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After the weekend of testing that led to things changing between them, Fermín and Pedro had gone back to exactly how they were before. No words exchanged unless they were catty jabs and snipes at each other. The other riders were getting frustrated. After all, the peace was very nice whilst it lasted.
Fermín sighs, reading over yet another text from Álex asking him to figure shit out before he snapped at Pedro. He wasn’t Fermín’s problem, and he kept reiterating that to Álex, but the older man ignored him.
And really, that was the problem, wasn’t it? Pedro wasn’t Fermín’s. As much as he wanted Pedro to be his, Fermín hadn’t quite figured out how to fix their friendship and turn it into a relationship, instead letting the pair of them fall back into easy squabbles and biting words.
Locking his phone and ignoring the newest text from Álex, Fermín starts getting ready to leave his hotel room. Back to the paddock, back to the bikes, back to the racing and, most importantly, back to Pedro. Back to the man who still haunts his nights, his moans and whimpers echoing throughout Fermín’s brain whenever he gets himself off. Back to all of it.
It doesn’t surprise him when he sighs again.
.ᐣ .ᐣ .ᐣ
Pedro’s already furiously rambling on about something when Fermín arrives at the paddock, the older man’s hands flying everyone as he illustrates his point. Something about the media being too invasive or something. Fermín can’t blame him for being upset about that topic.
Swerving around the group of KTM riders, Fermín heads straight for Gresini to figure out his schedule for the day. He vaguely remembers some bits of it, but his brain is frazzled, and he needs a reminder. He’s inches away from escaping the Spring sun that is eagerly beating down on his skin when fingers close around his wrist.
Fermín turns, eyebrows slotting together when he sees who stopped him. “Fabio? Everything okay?” Fermín asks. Fabio nods, a wide smile on his face. Fermín can spot a few other riders hanging back, staring at the duo, and Fermín squirms his wrist out of Fabio’s grip, already aware what’s happening. “Say it already.”
“You and Pedro, eh? Didn’t see that one coming,” Fabio says. Fermín sighs, rolling his eyes and pinching at the bridge of his nose. Fabio chuckles softly and pats him on the shoulder. “Congrats. And also good luck. He’s a handful, no?”
“It’s not like that. I don’t even really know what happened. Nothing’s really changed, has it?” Fermín grumbles. The more he thinks about it, the worse he feels, and that doesn’t account for how awful he feels talking about it all.
“Wait, what? But…” Fabio trails off, biting his bottom lip as his eyebrows furrow. Fermín huffs.
“It was a one time thing, I guess. He’s back to biting with words instead of his teeth,” Fermín hisses out before sighing and muttering an apology to the older man under his breath. “The confusion is affecting me as much as it’s affecting you, I promise.”
“Wow…” Fabio breathes out. Fermín hums in agreement before sighing once more and turning back to the door. The sun is starting to make him sweat
“See ya.”
“Wait, Fermín!” Fabio calls out, but it’s too late. Fermín’s already inside the Gresini garage, the door slamming shut behind him with a loud clang. The sound reverberates through his skull as Fermín tries to bite back his tears. A traitorous drop drips from his bottom lash, and he huffs, storming through the garage without stopping for anybody.
He’s done with people already and it’s only been twenty minutes.
.ᐣ .ᐣ .ᐣ
The first free practice session goes smoothly, and Fermín feels just as confident on the bike as always, a sweaty but happy look on his face when he removes his helmet for the final time. The team show him the data, comparing it with Álex’s, before sending him off to do whatever he wants in his free time.
A shower. A shower is what Fermín wants.
Crossing to his motorhome, Fermín finds himself too consumed by his thoughts to notice the figure on his steps until he’s close enough that they’re unavoidable. Fermín’s heart jumps into his throat once he realises who it is.
“Pedro.”
“Hola, Fer. Can I come in?” Pedro asks. His voice is bright and happy and if Fermín didn’t know any better, he’d think the two of them were friends. But that’s not true, hasn’t been for years, so he remains on edge, reluctantly agreeing and stepping past the other rider to open his door.
“Come in, make yourself at home. I’m just gonna shower first,” Fermín says. He goes to walk off when Pedro’s hand closes around his bicep, grip strong. He looks back at Pedro, watching as the older man bites at his lip, eyes down and avoiding Fermín’s. “What?”
“Let me join,” Pedro spits out, a splotchy blush staining his cheeks. Fermín’s cock stirs to life in response, and he swallows thickly, spit heavy with want as it slides down his throat. Pedro looks up at him, eyes shaky with nerves. Fermín dives forward, hands cupping Pedro’s face as he kisses him, the action messy with spit and desire.
Without hesitation, Fermín lifts Pedro up, growling lowly when Pedro whimpers into his mouth, his legs lacing around Fermín’s waist as he claws and tugs at Fermín’s hair. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” Fermín pants against Pedro’s mouth. Pedro smirks and tugs Fermín’s head back, lips going towards his neck.
“Good.”
.ᐣ .ᐣ .ᐣ
“It happened again, didn’t it?”
Fermín squints against the bright sunshine as he looks up, eyes soon making out Álex towering over him. He huffs and rolls his eyes, looking back down at his phone. Álex chuckles softly and sits next to him on the floor, softly patting at Fermín’s knee.
“It happens to the best of us,” Álex shrugs and Fermín hums. He knows that much is true – lord knows you don’t grow up in the world of motorbike racing during the era of Valentino Rossi and Marc Marquez and not learn the messy details of their relationship – but it still feels bitter and sickly in his chest.
“Feel stupid,” Fermín weakly mumbles. Álex hums in understanding and shifts closer, tugging Fermín into a side hug. Fermín practically melts at the affection, heart fond.
“It’ll work out. It always does. Can’t say if it’ll be messy or not, though,” Álex chuckles. Fermín huffs out a breath of laughter, already having some ideas about what Álex could be referencing in his head.
“Speaking from experience?” Fermín inquires. Álex sighs then, deep and heavy in his chest. Fermín feels it rattle through his own ribcage, a shared sense of understanding flickering within his gut.
“Not my own,” Álex says. Fermín knows what he means. It was no secret that Marc was fucked up after everything with Vale, and of course his brother was there to pick up the pieces. He always was. Fermín’s always admired that about Álex. “If you want me to knock some sense into Pedro though, I happily will.”
Fermín hums distractedly before registering what Álex said, sitting up with a jolt. “Don’t you dare hurt him!” Álex laughs loudly at that, the sound echoing within the small area the two were in, sun still beating down on them. Fermín blushes and curls in on himself, embarrassed by his outburst.
“I won’t do the shark any harm. But seriously, you should speak to him, Fermín,” Álex soothes, patting at Fermín’s thigh. Fermín huffs before smiling at the man in front of him. He gets a smile in return before someone coughs and disrupts them. It’s a member of Gresini, someone from Álex’s team that Fermín doesn’t recognise.
“Go on, I’ll be fine,” Fermín says, dismissing Álex when the older man asks if he’ll be okay on his own. Once he’s alone, Fermín lays down on the floor, sighing and squinting up into the sunshine-glazed blue sky above him.
He’s fucked.
.ᐣ .ᐣ .ᐣ
Fermín’s minding his own business, eating his lunch in peace, when new presences have him looking up from the article he’s reading on his phone. It’s Bez and Pecco standing before him, the two wearing matching curious expressions. Fermín tilts his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowing when Bez smiles in response and takes a seat, Pecco copying him.
“Hi?”
“What’s the deal with you and Pedro?” Bez says, cutting to the point. Fermín huffs and sinks lower in his chair, annoyance clouding his thoughts and feelings. Pecco at least has the nerve to smile apologetically. Bez is still cheesing.
“Nothing.”
“Oh come on, we all know that’s not true!” Bez chortles. Fermín is seconds away from potentially making an enemy for life right now because if Bez doesn’t calm down, Fermín might have to kick him. And that would probably make Pedro hate him, so never mind. Idea scrapped.
“We keep seeing each other but it’s not going anywhere else. That’s all,” Fermín deadpans. The look he sends is probably more venomous than need be but thankfully, Bez laughs it off. Pecco’s eyes scan over Fermín’s face, calculating and discerning and-
“You’re in love with him.” Fermín blushes and ducks his head down, the heat intensifying when Bez gasps. The table rattles as he grabs it, steadying himself from his shock at what Pecco just said.
“No fucking way.”
“It’s true,” Fermín mumbles before lifting his head up, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “And he doesn’t feel the same.”
“Okay, that’s also not true,” Pecco says, voice sharp. Fermín turns to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Pecco turns a bit pink at that and Fermín instantly realises Pedro had told Pecco something that probably shouldn’t have been brought up or repeated to Fermín. Pecco refuses to say anything further. Bez, on the other hand, has no such qualms.
“That’s right! Pedro went on that really long rant about how he likes you, but he thinks you still hate him and are just using him for the sex,” Bez chirps. Two pairs of eyes turn to him and his smile drops, confusion replacing it. Fermín abruptly stands up, his chair clattering to the ground behind him before he storms off.
As he walks away, Fermín can vaguely hear Pecco hissing at Bez for being a dickhead.
.ᐣ .ᐣ .ᐣ
Fermín doesn’t hesitate in slamming the door to Pedro’s motorhome open. It’s empty bar the older man, and Fermín is grateful. He kicks the door shut, glare fixed on Pedro throughout the entire ordeal.
“Are you fucking insane? What’s wrong with you?” Pedro growls, hackles raised, and teeth bared. Like a dumb dog. Fermín’s anger wins over his desire to comfort and soothe Pedro though, his own teeth baring in repsonse.
“I’m just using you for the sex, huh? Is that all you fucking think of me?” Fermín hisses out, flecks of spit flying from his mouth. Anger surges through every vein in his body and he wants to lash out harder, to bite and scratch until Pedro is whining underneath him, begging for Fermín and promising to be good. Even that thought makes him feel guilty.
“W-where did you hear that?” Pedro whimpers. The vicious dog look from earlier is gone, replaced by a sodden desperation that makes Fermín’s heart clench uncomfortably tight, his anger melting away in an instant. His thoughts become a gelatinous symphony of soothe, soothe, soothe.
“Bez told me,” Fermín responds. He’s not yelling anymore, not spitting, just confused. This entire situation is making his head spin, and he can’t figure shit out. Seems to be a trend at the moment.
“Oh.”
“Well?” Fermín prompts. “Do you really think that little of me?”
“No, but-“
“But what?” Fermín spits. The anger inside him resurfaces, messy and churned up, gritty with his own spilled guts. He feels pathetic. “Actually, don’t answer that. Just…” Fermín doesn’t finish. He turns on his heel and rips open the door to Pedro’s motorhome.
“Fer, wait!” Pedro calls out, but Fermín doesn’t respond, just continue storming off. He notes the lack of footsteps following him and scoffs. Of course. Of course Pedro wouldn’t follow him. Why would he?
Fermín needs to squash these feelings.
.ᐣ .ᐣ .ᐣ
The rest of the race weekend passes in a blur. Fermín barely remembers it. A handful of points in the sprint, another in the grand prix. When Álex and Marc invite him out to celebrate another of their shared podiums, he eagerly jumps at the chance to drown his sorrows in copious amounts of shitty liquor.
He’s halfway through his fourth drink when it’s plucked away from him, a stern looking Álex holding it above Fermín’s head. “You need to stop.”
“Why?”
“Because drinking your feelings away isn’t a good idea,” Álex tuts. He hands the glass back and Fermín immediately downs the remainder of the contents, sighing as it burns down his throat. Hurts less than seeing Pedro’s face every day, his eyes stony and guarded once more.
Marc joins them at the table a few moments later, three bottles dangling from his fingertips. Fermín eagerly snatches up the one offered to him, smacking his lips after tasting the sweet drink. Marc giggles excitedly, clearly tipsy, before he takes a seat as well, leaning across the table to stare sparkly eyed at Fermín.
“You. Why is your boyfriend sad?” Marc drawls, his accent thicker under the effects of alcohol. Fermín sees Álex wince out of the corner of his eyes and agrees with the action, but he doesn’t tear his eyes from Marc’s.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Fermín says back, copying Marc’s slanted posture and widened eyes. Sure, Marc didn’t say a name, but Fermín isn’t stupid. Even in his half-drunken state, Fermín knows that Marc means Pedro. Marc tsks at him and flicks his forehead lightly before leaning back and sitting properly. Fermín does the same.
“Why did I overhear him telling Enea that you are then?” Marc smirks at him, eyebrow raised in a gotcha. Fermín chokes on his drink, the liquid very nearly spraying across the table. Álex gently knocks against his back before turning to face Marc.
“When did you hear that?” Álex says, asking the very question sitting on the tip of Fermín’s still useless tongue. Marc taps the table as he sips, eyes wide over the glass. Fermín’s heart skips uselessly.
“Here? He’s here?” Fermín hisses. He looks around wildly, eyes soon landing on a familiar figure. Fermín studies him. Pedro’s hair is tousled, seemingly wet in some places and his head is thrown back, barking laughter not audible to Fermín’s desirous mind. His shirt is tight, hugging the waist Fermín has spent many nights dreaming of, and his legs are clad in such tight jeans that Fermín’s mind starts imagining how easy it’d be to rile Pedro up and leave him stuck with a visible boner.
“Do you wanna drool any harder?” Marc’s voice cuts through Fermín’s daydreaming and he blinks rapidly, eyes wide and cheeks burning when he turns back to Marc and Álex. Marc snorts in laughter before cursing when he knocks his drink and spills it. Fermín falls into laughter at that, thoughts of Pedro and his soft hair and slim waist and him calling Fermín his boyfriend to Enea slipping to the wayside.
Fermín doesn’t notice it when Pedro turns to stare at him, eyes full of sadness and longing.
.ᐣ .ᐣ .ᐣ
When Fermín wakes up the next morning, there’s another person’s phone on the bedside table and an insistent pounding in his head. He groans and buries his face in the pillow, unaware of the newcomer in the room.
“You’re awake then.” Fermín’s head snaps up and he catches the briefest glimpse of Pedro before he’s falling into the pillow again, a louder groan leaving his mouth. Moving that fast is not good for his head. Noted.
“Where am I?” Fermín grumbles, voice groggy and rough with sleep. Pedro huffs and walks over to him, holding out a bottle of water and two small pills. Fermín shuffles around until he’s leaning against the headboard, the sheets twisted around his bare legs. Wait– “Did you get me undressed?!”
“I wasn’t letting you sleep in jeans, was I?” Pedro huffs, shaking the water bottle at him again. Fermín takes the bottle and accepts the pills, quickly swallowing them down with a slight grimace. God, his head hurts. He should not have drank that much. Then again, Marc insisted on doing shots (three rounds of them, the bastard), so maybe Fermín can blame him instead.
“You’re in my hotel. You showed up here last night, begged for my forgiveness and kissed me in the most disgusting way possible before passing out in my bed,” Pedro explains. Fermín blushes harder with each word that leaves Pedro’s soft-looking lips.
“Sorry,” Fermín mutters, his head throbbing at his temples again. Pedro sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, fingers deftly playing with Fermín’s hand, thumbing over the knuckles and dragging the tips over Fermín’s palm.
“I’m the one who should be apologising,” Pedro says. His voice shakes and Fermín’s breath hitches. Pedro curses under his breath before swiping at his eyes. Without hesitation, Fermín pulls the older man into his lap, Pedro instantly curling up and crying into his chest. Fermín’s heart breaks.
“Shush, Pedro, it’s okay,” Fermín soothes, but Pedro hisses at that, pulling back and baring his teeth at Fermín. The effect is greatly ruined by the tears steadily streaming down Pedro’s cheeks. Fermín gently wipes them away, heart clenching tightly when Pedro sniffles and hiccups. He’s not seen Pedro cry like this since they were kids. It’s a bit jarring.
“Is not okay! I hurt you!” Pedro sobs. Fermín pulls him into a kiss, ignoring the salty tears that sting his bottom lip. Pedro makes a noise against his lips and tries to pull back but Fermín kisses harder, coaxing the older man to respond. Like something has been unlocked, Pedro pushes into the kiss more, his fingers scrabbling to tangle themselves in Fermín’s knotted black hair.
When they part, panting breaths filling the room, Fermín breaks the silence first. “Yes you hurt me, but I should’ve stayed and listened to you. Instead I stormed off,” Fermín murmurs softly, nuzzling his nose along Pedro’s cheek. Pedro sniffles, a small whine leaving his mouth.
“I could’ve chased after you,” Pedro says.
“True. But we both made mistakes. Maybe we should try and avoid making them from now on,” Fermín huffs, amused. Pedro scowls at him before leaning in to kiss him once more, a soft hum falling from his lips when Fermín reciprocates instantly.
When Pedro grinds his hips downwards, Fermín groans and pulls away, eyes hazy with lust. Pedro bites his lip, a teasing smile clearly being suppressed by the sharp teeth. Fermín rolls his eyes fondly before he surges upwards, pushing Pedro onto his back as he kisses him again, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt.
Pedro lets him tug it off without hesitation, their lips reconnecting seconds later. His fingers grip at Fermín’s shoulders as he moans sweetly, tugging and pushing at Fermín as he tries to get more and more. Fermín pulls away with a rough chuckle, eyes dark with lust and desire.
“I like that you think you’re in control here.”
.ᐣ .ᐣ .ᐣ
Fermín yawns. Triple headers were never nice to his body or his sleep cycle. They’re only on race two and he’s already exhausted. Álex smiles at him whereas Marc laughs, the sound bright and cheerful.
“You’ll get used to it,” Marc says, laughter still eeking out in his words. Álex huffs and rolls his eyes fondly at his brother before fully turning to face Fermín.
“Did you speak to Pedro yet?” Álex asks, eyes full of genuine concern. Fermín goes to respond when a door behind him slams open, all three occupants of the table turning to see what’s happening. It’s Pedro, a single red rose held in his fist and a triumphant smirk on his face.
“Mi rosa!” Pedro shouts, running over to Fermín. He gives him the rose and kisses him before running back out of the building, his cackling laughter echoing behind him as he goes. Many pairs of eyes turn from the now shutting doors to Fermín, a wide array of expressions on show. Fermín’s cheeks are bright red as he stares at the rose in front of him, a soft smile gracing his lips. Álex snorts next to him.
“That’s a yes then.”