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He’d ended up with some of Damon’s data sheets. It was dark out by now - Jacques didn’t bother to look at anything for a while, since they’d both done well out on the track - but…if Damon noticed, he might get mad. And while part of Jacques dared the idea of Damon to even try to get mad at him for a team mix up, a bigger part of him didn’t want to even imagine the older man being angry with him. It made him almost anxious, in fact. But he was pushing that aside, setting apart any data sheets that he knew weren’t his to take over to the other motorhome, and only looking at them a little bit.
Once Jacques was extremely sure that he wasn’t getting anything else mixed up, not wanting to give Damon his own data, he popped over to the next motorhome and got ready to knock, pausing for a moment when he heard a noise. Music. A guitar, to be precise, and played…well, it sounded like if Damon was playing, he was learning something new, because it was just the same few notes over and over. Either that, or the old guy was in there with a broken record. Now curious to find out which it was, Jacques knocked, loud and abrupt in the otherwise quiet twilight.
The music stopped – so Damon had been playing, then – and Jacques rocked on his heels as he waited for the door in front of him to open. As he waited, he shivered, and didn’t know if it was from anticipation or the fact that he’d left his own motorhome without putting his shoes on. Either way, he didn’t have to think about it very long, because the door was opening and there was his teammate, gangly frame taking up the little doorway, backlit by what looked like warm lamplight. For a second, Jacques thought he looked quite handsome, even if he was just standing there in jeans and a t-shirt, but only for a second. Less than a second. So little time that it couldn’t even be counted as a real thought, as far as Jacques was concerned, as long as he didn’t keep thinking about the fact he was still thinking about it.
“Jacques?” One syllable was all it took to snap him back to the real world. Even though Damon had been able to do that the entire time they’d known each other, Jacques had never really gotten used to it. “What’s up?”
“Oh. They got some of your data mixed with mine.” Did he always sound this lame? He didn’t think he did.
One of Damon’s dark eyebrows rose, almost questioning. “Okay. Well, go get yours and we’ll look over everything. Since you looked at mine.”
Jacques wanted to lie, to protest that actually, he hadn’t done anything like that at all and how dare Damon even think about accusing him of something like that. But then Damon was taking the paper from his hands, then putting a hand on either of Jacques’ shoulders, turning the younger man back towards his own motorhome and giving him an encouraging little push start. Jacques wanted to be angry when he heard the door close, but his body was already listening to his teammate’s suggestion. Jacques tried to justify it to himself that fair was fair, and that this had been his idea in the first place, not Damon’s. It half worked, by the time he was grabbing the folder he’d left in his own motorhome. It failed again when he found himself back on Damon’s step. At least he could let himself in now.
Damon was already sitting at the little kitchen table near the window, looking too tall by half for the small setting. When Jacques sat across from him, he fit just right. And when Damon glanced up at him with a tiny little Damon Grin, well, he felt more right. Because his teammate wasn’t being an asshole, and no other reason.
“Where’d your glasses go?” Damon asked quietly, turning his attention back to the pile of paper in front of him, and it served as a reminder that Jacques had tucked them into his shirt pocket at some point between all of the eye-rubbing he’d been doing earlier in the evening.
“Why did you notice my glasses weren’t on before I did?” Jacques questioned back, unable to keep a tinge of disbelief out of his voice as he fished the glasses from their spot and slid them on.
“I notice a lot of things.” Jacques watched one skinny shoulder shrug, and one thin hand flip over a piece of paper, before reaching for Jacques’ folder. Jacques didn’t even have time to react, to pull his things away, to keep everything to himself, before Damon tapped a place on the first sheet. “Like you lost time in this corner.”
Okay, so Damon could tell what one of his weak points was in less than a second. That wasn’t worrying at all. Jacques felt himself make a face before he could keep it still, and heard Damon…chuckle, maybe?
“Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal. I used to do the same thing,” the older man assured. “It feels like you should break that early, but you don’t have to. You’ll get used to it by next year. Here, let me find mine…”
Jacques didn’t know what to say to that. The one guy with equal machinery was…apparently steering him correctly? And not trying to fuck him over. In fact, Damon was just now finding the matching data sheet in his mixed-up pile, turning it so that Jacques could see and pointing out the corresponding spots.
“See? That’s what I did.”
“Yeah…” was all Jacques could manage, because even though he wanted to ask Damon what the game was, he couldn’t. He actually wanted to take the advice he was being given. What the world was coming to, the younger man didn’t know.
And before he knew it, an hour had passed, an hour of Damon just giving him pointers in the nicest way possible. Sure, it was after the race, but that didn’t seem to matter, because it was still nice. No strings attached nice, which Jacques wasn’t used to. And somewhere in that hour, Jacques remembered that he was supposed to meet up with some of the other drivers, DC and one of the Mikas, for drinks and a night out…but he wanted to stay with Damon, so he did. Like it was completely normal to ignore a lot of fun to look at a bunch of lines and numbers with Damon Hill, of all people.
“Didn’t anyone invite you anywhere?” Jacques ventured after a while, luckily not in the middle of Damon’s last sentence, though it had been close.
He watched Damon chuckle, and glance up at him. Damon had really pretty eyelashes. Why was he only now noticing that? “Yeah, David did. I was going to go meet him when you showed up.”
If Jacques hadn’t already been staring at Damon, he would have started then. “What? David? Coulthard?”
“Yeah, the one I was teammates with last year? Why?” Damon looked up at him, clearly amused. “Were you supposed to go meet up with him and Hakkinen?”
Oh, that was the Mika that was going. “Yeah…after I dropped off your stuff. You wanted to do all this with me instead?”
“Could ask you the same thing. At least I’m old enough that I could throw my back out, going somewhere with DC.” And Damon said it so bluntly that Jacques had to laugh. Only after the laugh did Damon smile. Jacques wondered if he needed to ask the team doctor about heart palpitations.
“I got distracted,” the younger man replied, completely honest with Damon and himself…for once. “We could probably still catch them. If you wanted.”
Jacques watched Damon run a hand through his hair as he considered the offer, dark eyes glancing out the window at nothing. It had gotten dark enough that they could barely see Jacques’ motorhome. “Hm…Nah, I’m okay with just you.”
Yep. Definitely needed to check with the team doctor about heart palpitations. As soon as tomorrow, probably. “Okay, you asked for it. Do you have beer at least? And can we do something that isn’t staring at paper, because I’m going to need a new prescription on these glasses soon if we keep this up.”
Now it was Damon’s turn to laugh, even as he stood and stretched, moving towards the motorhome’s fridge. “Damn, I guess reading Lord of the Rings is out?” he joked, and Jacques barely heard him because he was too busy staring.
There was a small pause, as Damon grabbed two of the closest beers and handed one to him. But then Jacques had to ask the question. “You…do you actually have a set? Of Lord of the Rings? Here?”
Damon paused, and…was that a blush? “Yeah, I’ve been trying to read them again. I don’t exactly have all the free time in the world.”
“What editions do you have?”
Another pause, as Damon fixed him with a confused little look. “First,” he answered after a moment. “Hardback.”
Jacques felt himself sit up straighter, head already on a swivel as he looked for where Damon could possibly be hiding treasure like that. “Can I see them? Please?” Another pause. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He couldn’t even tell if it was confusion still, or if Damon was impressed, or maybe both. “Just didn’t know you liked stuff like that. I’ll grab them. Make yourself comfy, if you want.”
As Damon disappeared, back into the little bedroom, Jacques allowed himself to take his glasses off and close the data sheets back into their folder. Now he knew he sounded lame, asking what edition of a fantasy book a man owned, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Because apparently, when it came to nerdy things Jacques wouldn’t dare bring up around other drivers, he’d met his match. With Damon. Instead of acknowledging the blush that was creeping onto his cheeks when he thought about ‘meeting his match’ with another man, the young man took a sip of his beer and moved to the tiny couch, only half a step away. If he was going to be a nerd in front of someone, he might as well be comfortable.
“Budge up,” he heard Damon say, and without a second thought, Jacques did, making room for the other man to sit next to him. And there was the first book, a red eye on black looking up at him from a white cover, handed over with casual ease like it wasn’t treasure.
It took a lot of willpower for Jacques not to snatch, carefully taking the book and flipping it open. On the inside cover was Damon’s name, written in pen.
“You didn’t write that,” Jacques stated. He could tell from one of the middle names. The ‘Graham’ was familiar.
“No. Dad did.”
Jacques flipped the page like it would scald them if he stayed, even though Damon didn’t seem that bothered. But Jacques knew what it was like to think of your dad. It wasn’t fun. It hurt. And for some reason, part of him didn’t want any part of Damon to be hurt. “It’s a pretty book. You’ve had them since they came out?”
“I’m not that old,” Damon protested, though half heartedly. “I got those when I was ten.”
“So you’ve had them longer than I’ve been alive.”
“...Shut up.”
Jacques grinned, first to himself, then at Damon, leaning back into the couch cushions…and maybe a little closer to the other man, flipping to the first real page. Concerning Hobbits.
“I thought you didn’t want to look at paper,” Damon commented, reaching across the little gap between the couch and the table to retrieve Jacques’ glasses for him, handing them over with no further comment.
“That’s before I knew you had this. I’m borrowing it.” After all, after he had his glasses back on, he couldn’t see a bookmark, or any dog ears. Thank god, he didn’t know what he’d do if Damon was the kind of guy to dog ear a first edition.
“Okay, you’re borrowing it,” Damon agreed easily, and Jaques was a little too busy looking at the page to notice an arm resting on the back of the couch behind him. “But what am I supposed to do? I can’t read my book, I can’t go meet up with David because someone’s in my motorhome…”
“Guess you’ll have to stay put,” Jacques replied flippantly, before deciding fuck it all and leaning into Damon’s side. The arm that was draped on the back of the couch fell easily onto his shoulder. Jacques felt like he was winning something.
“Oh, so now you’re trapping me.” It was the fakest complaint that Jacques had heard from the older man, who was grinning when Jacques looked over at him.
“Yep.” A quick confirmation, and back to the book, flipping a page he hadn’t actually finished. This was a game, he’d decided, though he was wondering how quickly they’d get to the goal.
“And what do I get, if you’ve got my book and I’m trapped here?” Damon asked. And there it was. That was quick.
Jacques turned a little, looking up at Damon, the older man’s eyebrow raised at him almost teasingly. Okay. Yeah, they could play that game. And if they were going to play that, Damon didn’t need a real answer. He just needed Jacques leaning in and giving him a thank you kiss.
“There. That’s worth it,” Jacques decided for them both, turning back to the book and not seeing a single word.
“Uh. No.”
And he didn’t complain when Damon took his book back and gave Jacques something much better to do with his night. Later, in the little motorhome bedroom, with a lanky arm wrapped around his middle, Jacques decided he needed to ‘study his data’ with Damon more often. Clearly, that was the best use of his time.