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Marco parked the car at a garage close to the hotel Marc was staying at. He waited patiently until it was shortly before 5pm to head over to the hotel to meet up with Marc.
This was going to be awkward. But here he was, wrapped in a thick jacket, scarf almost hiding half his face, his curls tucked in a beanie and hands, despite wearing gloves, stuck in the pockets of his jacket. The short walk from the garage to the hotel entrance made Marco shiver and get an uncomfortable feeling about the whole situation.
What if that was a bluff? And Marc was already heading back to Spain?
No one was standing outside and Marco was freezing too much to wait around, so he entered the lobby and took a deep breath. There was still christmas decoration adorning the furniture and staff was greeting him friendly. He looked around for any other person dressed ready to go to Antarctica, but found no one.
Was he at the right hotel?
Marco checked the message Marc had sent him just yesterday, and checked the address.
“Marco-!"
Suddenly he felt two strong hands on his shoulder and he was turned around, Marc smiling brightly at him.
"Nice to see you, how are you!”
Marc started to pull out a beanie from his pocket, along with a scarf and wrapped himself up to go out. He was wearing a neat coat, front still open and as soon as they went out, the snow was blowing right at their faces again.
“It’s so cold here, I was not expecting this weather.”
Marc looked left and right before crossing the street, Marco following him silently. He didn’t really know what to do or say, so he let Marc guide the way.
“Are you hungry? Because I am and this restaurant, I wanted to try the last time I was here, but they were closed unfortunately."
Marco admitted that he too was hungry and that he’s never been to any restaurant in Borgo before. It wasn’t a city he visited often, and even if, he lived close by and could head home.
Apparently Marc had made a reservation and when they entered the dining area, Marco wanted to flee again. This was some high class restaurant and he was definitely not dressed appropriately for this establishment. He needed to let Marc know before they sat down and got thrown out right away again.
"Marc, Marc wait. I don’t think I can go in there.” Marco gestured to his pants and jacket, but the Spaniard simply shook his head and told him to follow the waiter.
They got sat at a cosy window booth, with candles lit and got water filled in their glasses. Marc casually asked for a wine recommendation while Marco tried to get out of his jacket and make himself as presentable as possible. Which, next to Marc, this seemed impossible.
He was wearing a fluffy white quarter zip to his black dresspants, even his hair was still looking styled after wearing a beanie. And Marco, he wore a print shirt and a red flannel over it with his curls going off in all directions.
They looked like they were on a date and Marco didn’t get the memo for the dress code.
“Did you get new earrings?" Marc asked while Marco was looking around, taking little sips of water.
"Huh, what? Yes, yes I got them for christmas from.. from the academy guys.”
Marco tried to be careful. He didn’t know how much of “Valentino” would be too much and ruin this evening and whatever this was between them. But it felt nice, to not be shoved away and into a box of immature Vale-impersonators. He’d followed that role for long enough.
“That’s a kind gesture."
Marco was glad when the waiter came and poured Marc a glass of white wine along with some aperitivi. He informed them about the kitchen opening at 7 and Marc only smiled and thanked him to make him go away.
That was still 2 hours.
"What did you do for christmas?”
It was a safe question. Everyone was curious about what others did for the holidays and it gave plenty of material to talk about. Hell, Marco didn’t even know any Spanish traditions and now he could ask, even if it was for the sake of making time pass.
“Ah, shouldn’t you know?” Marc smiled and took a sip of the wine. Marco leaned forward and cleared his throat. Why was everyone always talking in riddles with him.
"I mean, you are following my activities, liking my posts.” - "It’s, I mean, it’s not like-"
“It’s PR, I know.”
Marc put the glass down and leaned back, looked out of the window. It was getting dark so quickly and there were few people outside to really look at. Marco tried following Marc’s gaze, looked over to the Spaniard, watched his jaw clench and unclench.
"Aprilia’s doing a pretty good job at it.”
Marco felt like a puppy that got kicked. He didn’t want to be the team’s toy and play along their silly games. Even if it earned him more respect on the grid, life had gotten so much more complicated and he had to rethink his word choices all the time.
“Well, Aprilia didn’t make me come here! So…"
Marco took one of the aperitivi and leaned back too, mirroring Marc’s pose. Marc looked over, gave him a hard to define glance.
“So…”
It was unnerving, and Marco didn’t know what to do, so he leaned forward again and suddenly had a revelation. Ducati didn’t make Marc reach out to him.
"Then my charm worked.” Marco prided himself and leaned forward in a more relaxed way. Marc let out a huff, smiled too. He was watching Marco from behind the wine glass, as he fumbled a pack of cards out of his pockets to show him a magic trick. It was as silly as the PR situation and Marc only complied because what else was there to do.
"When I win, I get to hear about your holidays.” Marco announced proudly and held up a hand of cards for Marc to pick one.
“And when you lose?"
Marco shifted, let Marc pull one card out of them and have him remember it.
"You can find out how much is PR and how much is me liking you.”
Marc ended up a whole bottle of wine deep into telling Marco about the walk he took with Alex and the dogs and how scared he got when a deer crossed their path and that Alex joked about it for days on end. What their parents had cooked for dinner and that he surely must have gained 10 kilos and no, whatever Marco said, that it was fine, he had to train properly now. And Marco too told him about the New Years Eve party and that Rubik was doing well with fireworks, but they always kept him in the basement where it was quiet.
"How did you actually know about the video?” Marco asked after a while. Marc had excitedly told him the day they filmed Alex and Fermin and they were crying from all the laughing.
"Because I’m in it too, they wanted to make sure it’s okay for both of us.”
Marco cringed and turned to the side to take a breath. So he had seen this video too and did nothing to stop them from posting it?
“Why did you let them post it then?” Marco laughed. It had been fun and just jokes. Although the topic hadn’t really died down at the Ranch, Marco was sure it would happen whenever a new video would surface.
Marc only so shrugged and then chuckled, Marco wouldn’t be here to help carry his drunk ass back to the hotel.
"When you want to go back, we can do any time. I don’t mind.” Marco got a bit serious, had registered that Marc gotten tipsy rather fast. Although they had a really good time, he didn’t want to overdo, especially not if he didn’t know what was okay for Marc.
"Wow, already asking me to go back to the hotel…” Marc whispered behind the napkin and laughed even more at the face Marco made.
“I’ll bring you to the lobby and tell you good night and then drive home, yeah yeah!”
Marco felt a blush creeping up his neck at being played by a drunk Marc. Maybe it was good he was sober, or else he’d be rougher and start talking about things, that seemed so irrelevant tonight.
"Are you not enjoying yourself here! I thought it would be nice to sit down for dinner if you’re already coming …”
Marc stopped and gestured between them instead. Marco only nodded, watched as Marc got quiet and put the cutlery aside.
"It’s not that long of a drive. And I am happy I did this.” - "Even if it were only for 5 minutes?" - “Yeah, sure."
Marc took the wine glass and emptied it in one go, leaned back to watch Marco finish the pasta. The restaurant had filled completely but in their booth the buzzing noise didn’t interrupt them. It did feel oddly intimate, especially once other, clearly couples, people came in and sat down around them.
It turned out to be a quiet pleasant evening and when Marc got up to leave for the toilet real quick (he paid, obviously) Marco thought about what Pecco had said.
He’s not so bad.
"Let’s go? Remember, you have to bring me to my room.”
Marc was standing straight and not even lulling, but Marco took the bait and gave him a smirk, asked if he paid already. Of course he did, it was Marc’s invitation after all and he made Marco drive here in cold and bad weather.
"I told you already, I don’t mind!” Marco chuckled and they got back into the hotel, stepped forward to the lift. The snow had gotten the better of them and Marco ran a hand through his hair, trying to get the snowflakes out before his hair would be damp and uncomfortable.
“It’s been a nice evening and you were here for work, so I hope you could enjoy yourself."
Marc turned half way around and glanced over his shoulder as they made their way through the hallways. It was a chic hotel, but Marco wasn’t surprised, given the centrality of the hotel and the restaurant, and well, Marc.
“I did, I did actually greatly enjoy the evening."
He unlocked the door and walked in, threw off his coat and scarf and walked over to the window, assuming Marco would also follow and close the door behind them. As Marc didn’t hear the door clicking, he turned around to face Marco, who stood in the doorframe, unsure what to do with himself.
“It’s late already, huh. You will want to head back home."
Of course, Marc could simply slip out of his clothes and into the bedsheets now, but for Marco this was a one-hour car ride away. Marco took this as his sign to leave and walked up in a friendly manner to say his good byes.
“The handshake, right?"
Marc had already forgotten about this by the blank expression he gave Marco. He rolled his eyes at the realisation and then stretched his hand forward too, muscle memory doing the rest and pulling Marco in a tight hug. Marc sighed into Marco’s jacket, apologised for “muscle memory, you know”.
Marco’s brain was on auto pilot too and he pulled Marc closer to himself. He allowed himself to smile and enjoy this moment, even if it felt a bit stilted and stiff. They weren’t really used to each other, but after tonight, maybe those PR duties weren’t all humbug.
When Marco arrived at home late in the night, Rubik was excitedly wagging his tail and greeting him. Marco was grinning ear to ear upon seeing him again and told him he’d had a fantastic evening. Because, truth be told, he had very much enjoyed Marc’s company and he’d happily meet up with him again, should the Spaniard have more work related trips to Borgo before the season would start.
Marc had also written to give him a heads up as soon as he’d arrived at home, which Marco promptly did, being sure that he was fast asleep already. It brought another smile on Marco’s lips and he waltzed through the house, took a shower, got dressed in his pyjamas and cuddled up with Rubik in the bed.
(MM) next time we do an easier card game, so i can win
Marco smiled first thing in the morning when he read that message. He clapped Rubik on the butt and placed the phone on his chest as he took a few deep breaths to ground himself.
(MB) second time’s a charm?
And oh, second time was such a charm. Marco had selected the restaurant and as Marc was staying in the same hotel again, he picked him up with the car and they drove to the next town. Marco was wearing a nicer outfit this time, a simple black dress shirt and light blue pants, a dark brown pullover while Marc went all the way with a suit as soon as he saw Marco entering the room to pick him up.
If he wanted to take Marc out for dinner, then he did it properly. And Marc responded.
They got seated in a quiet and dim area in the gallery. Pillowed couches, dark tones, big windows to overlook the city. It had looked almost too good when Marco had found this restaurant and so he had come here a few days ago to place the reservation in person, looking around the building and overthinking if this was too much.
But this was Marquez, and Marco felt the urge to at least try his best, even if his countrymen never tried anything other than destroying him.
Marco hung his coat on the hooks next to the booth, he’d seen the place by daylight and found all the details charming. It was fun to take Marc’s coat too and place it properly, the man looking up to him from his already seated spot and nodding quietly, surprised.
“You look…” Marc didn’t finish the sentence as Marco flashed him a smile and took his seat opposite of Marc.
“I know what you wanna say now!” Marco huffed and looked down at the other people chatting away, unaware of their presence here. Did anyone outside of this so small community know what they did, who they were?
“Black suits me. But that’s not why I went to Aprilia.” - “Ah!”
Marc’s cheeks flushed faintly and Marco decided not to comment on it.
Their conversations still came stilted sometimes, even when writing. Often Marco didn’t know what he should say, if the older would catch onto the topic, be interested in it. They weren’t even chatting, really, simply giving each other some updates, laughing about teams’ posts and what other riders did during the winter break.
To ease themselves in - talking in person was always more difficult than typing, Marc could think about the vocabulary and Marco about forming actual sentences that made sense - they talked about the dogs, Pecco, Jorge, Martin and Lorenzo. Sometimes Marco asked about Alex and Fermin, and Marc never asked about the Ranch or Valentino.
Marco had never been good with small talk, it wasn’t his forte and he felt like making the other person waste their time. Marc instead, he needed coaxing to let go and say some of his thoughts out loud without considering their exact meaning and possible consequences.
Something, Marco had figured after rewatching older press conferences and interviews. Marc always knew what to say, was so level-headed no matter what stupid questions he got asked.
He should learn from him.
He should learn to read the room.
Yet, here he was, talking about a singer he’d seen last year with his sisters. Some rather unknown band, never toured outside of Italy, probably never even left the region. All the while, some soft piano music was humming in the background, lulling Marc into forgetting that as soon as the season would start, this was over.
Gone.
“Hey, everything alright?”
Marco had noticed the shift in mood, was afraid he said something stupid or talked too much. Marc only shook his head and leaned forward, assured Marco that everything was fine. Marco didn’t fully believe it, saw some invisible wall being put up and he didn’t like it, not at all. Sure, Marc wouldn’t be on friendly terms with him right away, given their past encounters, but he was out there, trying.
Trying to rectify his past attitude, which had been absolute shit, trying to make Marc believe the words he had said in press conferences, that it wasn’t all just hot air and nothing behind. It was just - hard, to put all these thoughts into words.
“Is it weird if I ask - “ Marco waited for Marc to put the glass of soda down until he had the Spaniard’s full attention.
“You know, I don’t want to look like some creep because I went to your instagram and - “ Marco stopped again upon seeing Marc giggle and leaning back to watch him.
“Go on!” - “You’re not making this easy." - "Not everything can be easy.”
Marc was full blown laughing at Marco’s predicament, and Marco only sighed in defeat and then mumbled that he saw him go to a concert, and if he liked that singer.
“Why are you asking?”
Marc wiped some tears away from his eyes and regained his composure. He took another sip of water and then continued with the dessert. It was spot on, just like about anything here, really.
“I want to know?" Marco simply shrugged, had no better excuse. He didn’t want an excuse to get to know Marc a bit more. Talking about their job only ever ended in repeating the same things they were allowed to speak about and then their conversation fading out when it came to all the things they were not allowed to speak about, and all the things they didn’t know the other wanted to hear.
"Yeah, I like his music.” - "Do you have a recommendation? It’s a long drive home so it would be nice to have something to listen to." - “Thinking about going home already, huh."
"Marc…” Marco sighed and gave the Spaniard a disappointed look. Marc closed his mouth from the short banter - he thought it was just a harmless sideblow, but seeing Marco with a deep frown between his eyebrows made Marc retract.
"It’s something to look forward to. Next time we’ll see each other will be at the testing end of the month.”
And then, the season would start and Marc had to perform and assess how well his shoulder had healed. And there were the rookies, well, Toprak was not much of a rookie, just, new to motogp. Marc wanted to be there for Diogo, and Alex, most of all.
"Do you have something to write?” Marc produced a permanent marker out of his coat pocket and thought out loud about which album to recommend to Marco. The newest one was great, of course, but it wasn’t Marc’s favourite.
“Then, tell me your favourite!" Marco pulled his pack of cards out of his own coat pockets. The napkins were neat white fabric ones, and none of them dared to steal them. Marc would be sad if that was the last time they’d be able to come here. The thought of coming here again, at some point during the season when he was needed at the factory, and Marco had time to meet up - it was a sweet thought, gentle.
Marco handed him a card from his stack and then put it back in, mixed the cards and flipped the written one out without batting an eye.
"You’re playing tricks, I see.” Marc glanced at him with mischief in his eyes. They had finished up eating and were ready to pay and leave. Marco got up and opened Marc’s coat for him to slip in.
"No. I don’t want to forget.” Marco smiled and ran his hands over Marc’s shoulder, just gentle enough the Spaniard might not feel the brush of his fingertips.
“I would never play tricks on our senior citizen!” Marco stepped closer and fluted into Marc’s ear from behind him, stepped away to get into his own coat and head down to settle the bill. This time it was his invitation and Marc gave him a disbelieving and mocking glance until Marco put his hand in the small of Marc’s back to get him out of all the people and bring him back to the hotel. It had felt nice, exciting, to keep his hand placed there, and Marc not flinching away or retreating from the touch until they were at the car.
The drive back to Borgo was quiet, the music humming lowly from the car radio making up for the silence between the two men. When Marco pulled up at the entrance, turning off the engine, Marc leaned over, hesitated for a moment.
Then:
“We should do this again.”
It seemed casual but Marco couldn’t deny the way his heartrate got up slightly and he only nodded dumbly, bit his lip.
“And you tell me how you like the music." Marc winked and got out of the car, waited for Marco to place his hand over his heart where the inside pocket of his coat was placed and the pack of cards was stored.
"I’ll tell you about it when we meet again.”
Just for a moment longer Marco waited, watched Marc walk up the stairs to the entrance and disappear behind thick glass door.
And just so, the season was starting again.