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“Vale!” a voice calls as he steps out of the front doors of his house. In the driveway, he sees Bezz, and Pecco, and Cele and all his boys loitering by their cars, having just pulled up. The air is dry and hot, like it usually is in Tavullia. A perfect day for racing, he thinks as he squints at the sky. They are swarming together, hugging and laughing. Some of them don’t see each other too much anymore. It feels like a family reunion. There is always something calming about his boys coming home.
“Bezz!” he returns the call, letting an easy smile slide onto his face. And then he is among them, his kids who are no longer kids. Pecco, with his five championships. Bezz with his two. Grown-ups. Not the little skinny bugs who had stared at him with awe, who had whispered his name like a prayer. Vale is glad. That kind of reverence gets old. It makes you feel lonely. He will always love those kids, but the men he knows now as friends are worth so much more.
“Took you a while, eh?” Bezz asks, waggling his eyebrows like he is funny. The other boys laugh, and Vale swats at him. But he feels a blush staining his cheeks, and from the amused looks on Pecco and Luca’s faces, it’s obvious. Vale feels much too old to be blushing anymore. Feels much too old for a lot of things he is experiencing.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, flipping everyone off. They laugh once more, and there is a giddiness there like they are thrilled. Thrilled to see Vale so loose and happy. If he’s honest, Vale is thrilled too. Not every day is this easy. But the good is good, and the bad is bearable.
“He inside?” Pecco asks, always eager to see his old teammate. Vale nods, and watches in amusement as Pecco scrambles for the door, followed by a few others. He hears Marc’s loud laugh in the kitchen as they enter. Knows that they are crowding around him and ruffling his hair. They like to rub it in that they are all bigger than Marc now. Like big dogs showing they can take care of their master.
“They like him more than me now.” Vale complains to Bezz, who is shrugs his shoulders, but doesn’t disagree.
“You’re still my favorite.” Bezz says loyally, but Vale isn’t sure if he believes him. After all, there is something about Marc Marquez that draws you in. Vale would know.
It had been difficult, the time after Marc retired. After the explosion in his motor home. After Vale had finally let his memories and feelings suffocate him and collapsed. The press had caught wind of his visit to his trailer, and rumors were abound. They said he tried to threaten Marc into staying. They said that he had gone there to thank him for holding back. One brave publication even insisted that the two ex-riders were secret lovers and had explosive sex that day (Marc had laughed loudly when he read that and murmured that it wasn’t all wrong. Vale had blushed).
But for the first time in years, he had tried. Tried to shove down the vicious, selfish, paranoid part of his brain that woke up around Marc. Allowed himself to remember all the good and let Marc talk when they got into arguments. Neither of them was perfect. The first few years had been almost just as tense as the ten before it. There were months when they didn’t talk. But eventually Vale would show up at Marc’s door, or Marc would appear on the ranch’s track and they would look at each other and talk. And now when they argued, the malice was gone. Now there was an underlying wish to understand each other that hadn’t been there before.
Vale still remembers the first real fight they had after 2025. Another argument about racing. It felt like the end again. They shouted, they cried. Vale had called Uccio (who still didn’t like Marc, and probably never would) but instead of confirming his fear and anger, Uccio told him to talk to Marc. So maybe it wasn’t just Vale who had changed. Marc showed up at his house a week later, and they had both crumpled upon seeing the other. Vale remembers how Marc’s desperate hands felt, clutching him like he would slip away. So Vale clutched back, and they figured it out.
They didn’t officially get together until last year, although when Vale told his boys this, they stared at him in disbelief. Luca rolled his eyes and muttered that it couldn’t be possible, he’d caught them together several times over the years. Which was true, when they got caught up they were not exactly discreet. Vale had grinned and said they didn’t have to be together for that. Pecco covered Cele’s ears, who turned an interesting shade of red in horror. The boys wouldn’t come into the house when Vale was alone with Marc for a while after that. Especially Cele.
These days his time with Marc felt dipped in honey. There was a glow around him that even the media noticed, and they said that now that Marc Marquez wasn’t a threat to his academy drivers, Valentino Rossi was finally settled. Maybe that was partially true. It was nice to see his boys excel. It was also nice to see Marc relax. He still got that hunter-sharp look in his eyes sometimes, but often it was followed by more fun activities. Not that fighting on track with Marc wasn’t fun. They still whipped around Vale’s track together often, driving in almost perfect sync. But now when Marc wins Vale presses him to his side and feels pride surge. And when Vale wins Marc laughs out loud and smacks a kiss to his cheek. Different. Better.
They are all crowded around Marc like he thought they would be when Bezz and Vale walk into the kitchen. It was one thing Vale had found amusing. When the boys realized that him and Marc were okay now, they had latched on to the Spanish man and never let go. It made it seem like they were holding back before. Pecco, who had always liked Marc, turned into a lap dog around him. Cele always stared at him with sparkly eyes. Even Bezz, who had his own problems with Marc in the past, lit up when they talked. In a way it reminded Vale of how they used to be with him. Now they just bully him.
“I saw the race last week” Marc is telling Cele, curling a hand over his shoulder and making the younger man grin, “you did well. I have some pointers if you want, yes?”
Cele nods like he couldn’t possibly say no, pressing a reverent hand to Marc’s. Vale snorts out a laugh.
“Hands off.” Vale says, just to see Cele look embarrassed. Marc rolls his eyes. The rest of the boy’s snicker and shove Cele’s shoulder, who has retreated to the back of the group, red faced. But Marc looks pleased and that is exactly why Vale said it. It brings him an adrenaline rush like racing when Marc looks at him like that. Like a cat that got the cream. In this metaphor, Vale supposes he is the cream. He’s happy to be.
“Now,” Vale starts, putting on the voice that makes spines straighten up, “we are not just here to chat. We train.”
With the final words, like a well-oiled machine, his boys scramble out the door to get their leathers on. They move together, a team and a family. Vale watches fondly as Bezz helps Pecco with his knee pads. They chatter as they work, talking about racing and family and life. Vale follows them to make sure they stay on task, and his presence forces them to actually pay attention to what they are doing. They still goof around, of course, It wouldn’t be much of a family if they were serious always.
When they are finally ready to ride, they have kicked up dust around the track and it swirls though the sunlight. Marc is here too, leaning against the fence and sipping frizzante. He isn’t riding today. It’s a bad pain day. Vale had rubbed cream into his shoulder last night and massaged him for hours. He hated night like that, when the negative side of MotoGP reared its ugly head. Vale had those nights too, and Marc would always do the same. It is how they worked now, soothing each other’s scars.
“Cele is improving.” Marc says as they start their warmup laps. Vale nods absentmindedly, eyes trained on his boys.
“He takes your advice well.” Vale says in response.
With the resurgence of their relationship, Marc had become something of a second coach to the VR46 boys. It had almost worked too well. The things Vale missed, Marc saw. The areas where Vale was weak, Marc picked up. He slid into place like he belonged there. Vale remembers when he got sick the day before the boys were due to arrive. He had woken the next day at noon and panicked. But he found Marc on the track outside drilling them, eyes sharp and watchful. That was the first night Vale told him, although they had both known for a while.
But as is who they are, this new aspect to their relationship led to fights. One race Cele had pulled a stupid move and crashed. Badly. Vale remembers tearing into Marc because it was not him who had taught the young driver that. But Marc had looked so stricken, the anger died in him. They were careful, from that point onward to bounce ideas off each other. To make sure that no advice was too one-sided.
“I think he drives more like me now.” Marc says with a grin, watching gleefully as Cele dives through the small gap Pecco has given him. He looks proud. Vale is happy that he can be proud for one of Vale’s boys. One of their boys now, he supposes.
“Oh no.” Vale groans, pretending to be horrified at the prospect. Marc laughs and bumps his shoulder lightly.
Vale is more than happy, he thinks. As he stands here with Marc watching his boys train with the warm sun on his back, it doesn’t escape his notice that this feels almost dream-like. Marc is still pressed against his side and has started to hum quietly. It’s Vale’s favorite song, one Marc had sent to him one night after a fight.
I’ll always be here, my dear
For you I will stay
Even on our darkest days
This world is yours and mine
Vale had admittedly teared-up after hearing the lyrics. Now whenever he feels anger pooling, he plays it, and pulls Marc in to dance. By the end of the song they are both calm enough to sit and talk it out. Vale kind of loves it. Luca saw it happen once, and his eyes were so full of relief Vale felt a pang. Not for the first time he realized what his time raging against Marc did to the people around him.
MotoGP in general feels so much safer now. No more hiding in corners. No more animalistic glaring. No more games in the media. It felt pure again. No one really knows his real relationship with Marc, except his boys and their families, but Vale is sure anyone who knew them before is aware. He sees the look on the journalists faces when Marc gets out of his car, or when he accidentally mentions him too much. Its soft, knowing. They never push, never speculate. It's nice. Perhaps they are apologizing to Marc for all they said about him. Perhaps they are apologizing to Vale for all they hounded him. Maybe to both, for their part to play in stretching out the hate. Or maybe they don’t know, and it’s all in his head. Officially they are friends again, after all.
“Ah, Bezz!” a voice cries from out on the track, and Vale zones in just in time to see Bezz and Franco get thrown into the dirt. He tenses, but untenses when they both jump up, laughing and arguing. They are fine. They know how to fall. Marc untenses beside him as well.
“Fifty more laps, Bezzecchi.” Vale calls. It was his fault, after all.
Bezz whines and the rest of the drivers laugh. Marc hums beside him.
“Too light. Make it a hundred.” Marc says. His tone is humorous, and he loves to tease Bezz. They all do.
Vale smiles.
“A hundred.” He affirms, pointing at Bezz with a lazy finger.
Bezz groans, dramatically throwing his hands in the air. Even from here, Vale can hear him cursing under his breath. But it was stupid mistake, and a champion should not make stupid mistakes. This was what training was for, after all. Plus, all the other boys will pay more attention now, out of fear they could be next.
But they aren’t yet, so they find it hilarious. They laugh and tease Bezz, and only when Vale shoots them a threatening look do they calm down and start riding again.
“You are sexy when you are harsh.” Marc murmurs to him, eyes bright.
Vale feels his throat tighten. His stomach warms. Marc shouldn’t be able to rile him with just a few words. He’s much too old for this.
“Ah,” Vale clears his throat, “That is….”
Marc laughs. He loves flustering Vale. Makes a sport of it. One time during a gala appearance he made a game of brushing his hand over Vale’s thighs every time he passed him. It had been torture. In response, Vale had squeezed his ass in the middle of an important chat with a MotoGP sponsor. Marc had squeaked and turned red. They were quietly asked to behave after that. It had been funny, but embarrassing.
So maybe they were not quite as discreet as Vale had said. Who cares. None of that nonsense matters anymore. Just Marc.
“My parents asked if you are coming for Christmas this year.” Marc asks as they watch the rest of training, shouting out pointers here and there.
“Of course.” Vale said immediately. Christmas with Marc’s family had been good last year. His parents had finally forgiven Vale, and when they pressed him into a hug and murmured their love, he believed them. And Marc had looked so happy. Even Alex smiled at Vale like he was glad he was there. Perhaps it had more to do with how Marc was floating on air that week than Vale’s presence, though. They loved their son. He knows it must have killed them to see Marc so destroyed the aftermath of their…..separation. He hopes to make it up to them, every day.
“Also, Uccio called before you woke up. Said its important.” Marc says.
Vale furrows his brow.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he complains.
Marc smiles innocently, and Vale snorts. This little war they still have is amusing but irritating. Both Uccio and Marc love Vale, but they still do little things to snipe at each other. Nothing major, a deleted message here, an ugly picture posted there. When Marc and Vale first started happening for real, Uccio had sighed and said he would never like Marc. But he also said that it was a long time coming and he was happy for Vale, so it was a win in its own way.
Vale calls to the boys, says he is heading inside, and Marc is in charge. They perk up but deflate when Marc immediately orders at least fifteen more laps out of everyone. The last thing he hears before his front door closes is Marc laughing evilly after ordering Franco to do an extra ten more for complaining too much.
Uccio picks up on the second ring.
“Vale.” he says, voice a little tight.
“You sound happy.” Vale says in response. He’s joking, obviously. Uccio sounds like someone died. God he hopes no one died.
“Sorry it took so long, Marc-“
“I don’t care,” Uccio interrupts, “have you seen it?”
Vale stops. That kind of sentence is never good. He is standing in the kitchen, and he leans against the counter, nervously running his knuckles over his forehead. The last time he had heard Uccio say that had been after Marc had that crash in 2020 and he found out about the surgery. Vale felt sick when he saw the damage. Even though he hated Marc then, he still ached for him in that moment. He almost called. He couldn’t. He isn’t quite sure what would have happened if he did. When he asked Marc once, the man had gone very quiet. Vale decided it was better not to know.
“No.” He responds, after realizing he hadn’t answered Uccio yet. Asking what he meant would be stupid. Uccio will explain.
Then there is a ding on his phone, and Uccio has sent him a text. A link to an article. Vale clicks on it with trepidation.
VALENTINO ROSSI AND MARC MARQUEZ CONFIRMED TO BE IN SHOCK RELATIONSHIP
The article is short, but true. There are pictures of them at a bar and Vale is holding Marc’s hand under the table. Another photo shows them on the street, and Vale is pressing a kiss into Marc’s neck. It says that they have been together since 2025 (not entirely true, but close enough) that they are in love (true) and that they are happy (also true). All too obvious to be argued away. Not the worst exposé, if he is being honest.
But Vale can’t find it in himself to care.
“Okay.” He says to Uccio, who is still on the phone.
“Okay?” Uccio repeats.
Vale shrugs, then remembers Uccio can’t see him.
“Ah, I shrugged.” He says.
He almost hears Uccio roll his eyes.
“Do you want to respond?” Uccio asks. Now that it is clear Vale is not upset, Uccio seems much calmer. Vale is happy his friend was worried for him. Always protective, Uccio. He suspects a small part of him was worried for Marc too, although he would never admit it. After all, out of the two of them Marc would get the most flack for this news. Vale is untouchable by these kinds of things at this point.
“Sure, tell them it is true. That is all.”
Uccio sighs, and his voice is tired when he responds.
“I’ll do that. Good luck with training.”
Then the phone call is over. Vale sits with it, for a moment. Everyone had sort of known. He supposes now they really will. That thought doesn’t faze him much.
“Good?” Marc asks once he has returned. He is still leaning against the fence, but now Cele is with him, panting and sitting as his feet like a pet. Vale will really have to tell him it’s getting to be a little much.
“Ah, they know. There was an article.” Vale says simply.
Cele startles, wide eyes darting up to him. But Marc simply nods, as unperturbed as Vale was. They had discussed this before, what to do. They decided they didn’t care. Not anymore. They had let the public and the press control how they acted for too long. Eventually you realize it is all just bull shit.
Cele is still looking at them, so Vale shoots him a reassuring smile. His boys can be protective, like Uccio. Vale finds in sweet. Marc laughs and runs a hand through their hair when it happens, and it makes them preen. Cele eventually settles after he reads their faces and realizes that they truly don’t care. And that is that.
As the sun sinks lower in the sky and the academy boys become a pile at their feet, Vale shifts closer to the warmth of Marc’s skin. He closes his eyes and breathes in the evening air. He hears the sound of his boy’s chatter, of leathers being ripped off and bikes being packed away. He hears the chirping of insects and the whoosh of breeze through trees. He hears Marc breathing smoothly beside him. And everything is good.
Vale wonder how he would have reacted in 2025 if he had told himself this. Or how he would have reacted in 2018. Or even 2015. Vale had been ruled by his anger for so long. It had turned him into a husk of himself and he had often felt like he was beyond fixing back then. But he wasn’t. He isn’t. Marc is beside him; his boys are at his feet. Everything got better. Not perfect of course. There are still days that old hate creeps in. But the love overwhelms it now, and he knows that every day will become easier and easier.
It will just take time.
The End