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The weekend had finally come to a close, and the paddock was slowly emptying. The hum of engines had faded into distant echoes, leaving only the soft rustle of team personnel packing up and the occasional beep of a logistics truck. Logan stretched his arms, rubbing the tension out of his shoulders, and let out a quiet sigh. The weekend had been long—more stressful than he’d anticipated—but now, with the track behind them and the noise quieted, he could finally relax.
He hadn’t expected Franco to be lingering in the garage when he returned from a short walk outside. The Argentine’s eyes lit up when he saw Logan, a grin spreading across his face like sunrise spilling across the horizon. Without a word, Franco closed the distance between them and practically collapsed into Logan, draping himself over Logan’s torso in a way that left him no choice but to brace his arms around him.
“Franco,” Logan laughed softly, shifting slightly so he could support him better. “You’re heavier than you look.”
Franco just hummed against him, burying his face into Logan’s neck. His happiness was practically radiating off him—so bright and unrestrained it made Logan’s chest tighten in the best way. His fingers threaded through Franco’s dark hair, stroking gently as he felt the steady, content rhythm of Franco’s breathing. It was… calming. Infectiously so. Logan couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.
“You’ve been running around all weekend,” Logan murmured, tilting his head just enough so Franco could press closer. “You need to rest, you know.”
“I’m resting now,” Franco mumbled, muffled against Logan’s skin. He wriggled slightly, nestling deeper, and Logan felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the garage heating. “This is… perfect.”
It was perfect, Logan realized, because he didn’t have to move, didn’t have to think about lap times or pit strategies. There were no fans, no cameras, no schedules. Just Franco, soft and warm, trusting him enough to be completely vulnerable. Logan’s hand moved to Franco’s back, fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns. “You’re lucky I like cuddles,” he teased lightly, although his voice held an undertone of something softer—fond, protective.
Franco let out a small, sleepy sigh. “I know,” he murmured, voice almost a whisper. “I just… like being with you.” His face stayed buried in Logan’s neck, and Logan could feel the subtle press of his cheek against his skin, the way his weight settled naturally over him. It wasn’t heavy, not really—it was comforting. Grounding.
“Me too,” Logan said softly. He leaned back slightly, careful not to disturb Franco’s position, letting the other driver drape over him however he wanted. “You can stay like this as long as you want.”
Franco hummed in agreement, and Logan could feel his whole body relax against him. He let himself be indulgent, brushing his fingers along Franco’s spine, tucking an arm securely around him, careful not to pinch or squish him. Every now and then, Franco would nuzzle closer, pressing warm lips to the hollow of Logan’s neck, and Logan would bite back a smile, pretending to be stern even as his heart fluttered.
“I swear,” Logan murmured teasingly, “if you fall asleep on me and drool, I’m keeping it as evidence.”
Franco lifted his head just enough to glance at him, eyes half-lidded and sparkling. “I trust you not to laugh,” he said, and then promptly rested his head back against Logan’s chest, sighing like the weight of the world had melted off him.
Logan chuckled quietly, heart swelling. He had seen a lot in the paddock—high speeds, tense battles, flashes of brilliance—but nothing quite like this. Nothing like the simplicity of Franco just… being here, draped over him, letting Logan take care of him without needing to say much.
“You know,” Logan said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Franco’s head, “I could get used to this.”
Franco made a happy, muffled noise, as though he understood perfectly and agreed wholeheartedly. “Good,” he whispered, voice thick with comfort, “because I’m not moving.”
Logan laughed softly, the sound low and warm in the quiet garage. “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to accept my fate.” He tugged Franco closer gently, adjusting so that Franco was curled more securely over him, limbs entwined in a lazy, perfect tangle. “You’re lucky you’re this cute.”
Franco’s answer was another soft sigh, almost sleepy, almost purring, as he tucked his face further into Logan’s neck. Logan could feel the small, happy shifts of Franco’s weight as he adjusted, trying to find the perfect position, and every motion made Logan’s chest tighten in the best way.
Logan smiled to himself, amused by how easily Franco’s joy filled the quiet around them. He traced small circles on Franco’s back, watching the faint rise and fall of his chest, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against him. It was a quiet kind of happiness—soft, steady, and completely real.
“Franco…” Logan murmured, voice low, fond, “you could stay like this forever, and I’d never complain.” He said it again, quieter this time, like he needed to hear it himself.
Another contented sigh, soft and satisfied, came as Franco relaxed further. “Then maybe I will,” he whispered.
Logan let out a quiet laugh, leaning his head back against the wall of the garage. He had always loved speed, adrenaline, the thrill of racing—but in this quiet moment, with Franco wrapped over him, nothing could compare. He could feel the bond between them in every gentle breath, every slight movement, every muffled murmur. And for once, there was no pressure, no expectation—just comfort, warmth, and the kind of closeness that made Logan’s chest feel impossibly full.
He pressed one last soft kiss to Franco’s temple, smiling down at him with a kind of pure, quiet fondness. “You’re mine, you know,” he said softly, almost to himself, almost teasing. “Completely.”
Franco stirred just a little, lifting his head to glance at him, eyes still half-lidded, trust and adoration shining in every blink. “I know,” he said simply. “And I like it.”
Logan grinned, letting himself relax fully into the moment, his hands still holding Franco close. There was speed in their lives, chaos in the paddock, but here—here was nothing but soft warmth and quiet contentment. And Logan couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
Franco nuzzled into him again, sighing contentedly. The happiness radiating off him was impossible to miss—like a wagging tail that didn’t need to exist for Logan to feel it.
And Logan didn’t mind at all.