like to be the bad guy here, but no matter his youthful appearance, Sebastian Vettel is not just a kid. He’s also a competitor whose inexperience cost Mark the very real chance of a podium finish today, so he really doesn’t want to feel any sympathy for him right now.
But for one that’s much harder after hearing in detail about the broadcasted footage of the kid crying his eyes out at the back of the garage and blaming himself for crashing into Mark. He couldn’t really understand why DC had found it so amusing when he told Mark all about it, especially not now when he saw the evidence of the shed tears in Seb’s red rimmed eyes and the wobbly, chewed-up lip. Furthermore it was even more impossible to ignore the urge to console the kid as he was forced to watch the distress, the guilt of ruining both of their races caused Seb, in such close proximity.
Because in a very unfortunate turn of events, they had found themselves stuck in the fucking elevator on the way up to their hotel floor. Why exactly did both of their teams always have to stay at the same hotel again? Maybe if they didn’t this particular disaster could have been avoided.
Approximately twenty minutes until freedom, the guy had said when Mark pressed the emergency call button. Seb hadn't managed a single word ever since they stepped into the elevator cabin right after one another, so once again it had been all on Mark to get them out of here, just like he had done all the talking in the stewards office earlier, Seb just nodding along. To make matters worse, the kid also never really lost the deer-in-the-headlights-look after the elevator had come to a rumbling halt in between two floors. Mark had half a mind to tell him to fucking stop this. He had made a mistake and denied them both a podium finish. Fine . No way to change that now. But it would be preferable if Seb stopped fucking pouting about it like a child.
Seb doesn’t have any idea what to say, not when all he can think about is how right Mark had been. He had made a stupid beginner mistake and fucked it all up for both of them. But what hurt even more was how it only confirmed that Mark really sees nothing more in him than a child, a foolish child unworthy of driving in Formula 1 and unworthy of Mark’s attention.
Brazil 2013
If Mark had a dollar for every time that he’s been trapped somewhere with Seb over the years, he would certainly have enough to buy himself a nice bottle of wine. And right now, he could really use one, because how on earth does this keep happening?
It’s been nearly four minutes since his teammate, or more accurately - and finally - ex-teammate, has called maintenance to inform them about the broken door handle that currently keeps Seb from his celebrations and Mark from his flight home.
He is almost in the mood to just blame Seb for breaking the stupid thing, but not even Sebastian Vettel is that calculating, or desperate for Mark's company for that matter.
Except he is, but Mark doesn’t need to know that. Nor should he be made aware of the missing screw in Seb’s pocket.
In another world this could have been a memorable conclusion to the four years of their turbulent partnership, the perfect moment to share a laugh over the good and the bad times spent together and to reminisce about what made them all worth it in the end.
But there is nothing perfect about this moment. They sit in awkward silence, Sebastian cross legged in front of the door as if he can’t wait for someone to free him and Mark on the edge of his couch, intentionally putting as much distance between them as the small room allows. It just manifests what Mark knew to be the truth for some time now, with the last race of the season officially finished - and won in Seb’s case - there is nothing left to say between them.
That is, nothing left to say except for the unexpectedly personal question that bursts out of Seb when their shared prison time reaches the seven minute mark.
“So, any plans for the winter break?”
It’s a fair question. Technically. But people who don’t respect one another don’t share holiday plans. So Seb really has no business acting as affronted as he does when Mark shoots him an incredulous look in response. Are you serious right now?
“Sorry”, Seb backpedals quickly, but still manages to make it sound sarcastic, “Didn’t know being an ex-formula one driver for literally a minute would mean your travel plans are top secret now. Would have thought it was the other way around.”
Leave it to Sebastian Vettel to trap them into a room and still somehow manage to dig at Mark’s career. Dickhead . He wants to roll his eyes, but can already imagine what kind of subtle insult that would elicit from Seb with the current mood he seems to be in. So he goes for bluntness instead.
“Not secret, exactly. Just… let's skip the chit-chat, yeah? We both know you don’t actually care, Seb.”
He isn’t even lying, he genuinely can’t imagine why Seb would care about what Mark does in his free time. They are basically strangers now anyway. Because that’s exactly what Seb himself has decided them to be. Whatever they could have been once, now without team obligations to follow the only real thing left between them is indifference.
“Who said this is about caring?”, Seb taunts, a dazzling grin appearing on his lips. A smile that Mark knows only too well. Not that he expected to ever see it again directed at him.
So this is just about having another opportunity to win a pointless competition between them, born out of boredom like so many before. Although best holiday plans seem like a pretty dull topic to have a pissing contest over. Seb used to have far more creative ideas of killing time and boredom, which, well, somehow always ended up killing Mark’s self control instead.
The foolish thought of repeating those ideas, just one last time, crosses his mind for a split second. Probably only because this is how it happened once - or many times - before.
Just the two of them trapped in a room with only their interminable tension for company.
Abu Dhabi 2010
”Wanna share my McNuggets?”
He can only stare at Seb, at this kid, the fucking world champion and the box of fast food he’s offering like some kind of olive branch. It’s ridiculous. Sebastian is ridiculous, but he’s smiling sheepishly and Mark has no idea what to do with that.
They have already had the talk. Mark made sure to get it over with before either of them were too inebriated to have this conversation, needing all of his self control to be the better man and congratulate Sebastian for winning the championship unexpectedly but not undeservingly. And he had managed that much, said the right words, shook his hand, smiled, all the while slowly realizing that this could have been it, his best chance to make it into the history books as a champion, snatched away at the last moment by a fucking kid.
So somehow it was entirely fitting that Sebastian treated himself to a McDonalds for winning a championship, munching happily on his fries while the grown-ups around him basically drowned in alcohol. They can still hear Adrian and Christian’s voices drifting over from the row ahead, both deep in conversation but not necessarily knowing they are actually talking about different topics. Needless to say both of them are way too out of it to pay any attention to their drivers.
Seb is still waiting, the box of Chicken McNuggets still open between them and he’s watching Mark with a weirdly concerned expression entirely unbefitting of a boy who just won it all tonight.
So Mark doesn’t really offer a reply, but does take one of the offered deep fried treats, giving Seb a half earnest smile that hopefully conveys his gratitude. He doesn’t really have the words to say anything else, so they fall back into silence, sharing the unusual celebratory dinner and pretending the divide that opened up between them with the championship decided is anything as flimsy and easily destructible as the divider between their seats, the same one Seb carelessly pushes out of the way to create more space for them, their outstretched seats now resembling something akin to a double bed. Weirdly enough all of this reminds Mark of having a sleepover with a friend, only that he doesn’t want to be at this one in the first place and Sebastian Vettel surely is anything but his friend.
So only god knows why he goes along with this, letting Seb tear down his walls and crowd his space as if the kid hasn’t taken enough from him today. But after the season he’s had Mark doesn’t really have any energy left to feel… anything . There is no rage, no sadness, no ambition to show them all next season that he’s just as capable of winning the championship.
What makes it worse is that he’s trapped on a private plane within a crowd of people essentially celebrating his defeat. He knows that it isn’t intentional, the team does have enough to celebrate this season after all, because it isn’t only Seb’s win, but Red Bull Racing’s dominance this year. That still includes Mark, wouldn’t have been possible without him, but he hasn’t felt like an equally important part of this team ever since they very obviously chose Sebastian to be their poster boy. So yes, despite trying to be a good teammate and the fair sports person his father raised him to be, it isn’t easy to swallow his pride and the crushing feeling of defeat when everyone around him is still very much occupied with celebrating. Christian, having passed the line of good and bad, keeps singing “We are the Champions”, because all of them are Champions now, all of them except Mark, who knows now that his best just wasn’t good enough to compete with Red Bull’s new golden boy. He has suffered the most tremendous loss of his career after a season that asked everything of him, the physical strain of starting this year in pain and hurting and fighting his way to the top of the standings despite it. But it wasn’t enough in the end. Mark wasn’t good enough in the end.
So somehow it feels deserved to be trapped here with all of them, celebrating their wins and his loss, because the fairy tail had a happy ending after all. The right car won today, no matter how different things might have looked at the beginning of the race and Mark can admit it to himself, that they wouldn’t have been as ecstatic if it was him being teary eyed and emotional on the podium. He couldn’t have given the team what they needed so desperately, not in the way Seb was capable of sharing his win. It wasn’t hard to see how the blue eyed wunderkind is a way better protagonist in the story of Red Bull’s triumph than Mark could have ever been.
Brazil 2014 II
He doesn’t really know how to feel about waking up to the unexpected guest curled up in the chair of his hospital room. Maybe it’s because they have never ever done it like this, done the crazy thing of flying half across the world to stay at each other's bedside in times of crisis. That’s reserved for people who are in relationships, which clearly they are not. Not that Mark never thought about it, actually being with Seb. But there have always been enough reasons why they really shouldn’t cross that particular line.
After all, the two of them in close proximity always proved to be a dangerous combination.
So it really shouldn’t cause Sebastian to flinch the way he does when Mark asks him some time later, after his doctors signed their approval for his discharge and flight home.
“Why are you here, Seb?”
The German doesn’t answer right away, instead he keeps rummaging around the room while packing Mark’s belongings, which Mark hasn’t asked him to do. It’s a little concerning that Seb knows exactly what items to pack in the carry-on and which won’t be needed during the 12 hour flight. Mark isn’t sure that there is anyone else who has this intimate knowledge of his preferences and honestly, that poses the more frightening question how Seb became privy to all of it in the first place.
But it seems to go both ways, because Mark immediately recognizes the defensive undertone others couldn’t have picked out, no less understood it’s meaning, when Seb finally manages to give him an answer.
“I said already, so you can fly back home.”
Maybe it’s the cocktail of antibiotics he’s on or the still very untypical circumstance of Seb being here in the first place, but Mark can’t just let him off the hook this easily.
“Yeah, I mean thank you again for the private flight and all, but why are you here ?”
Seb’s face constricts in a complicated frown. He doesn’t answer for an even longer time, instead he repeatedly fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, then rechecks if he has packed everything and that they have all the necessary paperwork to fly out, all the while avoiding to look at Mark.
“I needed to see for myself that you’re okay”, he confesses finally, voice uncharacteristically quiet. His hands are both on the zipper of Mark’s suitcase, they are shaking.
Mark is stunned into silence and a little touched because this is the closest either of them have ever come to expressing this thing that’s going on between them.
Somewhere deep down he knows it would have always been Seb crossing that line, making them address the truth. But right now Sebastian still looks like he’s made a mistake, like he would have rather been anywhere else than here and belatedly Mark realizes why. He has years of experience seeing the expressions play out on the Germans face and he knows now with an undesired certainty when Seb feels like he isn’t welcome. He had hoped to never make him feel like this again, but the foolish idiot he is, of course Mark had achieved exactly that when Sebastian had gone out of his way to make sure he was alright.
“Hey”, he says softly, intending to fix his mistake before Seb will have the chance to shut him out — again. He reaches for the other man's hand, pulling it away from the suitcase to cradle it between both of his, “I never said I didn’t want you here.”
Seb looks up to meet his eyes, those incredible blue orbs entirely focused on Mark’s. There's so much emotion shining in them, so many unsaid confessions. Mark isn’t sure if they’ll ever be brave enough to speak those out loud. Isn’t it enough that they know the truth? Should they be really stupid enough to risk it all and ruin the beautiful thing they have built for themselves in the past year?
“You scared me”, Sebastian confesses earnestly, his voice grave with emotion and Mark knows if one of them is brave enough — impulsive enough — to risk it all, it won’t be him. There is a sudden urge to tell him to stop, to beg him to stay silent. But Mark can’t form the words in time to hear Seb address exactly what they have been trying to avoid talking about since this has become a thing, since that time in Brazil a year ago, since Mark lost his one chance to be a champion. Maybe they have been avoiding having a real conversation since forever , wasting all those moments in shared solitude over the years with wrong words and stupid actions. But right now Seb has seemingly decided to change that once and for all and Mark is in no position to stop him.
“We never talked about all of this, about us ” Seb weakly gestures between them.
He almost wants to smile, but then Sebastian continues and Mark can’t decide if it’s the fear that laces the German’s words or their undeniable truth that break his heart.
“All I could think about was what if this is it ?”
“But it’s not”, Mark assures, even though he knows how close he came to Death this time and what that can do to one's mind. He’s made enough cars fly to have figured it out by now. But he needs to remind Sebastian as much as himself, that just like so many times before, it will all be alright.
“I’m right here, love”, he promises earnestly, unaware that he adds the endearment he had reserved for those rare, vulnerable moments between them, and for those foolish fantasies he can’t quite rid himself of, not when Seb keeps smiling at him like he is his entire world. Which he does again right now, so Mark makes more foolish fantasies become reality and presses light kisses to Sebastian's knuckles, then to the inside of his palm.
“And I’m glad you came to bring me home.”
And he is. Of course he could have stayed longer in Brazil and waited it out there, but the prospect of going home, seeing the dogs and his family and friends without them traveling half across the world makes up for the long flight ahead. And he can’t lie, having Seb here to keep him company is nice .
Abu Dhabi 2010 II
There is a small part in Mark that wants to believe they would be just as happy for him to win as they would have been for Seb. But he knows the truth, and has seen the repercussions of it all season. The incident in Turkey, the drama of the stolen front wing in Silverstone, the stupid chassis story in Monaco. There was a role for him to play in this story and winning the championship today would have made for an unsatisfying ending.
But now the wrongs were righted, their hero has beaten the villain and whatever insignificant role Mark was supposed to play in this story for Seb to be crowned as the deserving champion.
They have been safe in their little bubble of solitude for a while, Mark trapped in his defeat, Seb in his triumph, when the latter finally breaks their shared silence in a quiet voice.
“You did well.”
A moment passes before the whispered words really register for what they are. Not quite an apology, because how could Sebastian apologize for winning. But still, Seb has no reason to praise him for failing to secure the championship.
“Not good enough”, Mark whispers. It should feel wrong admitting that to his rival, the young teammate who beat him today in equal machinery. But somehow they are speaking truths and if Seb is saying things he shouldn’t, maybe it’s safe to assume that come morning they’ll both pretend to have been too drunk to remember this conversation.
“You did everything right”, Seb contradicts, “But in the end it comes down to luck.”
Mark thinks that luck is just another word for their team's favoritism. But he appreciates Seb’s intention.
“Should have known luck would always side with the golden child”, he muses and then follows the incredibly stupid urge to reach over and tuck one of Seb’s messy golden curls behind his ear. It feels symbolic somehow, as if the simple touch would reward him with some of Sebastian's luck in the future. But wouldn’t that just mean he stole it after all? That luck was never really supposed to be on his side in the first place? Mark Webber, a tragedy, always on the wrong side, always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just one step away from having it all.
He is a fool because in the real world, where heros and fairy tales and luck don’t matter, he’s done the foolish thing and broken the unspoken rule. He realizes his mistake when he becomes aware of Seb’s big blue eyes staring back at him, expression unreadable.
Mark thinks he should apologize, retract his hand and blame the stupid gesture on the alcohol, but then he feels himself be pulled over the small divide in their seats. Seb has curled his fingers around the collar of his sweatshirt, eyes burning with something Mark can’t place and he's probably about to get an earful of accusations and threats, when instead there are warm lips pressing against his own.
This is what winning it all feels like , is the only thing on Seb’s mind. He wants Mark to share his triumph, wants him to feel all that what Seb is feeling in this very moment on top of the world. He wants to heal the wounds of his terrible defeat with gentle kisses. But they turn into desperate ones when Seb realizes that winning it all means that from now on there is everything to lose.
Brazil 2014 III
For all the years they have been trapped somewhere together, and despite him being arguably in his worst shape now, it’s this familiar comfort in having Seb close that finally gives him some much needed peace of mind. Because if Seb is here, everything is going to be just fine.
“I love you.”
What ?
He looks over at Seb, who is surprisingly calm considering the confession he’s just made.
Like it always is with them, Mark needs a second to catch up.
“You love me?”
“Yes, you idiot, I thought it was obvious.”
“Then why say it?”
Why take the risk of opening this particular can of worms with 9 hours of flight ahead of them, literally trapped in the same space?
“Because if I happen to die in a crash tomorrow, I don’t want you to ask yourself why I didn’t.”
Seb says it so resolutely that Mark has a very realistic impression of what he must have gone through since his accident. Shame curses through him when he remembers his inconsiderate choice of words. Not to mention his petulant behavior from the moment he woke up to Seb in his hospital room. Which the other man has endured without complaint.
Except… oh , the sudden declaration of feelings that led them to this conversation makes way more sense now when put in context.
Mark feels like a complete fool realizing the lengths Sebastian was willing to go just to take care of him - like any good partner would - despite receiving not even the slightest bit of gratitude that Mark is actually feeling right now.
“Come here”, he requests, because he won’t have any more of this conversation with the aisle dividing them.
Thankfully Seb doesn’t begrudge him and climbs right next to him in the seat, carefully draping himself against Mark's chest somehow managing not to put too much pressure on his battered body. Relieved, Mark presses a kiss on top of his head, buries his nose in the messy curls and breathes in the familiar scent. It makes him immediately feel better.
Seb cuddles in closer in response, taking Mark's hand and pressing kisses on every single knuckle. It should be worrying how easily they slot back into this intimacy, previously reserved only for dark hotel rooms and away from prying eyes.
But it isn’t, simply because this has been a long time coming.
“I love you”, Mark murmurs and presses more kisses into Seb’s hair, “I might not be the best at showing it, but I always loved you, you have to know that.”