Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

„Do you think we shouldn’t have brought him here, pretty? He doesn’t seem to be having even an ounce of fun sitting there all alone for the past couple of hours.”, Jorge asked Raul, voice low and soft, tipping his chin towards Adrian.

The young Spaniard had agreed to join them for a weekend spent at Marc and Fabio’s place in Madrid when he’d been told that there would be a lot of people there and not just the five of them. And there were a lot of people. Their Majesties, Alex and his girlfriend, JL and his wife and kids, Joan and Alejandra, Tony, Dani, Roser and Julia, Martine. Basically, everyone that happened to be in Spain at that precise moment in time and had any sort of connection to Marc and Fabio was at their house for that weekend. And that included Adrian, who had gotten more and more withdrawn the more time passed and they all lounged around the pool, eating and laughing. It was Saturday evening and Adrian had simply refused to even come anywhere near them, just going through the garden out back and sitting down in the swing there, bouncing around sadly. Quiet. Raul sighed, running a hand over his face and wishing he’d know what was going on with his baby brother. Now and for the past ten or so months, but the last couple of weeks had been absolutely awful with Adrian going from shy and sweet to morose and almost nonverbal. This little getaway from their parents and their anxieties and their pressure and their remarks about Raul should’ve helped. It really should’ve. It wasn’t helping. Fuck.

„I’m going over there to talk to him, kitten. Or to try to. Heaven knows I’ve tried over and over again and he’s just shrugged me off every time. I’ll try again.”, Raul stood up, kissing his fiancé’s forehead and waiting just long enough to hug a smiling Fabio and shove him towards Jorge. „Keep my kitten company for a moment, would you? He worries. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

„I don’t worry, Raul. I observe. And I worry afterwards.”, Jorge patted the seat next to him and tangled his fingers with Fabio’s as soon as the Frenchman dropped down at his side. He studied his fiancé and saw a very minute glimpse of impatience when it came to Adrian and his ten months long sulk, as Raul had taken to calling it teasingly as of late. Jorge had a different feeling about that, but it wasn’t his place. At all. Fabio’s eyes were looking at the two of them keenly, almost too interested and intense, more a case study than some close friends and it was making Jorge shiver just a little. Not discomfort. But an awareness of himself that he’d not had before he’d stepped that close to Fabio. And the Brit that had destroyed an entire team with a bat of his eyelashes and the most perfect curls that side of the Channel. Not the point. He turned back to Raul and raised an eyebrow. „Be patient with him. He’s your baby brother and there’s something wrong with him. Don’t snarl. Don’t snap. Be patient. I love you. Go talk to him.”

Raul blushed hard at being chastised by his fiancé, but nodded and walked towards his baby brother, sitting down next to him and... Nothing. Talking hadn’t helped for a good while now, so maybe keeping his mouth shut would work. Adrian was opaque to him in a way he’d not been until last year. Not... Maybe not connected to him and Jorge, but definitely happening at the same time in a way. Was that it? Was Adrian jealous? Did he think. No. It couldn’t be. Could it. Fuck it, the waffling around wasn’t Raul’s way.

„Are you jealous of me and Jorge? Is that why you’ve been so low and so withdrawn for the past year? Do you think that I don’t love you anymore or that...”, Raul stopped, mouth open and staring at his little brother suddenly standing up, towering over him and shoving a finger in his chest, spitting angry. Angry? Adrian was angry.

„This. Is. All. Your. Fucking. Fault.”, Adrian spit out, word by word pushed out of his throat and finally not choking on them anymore. Finally. Motherfucking hell and his brother and everything that Raul brought with him and. „You have done it this time too, haven’t you. You have. You’ve made my life and my feelings and the past fucking hell year of my life about you. Again. Everything is about you. Everything. And now I’m fucking stuck everywhere because of you. At that team, at home, right between you and our parents and now I’m stuck here, watching you all enjoy each other and love your partners and I want that. I can’t have it. No. Because of fucking perfect Raul. But I want it. I.”

He stopped, eyes wide and panicked, slapped a hand over his mouth and turned on the spot, running back towards the house, through the marble hallways and all the way up to the second floor, down two doors and... His bed for the weekend. Thankfully alone in the room, Adrian locked the door behind him and let himself fall to the ground, back to the wood and hugging his knees tight to his chest. Head down. Hands on his ears. Nose to his knees. Eyes tightly closed. No. Tears still burst out of him and that stupid noise still came out of his throat and he couldn’t stop anything from happening to him like he couldn’t control anything about his life and like he couldn’t do anything about... Anything. Stuck. He was stuck. No. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be stuck anymore, trapped into being the good boy and the one that kept the peace and he needed to get out.

He unlocked the door and simply took a left turn in the dark, walking all the way to the end of the hallway where a balcony was situated, completely opposite from the pool, the noise, the people. All of those people that had heard him yell at Raul and that now were judging him. The air didn’t help. The noise was too much even like that, but maybe not as much as the trapping inside. Fuck. He couldn’t go back in and he couldn’t stay outside. He dragged a chair a placed it in the entryway to the balcony, sitting on it cross-legged and trying desperately to stop crying and preferably not have a mental breakdown in the middle of Madrid, in this fucking posh mansion that he couldn’t even navigate properly. Nope. Not working. Right. Back to his usual position, knees to his nose and that stupid sound to drown out the fucking overwhelming noise and his hands didn’t work properly for that and it was so much and.

Something moved next to him. Someone. He had to open his eyes to look, but he didn’t want to. Something was nudging his leg. He couldn’t stop crying. Or keening almost quietly. He couldn’t tell what was up and down and that fucking thing wouldn’t stop poking him in the leg. Adrian reached for it blindly, trying to throw it away, but having it pushed towards him gently again. Headphones. Large ones. What. Oh. For his ears. For the noise. He put them on after a couple of tries, hands shaking so badly he could barely hold them. Oh. Not just headphones. Noise cancelling ones. Quiet. Blissed quiet. He could feel himself keen, but not really hear the sound. Or anything else. He wasn’t rocking anymore or biting down on his lips. Just. His eyes closed. The sound stopped. All of it. His knees were shaking. A hand was laid next to his leg, he could spy from the corner of his eye, barely opened as it was. Not touching him. But the hand that had given him the headphones and attached to the person that had found him and not touched him .

Adrian put his hand on top of that one and squeezed gently. He tapped a quick thank you in Morse code and snorted when he received a very shady, but determined welcome right back. He inhaled, turning his head to the side and laying it on top of his knees. Marc. It was Marc sitting there, back to the wall and not looking at him like he was some sort of circus animal, to be gawked at and prodded. In fact, the other Spaniard wasn’t looking at Adrian at all, eyes closed and a small smile on his face. Adrian lifted one of the ears just a little, just enough to hear Marc and wiped at his face.

„Thank you. Again. I’m sorry I ruined your evening by losing my shit. I didn’t mean to. I’ll leave if one of you can take me to the train station. Or I’ll take a cab.”, Adrian said, voice small and a bit lost. He could hear himself and he hated it. He hated how much he hated all of what was happening to him and how he was just letting things happen to him. He hated it. And he hated how he’d reacted towards Raul. In hindsight.

„If you truly want to leave, Mama will drive you to the train station. She’s the only one who’s not had alcohol. But, maybe, I’m just offering an idea. You’d like to stay and no one will bother you. You keep the headphones and we’ll turn the music down a bit. There’s food in the kitchen and snacks hidden in the pantry. And you can stay up here for the rest of the weekend.”, Marc said softly, voice low and steady.

Not pushing, but somehow not bending to coerce Adrian into anything. Firm, but gentle. Warm and safe. The young man shrugged, unable to form actual words, but allowing himself to squeeze Marc’s hand one more time before letting go. Marc must have wanted to go back to the party and not be stuck there with a crying eighteen year old on the verge of another whatever the fuck it was that he was going through. He hid his face back into his knees and started loosing his breath again, shaking and whimpering.

„I will talk, Adrian, yes? I promise I won’t go unless you want me to go get your brother or Jorge. I will talk and you don’t have to answer, sweetheart. Just listen to my voice. Don’t bother about the words. Is that okay?”, Marc said, steady and calmer than the sea on an August day. „Here, have my hand if you want it. I won’t look at you. I’ll sit here, eyes closed and I’ll just keep you company if you’ll allow me to.”

„I. Party? All those people? Fabio?”, Adrian asked, voice breaking and smaller by the moment. He couldn’t keep Marc there with him, no matter how safe the older man felt. There was a party and people, lots of people, and his brother. And. And he’d yelled at Raul all sorts of things and he’d not meant them and maybe he did. Some of them. But. „Can you call Raul, please? Don’t. Don’t go until he gets here? Please. Talk to me, yes. Thank you.”

„Of course, Adrian.”, Marc pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, waiting for the call to go through. Five rings. No answer. Figured, Raul was probably busy being angry at his baby brother, Adrian was convinced. Another call. One ring. „Jewel, would you mind finding Raul and sending him up to the second floor balcony, please? I’m here with Adrian and he’d like some company.”

The young man heard Fabio’s lilting and softly accented voice answer, but he couldn’t make out what was being said. It didn’t seem like anyone was angry with him, though. Maybe Raul. Definitely Raul. Definitely their parents if they’d know about the screaming match and about... About him. There was so much he wanted to say and so little people he could think to say it to. Maybe Raul. Definitely Raul, eventually. But the man currently talking to him, telling him a story about his Jewel’s tendency to adopt any and all plants that he could find, was endearing and safe. Adrian felt himself relax moment by moment, lost in the tale of Fabio’s conquest of an elephant plant and how the Frenchman still talked to Zebra specifically every single day they were at home.

„You called your elephant plant Zebra. That’s ridiculous.”, Adrian murmured after a few minutes of careful listening, focused on Marc’s voice and completely missing the quiet footsteps approaching. „Also. I-i love how you call Fabio Jewel . It’s beautiful. I want that with someone.”

„You’ll have it, I don’t have any doubts about it. You’ll have your own jewel.”, Marc said, getting up and nodding towards a slowly approaching Raul.

Adrian closed his eyes again and hid his face, desperately wishing he’d not have to talk to his brother yet. He wanted Raul there. Just. Not talking. But all Raul did was talk. Always. Talk so much that there was no place for Adrian to talk anymore, so he’d just been keeping quiet for years now. Shy. Everyone called him shy and sweet. He wasn’t, not as far as he could tell about himself. But with a brother like Raul, all loud bravado and so much talent, he’d simply fallen back and given up on toeing the line. He could hear Marc speak again. Not to him. Oh. To Raul. Oh. That was. Oh.

„Try again. Be softer, kinder, gentler. Stop assuming shit and make sure that none of your sentences start with I . Don’t talk unless spoken to directly.”, Marc was saying in the same low and calm voice he’d used all along, a hand laid on Raul’s elbow and not hiding. The Spaniard was trying to help Adrian without any shame or falsehood. „And for fuck’s sake, you’re his brother. Behave like it. Listen to what he’s not saying just as much as what he’s saying. Do better, Raul.”

The absolutely shocking part of that was that Raul didn’t snap at Marc and he didn’t talk over him. Raul listened. Adrian was in such an awe over it that he almost missed his brother coming towards him with a sheepish smile on his face and simply sitting down on the ground, laying there with his back to the wall and his eyes closed. Raul put his hand up on the chair, not touching Adrian at all and the younger Fernández would’ve snickered if he didn’t feel like crying at the snap of a twig. But. Oh. Raul had watched Marc with him, he was convinced and it was both adorable and slightly awkward, but Adrian would take it. This was far better than anything they’d tried so far and it was both of their faults. Fuck, he didn’t know how to explain what he needed and his brother didn’t know how to listen without words. Fuck. Right. He slipped his hand into Raul’s and lowered the headphones, closing his eyes and resting his head back on his knees. It was dark and silent, but he could feel his brother there, giving him strength and comfort. Peace too. And, for the first time in a very long time, patience. There was no magical fix to their relationship, but this first step would have to do. Hand in hand, waiting for Adrian to speak first as he’d waited his whole life for Raul to do.

Would his brother hold to that if he’d decide to just get up and go to bed? Would the silence last? Was that even fair to either of them? Didn’t Raul deserve an explanation and an apology? Didn’t all the people out there deserve an apology for the way Adrian fucked up their partying? Perhaps. No. Surely. Just. Maybe not with words. He was inexperienced with those, so he’d rather not use them. He got down from his little perch and snuggled close to his brother, head on Raul’s chest like when they were smaller and hiding around in paddocks across the world. He didn’t want to hear the world outside, not yet. Or see it, not yet. So he kept the headphones on and his eyes closed, but soaked up the warmth of his brother’s body laying next to his. Home. And love, matter how angry they’d made each other at times.

He could tell Raul, he knew that in his bones. He did. He knew. He just couldn’t... Put the words out. He knew why, of course. Everything would make Raul feel guilty and that wasn’t Adrian’s intention. He didn’t want his brother to feel guilty or to regret anything of the past five years. He just. No. Not important. Not now. Not... Yet. Everyone had too much on their plates, from his parents’ comments to Raul’s new team and to his impeding wedding to Jorge, it was just a lot. He didn’t need to add to that. Not yet. He swallowed, lifting the headphones and counting down from twenty. Twice. So forty. Why did everything have to be a sort of rhythm for his brain to calm down. Another twenty. And his eyes opened.

„I want to make cookies for breakfast for everyone. Tomorrow. To apologise for the teenage angst.”, he said, pushing up and facing his brother for the first time in a couple of hours. „Do you think Marc and Fabio would let me?”

Adrian watched Raul’s face go from startled to determined to thoughtful and then back to determine in the blink of an eye. He waited. That was the moment in which his brother would start talking and miss all of his cues completely. He waited. He waited. Raul had opened his mouth once and promptly shut it. Funny, but not helping. Then he’d pulled his phone and pressed a contact, placing it on his legs and putting it on speaker. FMQ. Oh. Raul was calling Fabio and pointing towards his phone. Well. Adrian hadn’t expected he’d have to talk to Fabio. Somehow, out of the two of the royal couple, he was just this shade scared of the sweet Frenchman with the sharpest fangs he’d ever seen on a smile so innocent and the keenest eyes that could see into one’s soul. He knew Jorge was terrified of the English rose, but Lando had been just gracious and smiley to them all when he’d visited the KTM premises on the down low, so Adrian didn’t really understand where that one was coming from. Fabio though, he seemed like a different sort of beast.

„Yes, pretty boy. Need anything? Does Adrian need anything? Is he okay? Can we help? Raul? I’m coming up.”, Fabio’s voice came through the speaker, jewellery clinking as he moved. To come up. To see them.

Raul wasn’t talking, the absolute fucker, just lifting a sharp eyebrow and shrugging. Adrian knew that fucking stubborn look. Fine. Two could play that game and he had way more experience with silence. He sat back down on his ass on the carpeting and kept staring at his brother, listening for footsteps and the soft jingle of all those chains, bracelets and rings that the Frenchman was wearing. There it was, slowly getting closer. And closer. And closer. And there. He could see the Frenchman take their little situation in and burst out laughing, dropping to the carpet on his ass and mimicking Adrian’s position of sitting with his knees tucked to his chest. Endearing. And a bit of an asshole.

„Can I join the staredown? Seems fun. I could use the training, I’ve been doing it to Marc for three years now and I still lose every single time. You two seem to be professionally trained, damn.”, Fabio mused, using each of his legs to poke at one of them.

Adrian rolled his eyes, conceding first because he was not rude or brash and he was a bit scared of the shiniest of them all. He turned towards Fabio, not really looking him in the eyes and more moving his gaze towards the very bejeweled left ear of the reigning world champion and inhaled. He could talk. He really could. He was also a bit amused at how much Fabio was trying to put him at ease with just paying close attention to his cues, relaxing his whole body when Adrian had turned to him and not trying to force eye contact and... Oh. The Frenchman knew how to act with a panicked and scared person. Marc had known too. Unlike Marc, Fabio’s reactions seemed trained into him. Or learned, following a check list of sorts. Don’t overwhelm. Don’t talk loudly. Don’t put pressure on the other person. Don’t touch. Oh. It must have been Marc the one with the panic attacks then. And Fabio the one to care for him through them.

„I like that Marc calls you Jewel. It’s very lovely.”, Adrian blurted out, stuck on the light moving through the gemstones Fabio was wearing. For the second time that night, he slapped a hand on his mouth and wanted to run, but the Frenchman’s clear giggle and his sweet cooing stopped him and made him meet the other man’s eyes. Raul’s quiet snorting helped too, as did his brother’s hand on his. Right. He could do this. He could talk to Fabio. „I’m sorry I had a bit of a breakdown at your party and in your home. I’d like to say sorry to the others too and I’d like to bake some cookies for breakfast, if you’d let me use your kitchen. Please?”

„Yes, absolutely. Feel free to use anything and everything you want from the kitchen. I’ll even help if you’ll let me? Or Marc? Or Raul? Or Jorge? Stop me when I’m babbling, I’m a bit nervous.”, Fabio blushed, reaching out for Adrian, but stopping himself at the last moment by shoving his hand underneath his own thigh, making the young Spaniard laugh gently and offer a smile and a shy nod. „But. Adrian. Nobody is upset with you, okay? Nobody thinks anything less about you or something of that sort. Please don’t feel obligated, but if you really want to make cookies, some of us can help.”

„Yes, I’d like help, please. It will take a lot of cookies to feed all of us and Raul is not allowed in any kitchen. At all. Ever. He set a couple of towels on fire last time he tried, so no.”, Adrian smiled gently, sliding closer to a grumpy Raul and pinching his brother’s leg. Just for fun. „We’ll meet in the kitchen at eight? Whoever shows up can help me. Is that okay?”

Fabio nodded enthusiastically, snickering at Raul’s discreet eyeroll and saying his goodbyes for the evening, leaving the two brothers alone once more, though in a much more relaxed and peaceful atmosphere. Adrian snorted, poking at Raul again and pulling both of them up towards the balcony itself. He was still a bit pale and somewhat shaky, but it could’ve gone much worse. Much. Last time... Last time, he’d lost time and he’d came through in a whole different room, underneath a table and surrounded by tyres. Though that had been caused by hiding from himself mostly. And his personal nightmare. Fucking fuck. A hand on his. Raul. Still silent. That was beyond impressive and it was what got him talking, in the end. Inhale. Exhale. Talk.

„I’m sorry, Raul. I’m sorry for saying things I don’t mean and for saying things I do mean like that, with all of those people around. Nobody but you and me needed to hear that. Some of that. I-i don’t blame you for being yourself. I don’t.”, Adrian started, slowly working up the nerve to explain things to his brother. As much as he thought he could put into words. Would it... Be better if he just blurted it out? Just say it to one living person and be done with it. Just that. He needed to tell someone and his brother was there and safe. A bit pouty, but he’d deal. „When you came out to our parents and me at fifteen, I was in awe of you. And proud. And so happy, because that meant I’d not be alone. But then Mama cried for weeks and Papa just wouldn’t even consider it a thing and kept pushing you to ask Marian out and everything and I just. I fell back into the background, watching it all unfold. And the years passed and you and Marian were fine. So I just kept quiet. Over and over and over again, I kept quiet. But the quiet is starting to mess with my head. Badly. So badly. But I can’t do that to our parents, they’re already so messed up about you and Jorge. I can’t add to that. And I need to... To stop blaming you for chasing your happiness. It’s not your fault. At all. It’s me. I’m feeling alone and lonely and I want what you’re all having, a partner and a relationship and I can’t.”

„You thought you’d not be alone? Adrian, what are you saying? Please. Tell me. What do our parents not really accepting me and Jorge have to do with you? They love you. I love you. You’re not alone, A.”, Raul said fervently, voice low and soft, but urgent.

Adrian felt his desperation. His brother needed him to understand. He did. That wasn’t the problem. He just didn’t really see a way out of it without breaking their family for good. And Raul would break it for him, he knew. One whisper of the truth from him and Raul would go to war with their parents for him. He couldn’t let that happen. So he swallowed his words once more and he shrugged, leaning in and cuddling into Raul’s shoulder, feeling his brother’s arms around him. Safe. Home. It would have to be enough, even if it was bittersweet at times.

„I know I’m not alone. Enough for now, please. I love you and I’m sorry I yelled at you like that. Just. Enough for now. You can go back to the party and to Jorge, if you want to. Or you can call Jorge up here and we can all be grouchy together?”, Adrian snarked, surprised by his brother’s nod and quick text to Jorge, who joined them in a couple of minutes with some sandwiches and some bottles of water. Dinner delivered too. And a snuggle. Jorge hugged him and kissed Raul sweetly, putting the tray between them and talking about everything and nothing all at once. Distraction. It took Raul’s attention off him and he was grateful for his very perceptive brother in law. A nod in thanks. Enough for now. He’d not break their family any more. He couldn’t.

***

Oh, his decision to keep quiet had seemed so strong back in the middle of Madrid, all tucked away from the very temptation that kept him up at night and got him so distracted that he could barely focus on what his race engineer was saying. Fuck. And seeing him in so much pain, it was very close to breaking Adrian’s resolve to stay away from Deniz at all costs. Deniz. Deniz. Deniz. He’d not even looked at the older boy before the beginning of the year, when they’d been made teammates and it had been fucking easy before Deniz. Adrian had his sometimes crushes and his sometimes wet dreams and his dancing with some young ladies for the fun of it, but he’d never allowed himself to feel anything more than that. He’d never allowed himself to do anything more than that. Until Deniz and his crooked smiles and his soft voice. And his eyes. Those fucking eyes. Adrian was gone, a blushing mess the moment that Deniz smiled at him the first time, knocking their shoulders together in companionship and a bit of mockery for Jaume and Aki’s ranting about each other and Pedro’s fucking cockiness.

But that was almost nine months ago and a whole lot of avoiding had been happening from his side because Deniz was enough to tempt Adrian into just about everything. Which. Not a thing. He needed to not be like he was. Stupid, he knew. But his parents, they wouldn’t be able to take him too being obviously different . Their voices made him whimper at times with the way they sounded, like they were either disdainful or mourning his living, breathing, talented brother who was so in love and so loved. With a man and by a man. And wasn’t that the problem, even if it didn’t really look like it all the time. No.

But when Raul wasn’t there and when Jorge’s keen eyes weren’t looking at them and when the Martin family wasn’t taking them to expensive and all paid trips to bond over their sons getting married in the spring of the following year, his Mama would still pray for Raul to find common sense and his Papa would refuse to download pictures of the two of them, no matter how happy they seemed. And they were. Happy and right. But Adrian had to be good and had to try and keep them all somehow together.

A door slammed, pulling him out of his musing and voices started to rise from Deniz’s side of the box, accompanied by a lot of cursing and a couple of mechanics muttering some absolute horseshit about the older boy. So far, the KTM garage had been thoroughly cleaned of homophobes or, at least, loud ones. But the comments about Deniz’s religion and ethnicity were still fucking there and it still fucking pissed the fuck off Adrian. At one particular nasty word, the Spaniard marched across the box and went straight through the other two men, knocking his shoulder into one of them and pointedly tapping the thin wall that separated the rider’s room from the outside. A soft and obviously pained come in made Adrian startle, but the eyes burning at his back with contempt and a hatred that he couldn’t, for the life of him, begin to comprehend made him determined. He pushed the door open just enough to slip through and then closed it behind him firmly, locking eyes with a confused Deniz. Confused, but not upset. In pain, though. And not even half dressed for the race.

Oh. Oh no. Oh no. He’d misjudged this terribly. Deniz was sitting there in his boxers, shoulder wrapped in kinesio strips and half. Fucking. Naked. Not. Not half. More like ninety percent naked, cause those boxers were hiding absolutely nothing and Adrian was going to die. He blushed hard, turning around to face the door and waved awkwardly at the Turk, who was still silent. Right. He’d burst in and then gaped like a fish and...

„Hi, sorry to barge in like that, I didn’t think you were still naked. I mean. Not naked. I mean. Half naked. Or like. Shit.”, Adrian dropped his forehead to the panelling, desperately hoping the earth would swallow him whole and just save him the embarrassment. And the hard on. Cause fucking hell, Deniz. Just that.

„Do you... Need something, A?”, Deniz’s voice came from behind him, calm and soothing. The lilting of that accent, the way he spoke English and... No. Not English.

Adrian had learned some Turkish over the last year and he’d done it so in the most inconspicuous of ways, by using the scary owl app. But he was fairly certain he could use some phrases decently and it would give them some sort of privacy because of fucking course that no one had bothered with even trying to learn to say good morning and good luck to Deniz in his own native tongue. Right. Inhale. Gather the words and put them in the correct order. Hope the accent is not absolutely atrocious. Exhale. Turn around and face the still confused Deniz.

„Yardıma ihtiyacın var mı?”, Adrian asked softly, sounding every single word once in his head and then putting it out there. He couldn’t miss Deniz’s gasp, nor his huge smile at those probably very accented and very mispronounced words. Oh. He’d. He’d made Deniz smile. And happy. And wincing as he tried to get up to come towards Adrian, which seemed like a big no. „Okay, I can’t really focus on more Turkish, but don’t hurt yourself even more, please. Just. Sit there. I’ll help you if you let me. Lütfen, Deniz?”

„Evet.”, Deniz said, voice still a bit shaky from the pain, Adrian assumed. Evet. Yes. Fucking hell, he’d not considered the fact that if he spoke Turkish to Deniz, the older boy would answer in his native tongue and that was doing things to Adrian. Things. Lots of things. But he had to help Deniz, not think about his cock. Or Deniz’s body, naked and so gorgeous and in so much pain. Fucking hell.

„Right. Can you move that arm at all? Good. Um. Pants first. Then undershirt. And then we’ll somehow manage the leathers. Come on. We can do this. We’re teammates, we can work together to get you dressed.”, the Spaniard knew he was babbling, but fuck if he cared. He needed to keep himself distracted enough to not just drop to his knees right there and nuzzle at that chest and touch those thighs and. Fuck. Right. Pants. One leg. The other. Deniz lifted up and tried to pull his own pants up, but that wasn’t happening, not one armed and from that position. Which put that bulge right in front of Adrian’s eyes and he swallowed hard, yelping a little and standing up suddenly, holding Deniz’s hips carefully. Still. „Just. Please. Let me.”

Deniz nodded and it seemed like the Turk was the silent one for once, which was terribly unusual. Maybe he was uncomfortable with Adrian touching him. He’d agreed, though. No, there was a phrase he’d heard over and over for the past few months during the weekends that he’d spent with his brother and Jorge and, sometimes, a lot of other people at a big ass mansion in Madrid. Right. Constant consent and communicating intent.

„I’ll pick up your socks and help you with those next. Is that okay?”, Adrian asked softly, stepping back just a little until Deniz nodded. Socks. Shirt. „The shirt next. Is that okay? It will hurt, I need you to tell me if it gets too much, okay?”

Another nod. Deniz was looking at him carefully, but not shying away from his touch. One arm. And the whimpering began. The older boy was biting his lip and crushing a pillow between his right fist and his thigh, but it must have hurt like a fucker for him to be both pale and shaking after Adrian had put his shirt on quite delicately, if he did say so himself. Delicately and not dying of raging hormones, absolutely not. He didn’t know what hormones were. No. He had no hormones. Fuck. Who was he kidding. He wanted to lick Deniz all over and kiss him and hold him and tell him not to do the stupid race for which he had stupid pole. It didn’t matter. Just let go and come home. A nudge.

„Right. Sorry. The leathers. Um. Well. That’s going to hurt even worse. Want me to go get someone else to help? Wait, why isn’t anyone here to help you? Deniz?”, he found the suit and held it up, waiting to be answered. That time, he didn’t hurry. Nope. More than evet and some whimpering. He crossed his arms, practically hugging the suit to him and waiting. Staring. He could win both of those. He did. Deniz rolled his eyes, making grabby hands towards his suit, but not before answering. Good boy.

„I was angry with them for both making a bit of fun of me and not helping, so I sent them out. I was going to call someone for help, but you walked in and here we are.”, Deniz blushed, pulling on his suit’s sleeve and, by proxy, on Adrian’s arm. „Please help me suit up, A? I’ll not make a sound, I swear.”

„Why on earth wouldn’t you make a sound? You’re in pain, that’s not a thing that you should be in, so sounds are natural. And welcome. I like sounds, they help me figure out if I’m doing the right things and if you’re comfortable and feeling good.”, he mumbled, snickering softly at how Deniz’s legs seemed to be made of jelly with how unstable they were. A hand on his shoulder. And there, lower part settled. „Boots next. Is that okay? Deniz?”

Adrian lifted his eyes and couldn’t really understand what he was seeing in Deniz’s eyes. Dark. Darker than they usually were, breath short and fast, biting his lips and clenching his hand in the leathers. Pain. Adrian at his feet probably didn’t help. Right.

„No. I’m g-good. I’ll take it from here, A. Thank you.”, Deniz said, voice short and almost breaking there at the end. Oh. Adrian had overstayed his welcome. He. It hurt. They’d been fine, he thought. Fine until Adrian had started talking and hadn’t stopped. Fuck. Fuck. He stood up, coming face to face with the older boy, just this bit taller and broader than him. Gorgeous. And prohibited.

„I’ll... Leave. Yeah. I’ll go. Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to help, I don’t like seeing you in pain. You should never be in pain.”, the Spaniard whispered, not realising that he’d said that out loud. Babbling was his thing, after all, right next to silence. He turned around, but found himself stopped by a hand circling his wrist. Deniz, of course. He stopped.

„I don’t want you to see me in pain. I don’t want you to feel upset over causing me more pain when those leathers will go on. Please, A. I’ve got this. You don’t need to be here for that.”, the older boy whispered right back, letting go of Adrian’s hand and completely scrambling his brains.

„Why-why would you care about that?”, Adrian asked, voice unsteady and with just a hint of shock bleeding through. He couldn’t understand. Why would Deniz bother himself with how Adrian was feeling about seeing him in pain? It didn’t... Make sense. A smile on Deniz’s face only served to confuse Adrian further and his hand in Adrian’s, fingers tangling together wasn’t making things any better. It. Deniz must have known about Adrian’s feelings and now he was mocking him? Caring for him? Confusing the fuck out of him, that was for sure.

„You’re frowning, which means you’re either panicking or overthinking. Easy, A. Easy.”, Deniz smiled, sitting down heavily and pulling Adrian next to him on the flimsiest couch in existence.

That better not break underneath them, cause there would be no explaining that one to anyone, not as far as Adrian could think. A tap on his knee and he jerked out of his thoughts once more, still... Holding Deniz’s hand. He tried to pull it out, but the other boy didn’t really let go. Well. No. Deniz did. He just didn’t move his hand from its spot and Adrian was only human, so he rested his palm there and didn’t regret it. Maybe. Fuck. He wanted to hold a boy’s hand, even if it didn’t really mean what he wanted. And Deniz calling him A and knowing when he was panicking, it was heady and making him dizzy. Another tap. Right. Focus. Mistake. Those fucking eyes.

„A. Misano to Adrian. You there? Yes, you are. Good.”, Deniz snickered, pointing towards his shoulder and then towards Adrian. „This is me being stupid and I’m in pain about it and it will fuck up my race. I don’t want you to feel guilty about that. I know you, A. You’ll sit there, in your chair, at the end of the race and think about if you didn’t pull my arm that way or this way or whatever. So. Guilt free. You went above and beyond and you helped me get ready. Thank you.”

Adrian swallowed, breath catching in his throat at Deniz’s words. They were, if he was perfectly honest, the most amount of words the older boy had spoken to him in the past nine months. Mostly his fault, Adrian was aware. But how would Deniz know things about him and why would they matter and...

„You’re still holding my hand.”, he blurted out, blushing hard and preparing for Deniz to let go. He couldn’t think of how that hand felt underneath his. Not then. How right it was and how easy it was to tangle his fingers with Deniz’s. He. No. Not then. He couldn’t lift his hand or his eyes. He couldn’t cut contact with Deniz or meet his eyes. But Deniz wasn’t pulling away either.

„I am. I-i want to. So I’m going to hold your hand, if that’s okay with you. A? Is that okay with you?”, the Turk asked slowly, smile spreading across his face easily.

He wasn’t mocking Adrian. Was he? Deniz couldn’t have known how utterly smitten Adrian was with him. No way. Adrian had spent the past half a decade pretending to be both straight and uninterested in romance, so he was very good at it. But now Deniz was asking him something that was impossible for him to understand or follow. Why would Deniz want to hold his hand?

„I don’t understand anything right now, Deniz. But yes, you can hold my hand. Can I help you with your boots at least? If you’re being stubborn about the suit, let me finish something and get your boots on? Lütfen?”, Adrian shrugged, slipping to his knees easily when Deniz sighed and nodded. He reached for the boots and fiddled with their straps for a few moments, but just enough for the Turk to lose his patience, it seemed. Deniz groaned and leaned back into the couch, throwing a hand over his eyes and making Adrian pout. Fine. No patience. „I’ll start with the left foot. Come on, help me out. That’s it, good boy.”

Deniz made a curious sound once more and jumped up when Adrian zipped him up and touched his other ankle, but it wasn’t like the Spaniard knew where the boy was ticklish or not, so he just huffed and slipped the other boot on too. Zipper. A pat on Deniz’s thigh. And he was up, staring down at the most gorgeous boy he’d ever seen, head thrown back and eyes covered by a dramatic arm, lips forming some words that Adrian couldn’t quite make out. Fucking hell, Deniz was going to be the death of him and the breaking of his five years long abstinence streak. Well, not Deniz himself, cause he was straight, but that image of him below Adrian. Definitely enough to tempt a saint. And he wasn’t one. More of a sinner, in the end. Lying was a sin. One of the big ones, if he remembered correctly. And he’d been lying about himself to everyone for years. Not the moment for that, as a knock came on the door and someone opened it slowly, poking their head in. Help had arrived, so he retreated hastily with a short good race to his team-mate. Enough. No more temptation. He couldn’t take it. Not really.

***

It was five pm on the first day of the Misano test and Adrian was jittery. Basically, it was a fucking random Tuesday between races and he had begged Raul to not send him home after the race because he really didn’t want to go back there for two fucking weeks and listen to their parents speak and... And he had to decide something. Which he couldn’t do with a bunch of talks about morals and good, traditional Spanish families hanging over his head at all times. He had lost his patience exactly once with the whole thing and had asked his mother why were they still going on trips with the Martins if that’s what they thought about Raul and Jorge and their future family. He’d not had a fun week, stuck in his room for days at a time, with nothing to do but eat his meals at the table with them and not even run. Gained two kilograms on top of everything and fucked up his training for the following race. Alas, bygones were bygones. Now he needed something else. Someone else, to be precise. And there he was, sitting at the top of some stands at the end of the straight, watching and learning.

„I’m pretty sure you’ve forgotten more about riding a bike than most of us have ever even known.”, Adrian said, voice loud enough to be heard over the noise. He sat down next to Marc, making sure to not actually touch the champion. He’d learned some things about the Royal couple over the summer. For one, nobody handed Fabio food and drinks directly. For another, Marc wasn’t to be touched by anyone but his husband if he didn’t give consent every time. Thus, Adrian put his fist up and waited, rolling his eyes at Marc’s raised eyebrow. „Fine. Be like that. Can I get a hug, Your Majesty?”

„You know, that’s not as funny as Alex might think, but at least it keeps you youngsters respectful.”, Marc snickered, pulling him into a tight and warm hug, ruffling his hair gently and poking his tongue out at Adrian. „And I’m not that old, I can still learn new tricks. Like. Look. That corner over there. Look how the Ducs are taking it, with all of their top speed just bouncing them off the kerb and unable to break fully or they’ll lose momentum. Also, look at my Jewel. He’s trying to compensate for the bike’s lack of top speed by turning it smoother and breaking later. He doesn’t move atop of the bike, he moves with it. Jorge is trying to tame the Pramac and it’s definitely trying to buck him off at times. And Raul, well. He needs an actual bike and not that shit, but even so, he’s trying to make it work. Somehow. His lack of experience is showing, though. He breaks too early and then loses the apex and the turn costs him a lot of time. More than it should. But you’re not here to hear me muse about the other riders, are you, Adrian?”

„I could be. You’re absolutely amazing and a legend. Why wouldn’t I be here to soak up any sort of knowledge you’d like to share?”, Adrian pouted, snickering loudly at Marc’s raised eyebrow and amused smirk. „But. You’re right. Not this time. Also, you’re kinda losing your mystery when I’ve seen you get tossed in your pool by my brother and getting out drenched and hissing like a kitten.”

„You’re absolutely right, I’d like to have no mystery at all, but my husband insists on building a legacy. Which, according to him, involves some secrecy over certain things. Or revealing them at the correct time, whenever we feel ready and safe to do so.”, the older man smiled gently, knocking his shoulder with Adrian’s and waiting. „To whoever we feel ready and safe to talk to.”

Oh. Waiting for Adrian. Did. Did Marc know? Oh no. If Marc knew, then did his brother know? Did Raul know and just left him there with their parents? No. That. No. Absolutely not. If Adrian knew something for certain, it was that his brother would burn the world down for him. Fuck, he’d already done it, tying himself to KTM for another year just to get Adrian a seat and a decent bike. Right. So Marc suspected or knew for sure, but hadn’t told Raul. That made things both easier and bit more disappointing. He’d wanted to share something, not have his words confirm an idea. But easier, so much easier, because now he could just hint and not say. No. No. He wanted to say it out loud to someone and he’d chosen Marc for it.

„You. You’re safe. And I’m ready. I’d like to tell you something that I’ve told no one, not even Raul. Definitely not my parents. Just. You’d understand better than all of them and absolutely better than my parents. Can I tell you?”, he asked, lifting his knees to his chest and circling them with his arms. His turn to wait, but he didn’t have much waiting to do.

Oh, that smile. He could see why so many of the people around him were mesmerised by the Spaniard. He could see, but couldn’t really feel it. Strange, perhaps, but he’d take it. Marc was gorgeous, but so not his type. He snorted. Like he had a type. Like that was a thing. He could see that Marc was beautiful, but he wasn’t attracted to the Spaniard. Which was fortunate. The unfortunate part was that he was attracted to Fabio, which also increased the scary factor that the reigning world champion had in spades. Mark me down as scared and horny. Definitely Adrian when around Fabio. But. Also not the thing he’d come to say.

„Oh, those are very nice manners you have there, cub. Yes, feel free to tell me anything and everything you need to. If it’s not life threatening, I swear on my marriage I won’t tell your brother. If it is, that promise doesn’t hold, as I will protect you before anything else.”, Marc said firmly, turning around and facing Adrian fully. „Even if that seems presumptuous and you’re an adult that can make his own choices, I will figure out a way to help you help yourself.”

„Because you and Fabio keep calling me cub? Is that why?”, Adrian smiled, poking his tongue out at the Spaniard’s sheepish, but definite nod. Caught. Didn’t do shit for his crush on Fabio, but it did relax him quite a lot. And it made him acknowledge rationally that there was quite a difference between what he was feeling for Deniz, all consuming and so powerful he could drown in it if he allowed it and the fact that he got horny when he saw El Diablo walk around in shorts, diamonds and glitter. He shook his head once and focused on Marc’s eyes. He could do this. He needed to. „Right. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I-i. Fuck. I’m gay.”

And there was silence. Soft, kind, gentle silence, somehow not influenced by the roar of the bikes. Just there. Silence and Marc’s absolutely blinding smile. And his open arms, in which Adrian sank gratefully, holding onto Marc’s shirt and burying his head in the older man’s chest. Just. There. It was easy to just let those words sink into his bones after hearing himself say them out loud for the first time. It was right. It felt right. It felt freeing. He’d said it to himself and to another human and it was okay. He was being hugged and his shoulders were being patted and Marc was smiling like a lunatic at him.

He tried to imagine saying that to his parents and them having the same reaction. It didn’t work. He shoved his head back into Marc’s arms and tried not to cry, biting down on his lip and on his fist. Hard. The older man gently pried his hand from his mouth and held it, letting Adrian simply inhale, exhale and let some tears fall. Some. Not enough, he knew. But even those few, they mattered. They let him breathe easier for a few moments and those moments mattered. He wiped at his face and nodded, lifting himself back up slowly. He didn’t want to let go of Marc’s shirt, but he really had to. Fuck. A hat between them. Oh. Marc’s hat, placed between them, with the champion’s fingers tangled in it and. Oh. Adrian dropped his hand to the brim of the hat and teared up again. He could touch and stay grounded without it feeling weird to either of them. Marc cleared his throat, making Adrian nod softly. Yes. Talking was welcomed.

„Thank you for telling me that you’re gay, A. Thank you, cub. You’re safe and loved and cared for with us and it’s okay. It is. I promise you it is. We’ll make sure it is easier for you than it was for us and we’ll protect you. I’ll protect you.”, Marc whispered fiercely, eyes alight and smile hard and full of sharp teeth.

Oh. That was. That was what kept Fabio’s Wolf happy and content. And it caused something to move at the back of his head, a living thing stirring after the longest of winters and finally opening one eye and shaking its tail, all of it in answer to whatever beast was wearing Marc’s face at that moment. Not unsafe. Not hunted. Not scared. More like kin. He smiled back and it felt different. Acknowledgment. Familiarity. A startled look on Marc’s face, then a burst of laughter and another tight hug. Adrian was confused, but not unsettled. He understood. Not the moment now. But soon. Now he had something else to ask.

„Thank you, Marc. But I have a more urgent matter to discuss. I have boy trouble and I need advice.”, he whispered dramatically, poking at the other man’s thigh with his foot. „Help me out here.”

„You have boy trouble and you’re asking me? I don’t know anything about dating people, to be honest. My Jewel is the one that chased me around, skittish as I was. But I will listen and advise to the best of my abilities.”, Marc smiled softly, turning back to watch the track and give Adrian a bit of privacy.

Discreet, but obvious. Adrian loved that about the older man. One could tell that Marc saw and heard everything, but one didn’t need to worry about him being too close or meddling uninvited. He was... Inviting Marc to meddle because he wanted to talk. He couldn’t talk to Marc without telling him who he was talking about, though. Well. Maybe he could, but it would’ve been awkward and how would that be better than him stumbling over his words with Raul. No. But that would mean that he had to say Deniz’s name in correlation to his invitation and how he thought it was a date and that meant that Deniz wasn’t straight. So.

„I can promise you that nothing you’ll tell me will I share with anyone but my husband. And he’s very good at keeping secrets. But you need to know I’ll tell him if he asks. Other than that, I’m listening, cub.”, the Spaniard nudged Adrian, who blushed and stuttered.

„I-i want to, but I don’t think I should say his name out loud, cause I think he asked me on a date and I really want to say yes and to go and I really want to kiss him cause he held my hand and it was...”, Adrian blurted out, running out of air before he could even stop himself for a moment. Fuck. Okay. He’d not put a name to his entire problem, but he did, more or less, explain it to Marc, who didn’t seem lost. Thank fuck. The older man seemed amused, but not condescending, which was also good.

„You have his phone number, right? Text him and ask him if it’s okay that you talk to me about your maybe date. Tell him it’s me. I assume he’s a rider, so he’d know I’m safe about this topic. Then continue. How about that?”, the Spaniard whispered, pulling out his own phone to zoom in to a specific part of the corner they were overlooking.

Adrian snickered at the multitasking, not feeling neglected for a moment, but also not feeling stifled. Fuck, Marc was good at skittish people. Oh. Yeah, that made sense. He pulled out his phone and hovered over Deniz’s number for a moment, opening their chat window and seeing that the last text was more than three months old and it was just a quick hotel information check. Fucking hell. He really didn’t talk to Deniz, while being very busy daydreaming about him and his cheekbones. And his laugh. And his smiles. And his kindness. And his cheekiness. And his boldness. And. Yeah. He was smitten.

A: Hey. I’m thinking about your invite and I want to talk to someone about it. Is that okay with you? I’m talking to Marc, btw.

He stared at the two little checkmarks turning blue in a matter of seconds and couldn’t be more giddy at the amount of attention and care the other boy was showing him, even from afar. They’d talked on the phone two times since Sunday afternoon, which was a whole lot for him and his reclusive tendencies. Also his avoid Deniz at all costs mission. Fuck. It went out the fucking window when the Turk smiled at him on Sunday afternoon and held his hand again, just for a moment, just between them. He’d melted. And he’d not recovered yet.

D: Oh, sure, casually name drop the eight times world champion in the convo.
Nah, I’m kidding.
Maybe.
But yes, of course, whatever makes you feel comfortable. I trust your judgement of him.
ALSO. Also. A. I’m asking you on a date. Just so there’s no confusion.
Enjoy your talk. Toodaloo.

„He just ended his text with toodaloo. I’m not sure I want to go anymore. I couldn’t possibly want to kiss a guy that writes down and actually sends that word as a text message to someone he has asked out.”, Adrian muttered, eyes wide and blushing hard the moment he realised what he’d said and what Deniz had texted him. Oh. „Oh, fuck me. He actually said this is a date. Before the toodaloo. Marc. Marc. Marc. He. Deniz said it’s a date. Marc.”

„Adrian. Inhale. Exhale. Come on, you’re turning an unhealthy shade of red. Come on. Breathe.”, Marc tapped his fingers on the metal bench and it fucking helped.

Adrian could’ve hugged him, because it fucking helped. Fuck, Marc did know how to act around his anxiety spiking and it was relieving and endearing. Worrying too, but that was for later. Right. Breathe. In. Out. He could do this.

„I’m fine. I’m fine. Right. I’m not fine. Okay. I’ll breathe a little longer. You... Talk to me? Please?”, Adrian hugged his legs once more and peeked at the bikes from between his fingers. The sound of them was familiar even without the roar of the crowd and the buzz of the paddock. He could simply close his eyes and listen to the bikes and to Marc.

„Deni... Z? S? Which one? Cause I sure as fuck can be more gracious about one than about the other, but. Alas. I’ll try even if it’s not the one I like.”, the older man snickered, carefully watching Adrian and drawing the correct conclusion, it seemed. So much for Adrian’s poker face. „Deniz. Your teammate. Oh. Oh, yes. I can be very gracious about Deniz. He’s gorgeous and seems like a good person. Good taste. Wanna tell me what happened?”

„He is a good person. Yes. Deniz. My teammate. I don’t know how we got here, it was very sudden. I think. I don’t know anymore. I kept hearing shit about him from the mechanics and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I went to him and helped him get dressed for the race, cause he was one armed. Kinda like you.”, Adrian said, nervously playing with the edges of his shorts. He swallowed hard and met Marc’s eyes. Oh, the other man looked ready to hiss and Adrian realised what he’d just said. Oh. „Right, they weren’t being homophobic or stuff. More like Muslim hating and shit. I was just done with all of it. I went and helped him, we... We held hands then. He held my hand and I couldn’t let go. I didn’t want to. And then the race was done and I poked my head inside his backroom to see if he needed help undressing. He did. I helped. Almost died in the process, don’t know how I survived, I swear. Deniz held my hand again. Then asked me to something like a burger and some Call of Duty, which I declined. But I did have the brain capacity to tell him I’d do pizza and Elden Ring, if he’d like. He said yes. Then I ran. And now I’m here.”

„Okay, so. Let me see if I understand this correctly. You helped him dress and undress, you talked to him and held hands and he asked you on a date. What’s the issue? As for the mechanics, fucking hell. I’ll talk to some people, don’t worry. I should’ve fucking known. I. Never mind. Not the moment. What’s your needing advice problem?”, Marc pulled out his phone and texted someone a short we need to talk that Adrian could feel in his bones. Chilling. But not directed at him, so that was fine. When the Spaniard turned towards him once more, it was warmth and care that Adrian could feel and it was good for his brain. And his soul.

„It’s not about Deniz, actually. It’s about me. Fuck. I. Don’t tell Raul, please.”, Adrian started, stopping when Marc raised a gentle hand and placed it on his own. The other man wanted to say something, but was still thinking about how to phrase it. Well, that made two of them for sure, cause Adrian had no clue how exactly he could put out into the world and into words the past five years from his perspective and explain his parents without making them seem like the worst people in the world. Should he have jotted some notes down before? Maybe. Would it have been easier if he’d written it down? Hell if he knew. A tap on his hand. Right. He lifted his eyes and met Marc’s, alight and proud. Of him, he realised and gasped.

„I’m going to start the advice giving here, because you asked for it. It is and it is not related to your boy problem, even if it might not seem so right now.”, Marc said, leaning in and winking cheekily at Adrian, making him giggle. „Phrase the things you say very carefully and very pointedly. Think your words through and then speak them because any and all loopholes could and might be used against you by your partner. Could and might aren’t facts. I’m not saying everyone will look for things to manipulate for their own gain, but some will. I have full faith in you that you chose a good one and that you two will have a lot of fun, safe, sane and consented sex. Or not have it, as your wish is. Or his. Whatever. You understand my meaning, cub.”

„I... Don’t? Maybe give me an example? I’m better with those.”, he asked softly, eyes wide and mind racing to catch up. Marc felt like he was five steps ahead, as per usual, and he didn’t want to be left behind. Absolutely not.

„You told me to not tell Raul. Okay, I’ve already agreed to that with the caveats mentioned before. I’ve agreed to more than that of my own free will. I told you I won’t tell anyone but Fabio, if he asks and Raul, if it’s life threatening. But you didn’t ask that of me. You asked me to not tell Raul. I could’ve told Jorge. Or Angel. Or Su. Or Alex. Or my mother.”, the Spaniard explained patiently, trying to get Adrian to parse through his words. Oh. Oh. Oh.

„State all of it and not leave anything out, you mean. As if it’s a game with rules. Just put all of it out in the beginning and let people take it in. Be a little bendable, I assume, no? Yes. Some points are up for discussion and some aren’t. That’s what you mean, right?”, Adrian got more excited by the moment, puzzling it all out and just enjoying the playing around with words. And with Marc. He felt it again, that little whisper at the back of his head, a flick of tail and a bored huff. He felt it when figuring this out with the older man. Playful.

„Yes. Exactly. That’s it. It’s rules that have to be put out there and people can either agree or not. Or discuss some of them. But intent must be clear. And consent too. It’s...”, Marc burst out laughing when he poked his tongue out and completed the sentence. He was good at those.

„Constant consent and declaring intent. Yes. I listen. I pay attention.”, Adrian giggled and turned sideways to sit cross-legged and stare down Marc. A tilted head from the other Spaniard and a slow smirk was all he got and it irked. It did, but it didn’t feel like mockery. More like Marc knew something that Adrian hadn’t quite caught onto. But he didn’t want to give chase, not on the champion’s terms. His own. Later. He did have a bit of a curiosity before pouring out his heart to Marc. „You call me cub. So does Fabio. You two don’t seem to be the same kind of predator. So what kind of cub am I? Whose’s? His or yours?”

„Oh, you are clever and you do listen. Good instincts too. And more of my cub than my Jewel’s.”, Marc shrugged easily, mimicking Adrian’s position and just waiting. Patience seemed to be Marc’s main virtue as far as Adrian could tell and it was a good one. Right. No more avoiding, as much as he’d enjoyed the meandering and the little bits of self discovery. Inhale. Exhale.

„My parents, they’re not okay with Raul being bisexual and absolutely not okay with him marrying Jorge. I think my mother tried to either understand or just accept for the longest time, mostly because he dated Marian for like four years. My dad, he just never even minded what Raul told us five years ago. Just. Here, this girl likes you, take her out. They were set, he’d marry Marian and that would be it. Then Jorge showed up and it all went to hell as far as they’re concerned. But.”, he moved his eyes to the track, watching one of the red bikes take to the gravel, but not crash. Excellent reflexes. „But they do enjoy the all paid vacations with the Martin family and the expensive spa days for Mama and the fishing trips on big boats for Papa. And they enjoy Jorge’s money, incidentally. We’re not poor and the Martins aren’t really rich, but there’s definitely a discrepancy there. Just enough for Mama to both dislike her son marrying a man and enjoy the perks that come with Jorge. Just enough for Papa to tell me how good of a son I am cause I’m normal and don’t need to feel special like Raul. And then he goes on fucking scuba diving weekends with Angel and looks him in the eyes and they make plans for a wedding they don’t care for and still hope gets cancelled. Or not. Cause then there would be no more of the extra money.”

„Oh. Cub. Adrian. Do you need a break? Do you want a hug? Do you want me to talk now or do you want to continue?”, the older man asked softly, voice just loud enough for Adrian to hear him over the roar of the engines.

He pulled out the chocolate bar he’d brought along, meticulously opened it and offered half of it to Marc, who took it without hesitation and without fanfare. It helped. It settled something inside for him, that his friend would have some food with him and would listen to him talk. That he could be a good friend and share his food. Inhale. Exhale.

„I’ll talk, please. I want to go on that date with Deniz. I do. So much. I’m so taken with him and he’s so kind and so absolutely bouncy and lacking patience and he’d be horrible at Elden Ring and. I want to kiss him. Hold hands. Touch him. And maybe do other things with him.”, he blushed hard, covering his face for a moment with his hands. „But if I do, then this family, it will break apart and my parents will be disappointed and desperate and probably hate Raul and blame him for me. They’ll talk about me...”

He stopped, choking on a sudden sob, turning away from Marc for a moment. More than a moment, as tears rose up again and he shook with anger for his thirteen year old self who’d just figured out he was gay hearing words like those from his parents. Different. Strange. Not right. Destroying his career. Not. Right. Not right. Not. Right. Wrong. Adrian felt Marc scoot over next to him and sit there, not touching him and not looking at him. Watching the track. Giving him privacy. He wiped at his face and leaned onto Marc’s side, smiling when the older man leaned back.

„They’ll talk about me like they talk about Raul. Like he’s fucking dead or suffering from some sort of terminal and incurable illness. And I think they’ll feel betrayed by me even more than Raul. I was supposed to be the normal one, the good kid and all that shit.”, Adrian finished, all the fight draining out of him by the minute. „I want to kiss Deniz, but I’m scared of what my parents will do when they find out. That’s what I need advice on, Marc.”

„So, you need to understand and accept what I’m going to say as fact, sweetheart. You’re not wrong. You’re perfectly yourself. There’s nothing sick about you. And it’s sure as fuck not your job to keep your family afloat. If it breaks, they broke it. Done. If it doesn’t break, then they have a lot of growing up and healing to do before either of you boys should ever set foot in that house again.”, Marc said, voice low and even. Hard. But Adrian wasn’t afraid. He wanted to hear what Marc had to say because he needed someone to confirm what he had in mind for the very immediate future. A date with Deniz and a way out of his parents’ house. „You’re not going to like what I have to say, but you need to talk to Raul because I don’t think he’s as oblivious as you seem to believe. I also don’t think he knows how it’s affecting you. If you don’t want to tell him everything yet, just tell him plainly that you’re not going back to that house and you’re coming to stay with him and Jorge. He won’t say no and neither will Jorge. Remove yourself from that situation. You have the means to and a place to go. For the rest of it, well. You said when and not if they find out. So you’re going on that date, as you should. Just. A. Don’t get trapped, okay? Run. Ask for help. Accept help. We’re here for you. All of us.”

Adrian nodded, wiping at his face again. Fucking hell, he was still crying, even as he hadn’t wanted to. He hadn’t even thought he still had tears to shed after five years of hiding and crying himself to sleep at times. He’d wanted to tell Raul so many times and he’d wanted to tell his friends or anyone really, but all he could hear whenever he’d been close to confessing had been his father’s very wrong words about Raul. Late at night, when both him and Raul were supposed to be sleeping, his father would talk. Not loudly, but words would carry in the dead of night, especially to very young ears that would just take them in and then hate themselves for being exactly that what fathers hate. No. Not fathers. His father. Jorge’s father was fine with his son being bisexual. Marc’s father was fine with his son being gay. Fabio’s father was a bit of no show in the paddock, but his mother had always been there for every big race and every single important event. Oh. Maybe. Maybe he could talk to Fabio too. Blush and stutter and probably make an idiot of himself, but he could. He probably should, if the Frenchman would have him for a chat. For later, though.

„Thank you. Really. It’s not something I didn’t know or didn’t plan for. It’s... Why I asked Raul to not send me home, to be honest. I need to get the courage to ask him to just come with me to pack and then take me with him. It’s just going to be hard and it might get very shitty and I don’t want to see my mother cry and hear my father yell. Or Raul yell at them. Fuck me. I just don’t want to go back. At all.”, Adrian waved down at the track where his brother had pulled over and was gesturing towards them. Marc gave him a thumbs up and Raul nodded, his intense eyes tracing his brother’s face from afar. And his body language, Adrian knew. Yeah, that would be an interesting conversation that he’d desperately wished he’d both had sooner and perhaps never at all. Who even knew at this point.

„You can not go and just have Raul pack your stuff and bring them to Andorra. It’s allowed, A. I promise you that whatever will save you the most grief is more important than whatever fuck feelings you think you need to take care of. They’re grown ups. They’re your parents. They should’ve cared for your well being, not the other way around. You shouldn’t have had to shape yourself into something you’re not for them to love you.”, Marc growled low, hand on Adrian’s shoulder, comforting and kind. Fierce. But in defence of him, not angry at him. It felt... Good. It felt freeing. It felt like he could breathe and he knew it would be even lighter on him when he’d tell Raul. He could, perhaps, take Marc’s advice and not go.

„Would it be the coward’s way out? Me not going? Just leaving for the Misano GP and then simply not returning? Just sending an honestly fuming Raul there to scream the place down and pack my things?”, he wondered out loud, leaning back into Marc’s shoulder for a long moment, needing the champion’s strength and some of his determination to overcome. A nudge back. He had it. Anything he needed from Marc and, by extension, Fabio was there. As he waited for the evening session to draw to a close, he pulled out his phone and texted two people. One was Deniz, who got a simple yes, I’ll see you next week. Call later? . And the other was his big brother. They needed to talk.

***

Adrian had had two of the worst days of his eighteen years when he’d finally managed to close the door behind him in the spare bedroom of Jorge’s house in Andorra. It was done. He was free. Well, staying with his big brother and his brother’s fiancé for the moment, but free. Adrian could’ve kissed both of them on Wednesday evening when they’d not even flinched or asked for more than the explanation he was currently willing to share with them, which was... Flimsy at best. But enough. He’d sat them both down and asked to be allowed to live with them from that moment on, without ever going back to his parents’ house and Raul and Jorge simply looked at each other, nodded and proceeded to make plans for the move.

He didn’t have the guts to tell Raul all the truth and nothing but the truth, so he’d had to go with him and ask him to sit in the car while he packed the remaining parts of his life into two large suitcases amongst his mother’s quiet fury and his father’s obvious anger. Impotent, both of them, because Adrian had the one advantage they’d not fight against. Not really. They were, perhaps, aware that it wouldn’t hold forever, but Adrian’s silence over their behaviour was enough to let him go without more than a few harsh words and a lot of crying. He’d been numb then and he was still numb now. Just numb. He’d pulled his suitcases out of the house he’d been born and raised in, shoved them into Raul’s car and sat silently in the passenger seat for the five hundred kilometres until Jorge’s front door. No music. Nothing. No words from Raul either. When they’d pulled into the garage, his brother turned off the car and placed his hand on top of Adrian’s, squeezing it gently and waiting. As far as Adrian was concerned, Raul could wait a little longer. He just couldn’t muster the words or the brain cells it would’ve taken to say something. Anything. Everything, perhaps.

„Later, Raul. I just want to sleep for the weekend and run. Train. Whatever. I’ll not be in your way, but I can’t put more words to this right now. I promise you we’ll talk. Soon. Just not right this instant.”, he’d whispered, praying his brother wouldn’t be the stubborn asshole he usually was. Raul had nodded and Adrian had exhaled loudly. „Thank you. I love you.”

„I love you too, little brother. So much, okay? Whatever time you need, you take it. I’m here. You’re here now. Jorge is here too. You want to train with us, we’re okay with that. Anything you need. And when you’re ready to tell me things, you do that.”, Raul had pulled him in for a hug and Adrian had almost caved and opened his heart and brain up right then. But no. Not yet. Saved by Kuala, who had come out of the house barking and wagging her precious tail. Good girl.

Enough. He’d hugged Jorge, they’d carried his shit to the second bedroom that was to be his and... There he was, sitting on the floor, back to the wooden door and crying. Again. Fuck’s sake. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Three hours until dinner. He got up, washed his face and called Deniz, waiting for the other boy to pick up. It usually took the Turk about three or so rings before he did, but he was always smiley and ready for a long conversation when he did show his face on camera. Pretty, pretty, pretty face. Adrian needed that right then and he got it. Deniz, smiling widely at him and waving through the camera from somewhere near the water. Istanbul, Adrian knew. But where, it didn’t really matter as long as they could talk freely. And they could, because Deniz’s first words were definitely flirty.

„Well, aren’t you the poutiest I’ve ever seen you. Still pretty, though. Hello, A.”, Deniz smiled widely, sipping coffee and running his hands through his hair. Adrian snorted, rubbing at his reddened and tired eyes, but not protesting the compliment. He’d learned that Deniz was very insistent on him accepting compliments, so he’d just take it and ignore it. It wasn’t like he’d get to believe it was true, was it?

„Merhaba, Deniz. How are you? That’s a pretty view you have there.”, Adrian said, poking his tongue out at the older boy and rolling around until he sat with his back to the headboard, overheated and so desperate for a shower. Fuck, he should’ve taken a moment to cool down. Deniz’s eyes slipped for a second and Adrian followed them down, grimacing at his shirt sticking to him and sweat dripping slowly from his hair. Not sexy by the sounds Deniz was making. Whining. „Wait, hold on, I’ll do something about the way I look. Less gross.”

„Um, A, you look fine, honestly. No need to change or any-fuck me, you’re shirtless. Fuck. A.”, Deniz whispered, dropping the phone to the table and making Adrian feel just this bit self conscious. He reached for the sheet to cover himself up just in time for the phone to be picked back up and for him to look at Can. Oh. Well. How would one react towards the twin brother of the guy he was going on a date with soon and had been teammates with for the past nine months? Especially when said twin was smirking and shoving balled up napkins at Deniz.

„What this idiot over here is trying and fucking failing to impress on you, apparently, is that he thinks you’re the hotest guy he’s ever seen and that you’re trying and succeeding in killing all of his braincells with pretty much everything you’re doing.”, Can said in a heavily accented Spanish, yelping loudly when his brother wrestled the phone away from him and stood up, walking to what looked like the edge of a balcony.

Red as a lobster, Adrian stared at the whole scene in disbelief and then giggled when Deniz finally showed his face back on camera, blushing hard. Okay, he could maybe try this out. But maybe not. Not... Then. He wanted to tease Deniz. Or maybe not tease. More like deliberately show parts of himself in this context of them flirting and not just randomly when they got ready for racing or whatever. So he lifted the sheet up to his shoulders, letting it drop just enough to show a bit of his collarbones and the arching of his chest. Oh. Well. Fuck. Deniz followed the movement of his fingers, biting his lip and making that same sound as before. Not annoyance and not anything bad. Oh. Up the sheet went and so did Deniz’s eyes. That was fun. And still a bit incredible, but definitely fun. He leaned over to grab a protein bar from his snack bag, smiling when Deniz mumbled something that sounded a lot like fuck .

„Eyes up here, okay? Please and thank you. Let’s try this again, huh? Hi, Deniz. Do you have time to keep me company until dinner?”, Adrian traced his teammate’s face gently, taking in everything about the other boy, from the twitch of his lips to the curve of his eyebrows and to his high cheekbones. The very fashionable haircut was fun too, as was Deniz’s confidence and his charm. It had seemed overwhelming at first, nine months ago, but now it was just fun and relaxing. And it definitely didn’t feel mocking.

„I totally do! Yes, absolutely. Totally. Let me just send my brother to do whatever else and I’m all yours. I mean. I.”, Deniz stuttered, giving up on any decorum and just groaning loudly while waving his brother out the room and sitting down. Phone on the table. Deniz pouting just a bit. Adrian giggled. „I’m here. Hi. Won’t your parents want to spend time with you, though?”

„Mmmmmm. I’m not at their house anymore. I mean, I don’t live there anymore. I’m staying with Raul for the foreseeable future.”, he mumbled, playing with the edges of the sheet. Adrian had no clue if Deniz wanted any part in that mess, but he’d have liked to talk to the other boy. Maybe make some sense of it like that. Right. Consent and intent, clearly stated. „I want to tell you about that, but only if you have the emotional capacity for it, cause it’s rather a lot. And the patience, cause I will need some breaks. And if you don’t want to deal with all of me by the end of it and want to cancel our date, that’s fine too. You can tell me to stop at any time. Yes? No? Maybe?”

„Evet. Absolutely. Tell me anything you’re willing and ready to. I promise I’ll be good and let you know if I also need a break. As for patience, come on. I’ve been trying to speak to you for nine months. I’m patient. Not on track, true, but out here and with you, yes.”, Deniz smiled softly, resting his chin on his knees and looking at Adrian with a lot of kindness. And, indeed, patience.

The Spaniard inhaled, exhaled and talked. Not... everything. Not from the beginning. But a lot of it. A lot of the past five years and a lot of what was happening inside his head and heart right then. The happiness of a safe environment. The sadness that it couldn’t be with his parents. The softness of his love for Raul and for Jorge, who’d taken him in without any sort of complaint and with the most open of hearts. The harshness of what would always, somehow, be his love for his parents and whatever they could feel for him. Maybe love, maybe disappointment. A smile here and there and some tears. Deniz didn’t flinch, didn’t move and didn’t interrupt Adrian, not even once. After two hours of talking and with very little voice left, Adrian laid down in bed, close to falling asleep, exhausted beyond belief. But he had dinner with his brother and Jorge and he still had Deniz on the phone with him, even as his eyes kept closing gently.

„Go to sleep, A. We’ll talk when you wake up and I’ll see you in Aragon. We still haven’t decided when we’re doing the date. Thursday? We could on Wednesday, I get there on Wednesday morning. We’ll see. Go to sleep, güzel. Will be here.”, Deniz whispered as quiet as he could, his smile the last thing Adrian saw before falling asleep in the late Andorran afternoon.

Adrian slept, missing two things, both important in their own right. First, the fact that Deniz didn’t end the call for a while, just sitting there with him, watching the waves and listening to him softly snore. And second, Raul knocking on his door an hour later, entering after he’d received no answer and simply sitting next to him in bed for the longest of times just to keep an eye on his troubled and hurting baby brother, grip tight on his phone. A couple of hours later, Jorge poked his head through the door and nodded towards Adrian, still somewhat asleep, smile soft on his face.

„You’re staying here with him tonight, yes?”, Adrian heard from very far away. He wanted to protest, but he also didn’t want to. He wanted to be selfish for a moment and hold onto his brother, whom he could feel right there next to him. But maybe not.

„Yes. I won’t leave him alone tonight. I shouldn’t have ever left him alone there, kitten. Fuck me, I was so wrong about them. I don’t know how I can make this right with him. We’ll see about tomorrow. Just. Thank you. I love you. I’ll see you at breakfast, I’ll make sure he’s awake by then.”, Raul whispered right back at Jorge and Adrian frowned, reaching out towards his brother. Too tired. But the guilt wasn’t going to help anyone or erase anything that had happened. Too tired. Tomorrow. Just a mumbled love you to Raul and a kiss on his forehead from his brother. Then sleep again. Deep sleep and the prettiest eyes in the paddock smiling at him.

***

Adrian had gone through about five emotions in the span of the three or so minutes it took the elevator to get from the ground floor of their hotel to the fifth one where Deniz’s room was for the next four days. His own was right next to Raul’s, both their usual thing and precaution for the next few weeks so that their parents wouldn’t just show up randomly and Adrian would have to be left alone with them. He snorted, hoping and praying that he’d not come back to his room and find either his mother there or a frantic Raul, convinced he’d taken up drugs or something because his own words of I’m going to hang out with Deniz didn’t seem to convince his big brother. Which. Fair. He’d never, not once, hung out with any of their colleagues and definitely not with his former teammates. However.

Fifth floor. No more howevers. Second room on the left. Small anxiety spike as the elevator doors closed behind him. Smallish. They’d talked. A lot. Deniz was a good person and they’d play some Elden Ring, eat some pizza and have some non alcoholic beverages, get hopped up on sugar and probably end the night running it all off until the early hours of the morning. Yes. That was how things would go.

It wasn’t how things would go and Adrian knew that for a fact as soon as Deniz opened the door, hair wet and absolutely no shirt in sight, smiling way too innocently for that to be just a casual happening. Nope. The utter asshole had planned that and Adrian was definitely having trouble breathing, his eyes travelling down Deniz’s jaw to his collarbones and even further down where there was a lot of skin on display, ending up in some very flattering joggers that hid absolutely nothing. Not that there was a lot to hide in a paddock, but that, there, in that space, that was intentional. An invitation, because Adrian was convinced neither of them had enough refinement in them for that to be a seduction. He blinked and found himself pulled forward in an instant, faster than his own honed reflexes could even register and shoved hard against the closed and locked door, with Deniz pressing him into the wood, body moulded to his own. Another instant and there would have been lips on his and hands on his ass, bringing him closer and closer to Deniz’s skin, hot and wanting. No. Not like that. He turned his head to the side and shoved at the other boy about as hard as he’d been grabbed, surprising the Turk. Deniz stumbled, tripped over his own legs and the shaggy carpet and fell on his ass in the most inelegant heap of curses in more than three languages that Adrian had ever seen. He jumped up on top of the dresser next to the door, checking his nails pointedly and keeping an eye on Deniz and his temper. He’d been promised patience and instead he’d found a half naked and very horny young man waiting for him with a definite purpose in mind. Sex. Yeah. Not happening.

„Nah, sit there for a moment and think on how this evening started. Definitely don’t touch me.”, Adrian said plainly when the other boy tried to sit up, a spot of anger darkening his voice and sharpening his tone. He smiled, cold and distant, a mirror image of his big brother in Raul’s bad days, leaning in just a little to catch Deniz’s eyes, lowered and stubborn in not wanting to look at him. The Turk had stayed down, though. „Good boy. You feeling less handsy or do I pour some ice down your pants? Cause you’re all showered up and there’s fucking champagne here. I’m sure some of that ice would cool you down in a moment. Wanna explain all of this and try again or do I just walk out the fucking door and we forget the last ten days?”

„I-i'll go put a shirt on. A. Please don’t go. I-.”, Deniz started, blushing hard and barely meeting Adrian’s eyes. Barely. Just enough to see what he’d do, Adrian was convinced. He knew that look, he’d seen it next to him on track and he nodded to himself. Deniz had tried something reckless, had failed and now he would be more than open to actually being the person he was in general, outside of the adrenaline rush of certain moments.

„Go. Get dressed. I’m walking out the door and knocking. We try again, Deniz. Don’t grab me this time, please.”, the Spaniard jumped down and turned his back on the older boy just as pointedly as he’d climbed that dresser a minute ago. He wasn’t afraid of Deniz and he’d gone far enough to try. Fucking. Again. Not fucking. No. Just try again for a date that didn’t involve fucking.

Adrian opened the door and did not, for the love of all that was holy, slam it shut. No. He did not. He walked out and considered the events of the past five minutes, leaning on the wall next to Deniz’s door. Shaking. Now he was shaking. Fuck. He shoved the backs of his hands into his eyes for a moment, biting down on his lip and wanting to scream. Wanting. Not screaming. Right. A choice for him, bit like what Deniz hadn’t allowed him back there. He could walk to the elevator and text Deniz that he wasn’t coming back. That would’ve been both safe and sane. Good night’s sleep and a talk with Raul in the morning. Another boy would show up, he had no doubt. He did want that particular boy, though.

Or. He could knock, walk back in and actually have sparkly, non alcoholic drinks, pizza and a nice date with Deniz. He could have a couple of hours to just be next to the boy he really liked and talk to him. Maybe hold hands. Maybe get a kiss. Right.

He turned around and knocked on the door, which Deniz answered in a second, blushing and definitely wearing a shirt and some shorts that weren’t really meant to be ditched in the blink of an eye. The Turk was running a hand through his hair, opening the door widely and keeping his hands to himself that time. Adrian snorted, pushing at the wood and sitting there, a good twenty centimeters away from Deniz, staring up at him with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The intensity of that gaze remained the same, though the intent was much tamer. Adrian’s skin was on fire underneath Deniz’s eyes, but it was the fire of a long, wintery night, not the blaze of the Spanish summer. Deniz wanted, but he’d not take. Not uninvited. Good.

„Hi, Deniz.”, Adrian whispered, blushing and smiling widely, feeling at ease once Deniz smiled back just as widely, looking very much like a dork and not whatever he’d looked like before. That was... Different. Not yet. Not like that.

„Hi, A. Hello. Hola. Merhaba. I. Hi. Game? Pizza? I’m sorry, I was stupid. I am stupid. And brash. And yeah, handsy and grabby. I’m sorry. That wasn’t a good thing and absolutely not something that should’ve happened. Ever. I’m sorry.”, Deniz stumbled through his words, but made it to the end with only one of his nails completely bitten down and enough blushing to last him for a couple of years.

Adrian watched his body language carefully, trying to establish if the older boy was honest. He couldn’t see any indication of anything being a lie or a half truth, so he nodded, took a small step backwards and held his hand out, palm up and open for Deniz to take. The Turk stared at him with something close to awe and maybe some genuine surprise, but wouldn’t really move, still gripping the wooden frame hard. Adrian smiled, wiggling his fingers and giggling sweetly when Deniz’s expression shifted to confused as fuck. Yes, he definitely knew how that felt, lost in a situation where he knew nothing about the rules of engagement and if they were negotiable in any way, shape or form. Right. He could help with that.

„Thank you for apologising. You’re forgiven because I think you’re honestly sorry for jumping me like that. Please don’t do it again, not without my say so.”, Adrian nodded gently when Deniz placed his palm over the Spaniard’s and pulled the older boy closer for a quick, but tight hug. He inhaled Deniz’s scent, nuzzling his shoulder and enjoying the moment, almost cooing as the Turk laid his head on Adrian’s. Warm. He pulled back, feeling validated when the other boy let him go immediately and even tried to step back. No. Not back. „Game? You brought your PS5, yes? And feed me, I’m starving, please.”

„Yes, of course. Yes, A. Anything you want, I promise I’ll be good.”, Deniz smiled, still this bit unsure, but much better than before.

He pulled Adrian towards the couch and pointed to the large TV and the console next to it, giggling and mumbling something in Turkish. The Spaniard ignored him as he studied the set up, approved of it after a few minor changes and then asked for the remote wordlessly. He received all of the remotes possible and a bottle of something carbonated and fruity in one go. The pizza menu came next. Then a couple of pillows. Then some water. Then some chocolate. But no Deniz. Adrian pouted, catching the older boy’s eye and pointing towards the couch next to him, where Deniz sat down sheepishly after a moment and a chewed nail. A controller for him and something fizzy for Deniz and they pressed play on the most gorgeous and immersive game Adrian had played in a very long time.

They talked. They played. Pizza arrived and Deniz jumped off the couch to get it. A lot of pizza. That was more than enough to feed them both a couple of times over and have leftovers for the morning. There was also ice-cream. And more chocolate. Adrian laughed at Deniz’s disgruntled look when one of the many slices of pizza simply gave up on life and ended up on the Turk’s shorts, making a huge mess and definitely forcing an outfit change. When Deniz returned with something resembling sleeping shorts and a huge towel that he promptly arranged on Adrian’s lap, he was completely endeared. Done for.

As bad as their date had started, the way Deniz had taken care of him after that just made Adrian sweeter on him by the minute. Anything and everything that he could’ve possibly wanted, Deniz was providing and waiting for Adrian to try, to taste, to approve and to ask for more. That made the Turk simply glow with pride and mischief as he kept digging through the stuff he’d bought and offered them to Adrian one by one. Coconut and rum chocolate. No. Some sort of waffle with a strawberry middle. Meh. A solid chocolate sphere with nothing but more chocolate inside. Still meh. A piece of peanut butter and chocolatey goodness. Yes. Adrian would’ve giggled if it didn’t seem rude as Deniz figured out he liked salty sweets and started to delicately hand him salted caramel pretzels and some sort of pear candy with a licorice middle. Excellent. The fizzy drinks were fine, but he did stick to sparkling water after a can of something way too sweet for his tastes. He relaxed back into the couch after a while, touching Deniz shoulder to knee and nudging him softly. And pointedly. And once more.

„Put your arm around me? I want to cuddle a little, but I also want to play. If you want?”, Adrian blushed, definitely not squeaking when Deniz nodded, placed a delicate kiss on his cheekbone and wrapping his arm around the Spaniard’s shoulders. Oh.

„Lean in? Do you need anything else before you get settled? Pizza? Candy? A blanket?”, the other boy stuttered, losing a bit of his train of thought as Adrian kissed his cheek.

Sweet revenge. And kinda addictive, it seemed. Another kiss. Adrian’s lips lingered for a moment, feeling the texture of Deniz’s skin. Bit bristly. Bit bumpy. Not perfect. Like his own, just this shade of imperfect, dotted with blemishes and marks. Another kiss. Deniz’s hands twitched, but didn’t move and his head didn’t turn. Another kiss. A low sound was coming from Deniz. A growl. No. A purr. Not really. Adrian needed more of that sound to sample because it had been delicious. Another kiss and his hand dropping the controller, but travelling easily up to Deniz’s chin, turning his head around. Flushed. Eyes wide. Lips open. Adrian didn’t know much of desire, but the rapid heartbeat he could feel underneath his fingertips and the shallow breathing were definite signs of Deniz wanting him. And he wanted back. He licked his lips, nuzzling the other boy’s cheeks and cradling his face gently. He. H-he.

„I want you to kiss me, please. I-Deniz, I’ve never kissed anyone before. Never. But I want you to kiss me. Please.”, the Spaniard whispered, lips almost touching Deniz’s soft and chapped ones.

Almost. Warm. A gasp from one of them. Maybe Adrian. Maybe Deniz. And a kiss. Just a gentle pressure at first. For a moment, Adrian couldn’t feel much. Was that all there was to. Oh. Deniz tilted his head to the left, slotting their lips together firmly and licking a small and cheeky stripe at the seam of Adrian’s mouth. Fuck. That one move made the Spaniard shiver, sending soft lines of heat from his mouth to his collarbones and down his chest. He arched his back and opened his mouth, wrapping his arms around Deniz’s neck and pulling him closer. Closer. Closer. Arms around his waist, a large hand splayed between his shoulderblades and Deniz moaning low in his throat. Adrian pulled gently on the other boy’s hair, making him whine and try to move back. No.

„That sound. Deniz. I want to hear that again.”, Adrian said, voice shaking with lust. Lips on lips, hands moving over his shoulders and chest. There. Heartbeat. Strong. Powerful. Fast.

He wanted and he was clumsy with desire, his skin on fire. Every touch was electric and going straight to his cock, harder and harder by the moment. Deniz was kissing him over and over again, pulling moans out of him, but not really giving him that one sound that had made the little ball at the back of his head unfurl and open its eyes. How. How to move and how to act for that to be a thing again? He pulled back gently, licking at Deniz’s lips one last time and opening his eyes. Mistake. Blessing. Both. None. Deniz was wrecked, panting and flushing, lips wet and pillowy, bitten and soft. Chapped too. Hair askew, falling into his eyes, dark with something curious for Adrian’s brain. Breathing heavily and moving his hands to his own lap, Deniz leaned back into the couch and threw his head to the side, panting and watching him with both the softest and keenest of eyes. Adrian sat there for a long moment, trying to parse what came next and how to act. He wanted, but he had no clue what or how or even why. Fuck, his inexperience hadn’t ever been a problem, but it sure as fuck felt like one now.

„A. Please. Tell me.”, Deniz whispered, voice low and rumbly, rolling the words close to Adrian’s skin in a way that he couldn’t really understand. It didn’t matter. Self discovery was for later.

„Tell you what, Deniz? What do you want to know?”, he asked, on the verge of something that he had no knowledge of. It felt real, but unknown. Not wrong, just delicate and unsure. And like a conversation of more than words with a partner that didn’t truly seem more in the know than he was, but just as willing.

„Tell me what you want to happen. Just that, please.”, the Turk answered after a few seconds, blinking slowly, lazy and soft. No. Not lazy. Wrong word, but he couldn’t find another one.

It was a request. It wasn’t a request. It was. It wasn’t. Deniz’s words swirled once more on his skin, flooding his body with heat. With cold. With electricity. His reply mattered and he had a feeling that a cheeky what do you want to happen next wouldn’t go well. It wasn’t even sitting well with himself, inside his own brain. Deniz wanted him to set the tone for the rest of the evening and he would, knowing that it was okay with both of them in the end. If Deniz would agree. He could ask for sex, he was convinced it would be freely available and with no strings attached. It would be good. So good, if the kissing was any indication. He could. But he wouldn’t. Not yet. He didn’t feel ready to be naked with Deniz, no matter how much he wanted the other boy. He could ask to go, but he really didn’t want that and it felt like the completely wrong time to do so. No. No sex and no leaving. But he wanted to touch Deniz and maybe kiss him from time to time.

„I want to cuddle here, kiss you, play some more of this game and eat some more pizza. Is that okay with you?”, Adrian smiled into the words, stretching towards Deniz and giggling when the older boy nodded enthusiastically and slipped a hand between them to place on the Spaniard’s chest. A wordless request and one which Adrian couldn’t really figure out, but he covered Deniz’s hand with his own and it seemed like enough, pulling the other boy close.

Deniz went easily, blanketing him and laying his head on Adrian’s chest. Settled. Settling. The controller was handed to him and the pizza was pulled closer to them. So was the pack of bottled water and the bowl of candy that Deniz had finally selected before they’d started making out. It was endearing and, quite honestly, impressive how many things the Turk could do while laying half on top of Adrian, looking sleepy and smiley. Oh. Deniz liked that, liked when Adrian would run his fingers through his hair and down his back. Across his shoulders. Back up to his neck and into his hair. To his cheekbone and jaw. Across his lips. Oh. That sound. There it was. A cross between a whine and... A purr? Oh. Deniz was purring, but not really? Whatever that sound was, he was all for it. All. For. It. So was his cock, it seemed, as he started hardening again, even as Deniz was literally doing nothing but breathing, eyes closed and quietly enjoying how Adrian carresed him. Fuck. Would the other boy think more than he should about Adrian getting hard? He knew Deniz could feel him, that was for sure. Should he even say anything? Should he move himself or Deniz?

„Do you want to do anything about that?”, Deniz asked, gesturing down towards Adrian’s cock, trapped between them. When the Spaniard didn’t answer after a few seconds, he tried lifting himself up and moving away, but Adrian wouldn’t have that. Absolutely not.

„Wait. No. I. Please don’t, you feel good on top of me. I-i don’t want to do anything about my cock, no. If it doesn’t bother you, please don’t move?”, Adrian smiled sheepishly, blushing and running a hand over his face. Deniz snorted and rolled his hips, letting Adrian feel his own hard cock with a smirk and a wink. The Spaniard was amused, finding the other boy cheeky and sweet, especially after Deniz settled back on his chest, between his opened legs and whined . Honest to God whined. „Wanna share with me why you’re whining now? Do you want to do something about your cock? Is that why?”

Deniz shook his head, nuzzling deeper and deeper into Adrian’s arms, pouty and blushy. And still whining, even if a lot more silent about it. Adrian watched the other boy lift a hand, hover with it over his own and then just take it back and place it on his chest. Then the other hand. Same thing. Then back to the sides. That’s all that Deniz did for a little while and it was mesmerising. That and whining, which was confusing Adrian and making him a bit frustrated with himself, even as something akin to a tail swished around his brain impatiently and sent tingles from the back of his head to the tip of his fingers. What. What was that and why was it getting more and more snarly at him as Deniz was whining more and more. What. Why.

„Sweet, you need to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t read your mind, Den. Are you sleepy? Hungry? Thirsty? Do you want to move?”, he asked, feeling worse and worse with every question because it fucking visibly stressed Deniz the fuck out. The Turk shook his head with each one, but wouldn’t explain anything, both trying to bury himself deeper in Adrian’s arms and to move back with every question that remained unanswered. A loud snarl echoed throughout his head, making him tense and curse at himself and the fucking creature inside his brain that was just as fucking silent as Deniz was and it kept fucking biting and scratching at him every time the other boy moved, which was a lot. No. Yes. Was that... Adrian lifted his arms and wrapped them loosely around Deniz’s shoulders, with his fingers trailing through the other boy’s hair.

Oh. The change in Deniz was immediate and obvious and it made Adrian want to preen and do a little happy dance. Offer some pets for the troubleshooting element in his brain. A snarl. Fine. Not an element. A creature. Nosing at Deniz’s hair and holding him close was much better than the introspection, so he just moved on for now. Fuck, that had made all the difference in the world, him wrapping his arms around Deniz’s shoulders. That had been all that the other boy had wanted if the content sighing was anything to go by. And the smiles. And the closed eyes. And the relaxed features. And the weight of him on top of Adrian, safe and warm.

„Are you sleepy? Do you want me to be quiet?”, Adrian knew that more questions weren’t going to help, not really, but he had not a shred of reference for whatever it was that they were doing at the moment and he kinda needed Deniz’s words and his consent. Right. Constant consent and communicating intent. „I need you to answer me, sweet. I need to know I’m not doing more than I should or touching you more than I should. Are you okay? Are you sleepy? Should I keep quiet?”

„I’m really good, A. I’m perfect. Just stay like this and play, please. Talk to me. I’ll try and answer, but I’m so relaxed and so good that I just want to hear you talk.”, Deniz whispered after a few moments, eyes opened and dark, focusing on a point across the room even as he carresed Adrian’s arm gently.

„Yes, anything you want. Yes.”, the Spaniard arranged them easily on the couch, grabbed the controller again, kissed Deniz’s hair and started playing and narrating whatever was happening on screen. Hours passed before Adrian set the controller down for any length of time, getting tiny pieces of candy and water handed to him from time to time by a slowly, but surely more active Deniz.

When the older boy snuck up and kissed his nose, Adrian laughed and retaliated, rolling them both down from the couch and onto the shaggy carpet with a loud thud. Oh. Okay. Maybe that had been a bad idea, because now he a very willing and very gorgeous and dishevelled Deniz staring up at him intensely, hands on his thighs and lips opened and wet. Fuck. He was straddling Deniz, cocks very close to rubbing together and he really wanted . He did and he didn’t. He wasn’t sure. Not yet.

Fuck, it felt hard, pun fucking fully intended, to unclench his hands from Deniz’s sides and simply roll to his feet, pulling the Turk with him gently. Into a hug, hiding his face into Deniz’s chest, wrapped in his arms and quiet. They could both be quiet together, swaying to the game’s music for a little while. Well. They could’ve done that if his phone hadn’t started vibrating from the table, hidden underneath some snacks. Deniz turned around, a bit startled and a lot sheepish, dug after it and handed the offending and still vibrating object to him. Oh. That was unfair. The Turk sat back down on the couch, legs stretched in front of him and a smirk on his lips, offering a hand to Adrian and gesturing to his lap. He smirked right back and swiped up on the phone, putting it to his ear and sitting down on Deniz’s lap, legs dangling off the couch and arm wrapped around the other boy’s shoulders.

„Earth to Adrian. Where are you, it’s fucking midnight. We have publicity hoops to jump through tomorrow and you’re off doing whatever it is that you’re doing.”, Raul started, inhaling sharply and obviously recalibrating his ranting when all that Adrian did was make a disapproving sound and snort. He could see Jorge roll his eyes at his older brother and mouth calm the fuck down at him. Inhale. Exhale. There it was. A different tone. „Hello, Adrian. Are you coming back to the hotel room tonight or we meet for breakfast in the morning?”

„Is Jorge making you read that from a piece of paper? Under duress? Are you being threatened with no sex if you don’t behave like not an overbearing asshole to your little brother for once?”, Adrian snarked, leaning in and kissing Deniz softly, completely ignoring his brother’s voice coming through the phone. He could multitask. Definitely. But Deniz was both more important than Raul’s hissy fit and much more interesting, so he hummed and pulled back, considering the situation for a long moment. Fuck, Deniz was gorgeous. „I’ll be back tonight, no worries. I’m busy now, out kissing boys. See you later.”

Deniz laughed, loud and clear and happy, letting Adrian sink into his arms and straddle his body once more, kissing him slow and soft and deep. And Adrian thought he was getting the hang of this kissing thing because he was a fast learner and Deniz was both a good teacher and a very dutiful trainer having kissed the Spaniard silly for the past six fucking hours. Oh. He pulled back again, staring in amazement at Deniz and at his flushed cheeks and shiny lips, eyes barely open and head thrown back. Six hours. They’d been touching and talking and eating and playing and being quiet for six hours and they’d passed in the blink of an eye. Adrian was hooked. He liked the companionship and the fact that they shared a past and a paddock and the fact that they’d always have racing in common. Well. It was addictive, that was for sure, to have Deniz underneath him, so open and so trusting, letting out a soft whine and turning his head to the side after a moment. Adrian inhaled hard, taken apart by his own brain screaming at him to lean down and bite at that patch of skin that he could see from underneath Deniz’s tshirt. There. Right there, on top of the Turk’s collarbone, he could simply open his mouth, lick a long stripe and bite down hard. There’d be a mark and he’d be able to tell that the evening hadn’t been a dream. He startled, opening his eyes as he felt Deniz’s hands cradle his face and... Fuck. There he was, teeth poised to bite and bruise and mark and. No. No. No. No consent. He shook his head and soothed Deniz, who was whimpering slowly, eyes wide and confused. A kiss to the older boy’s lips and Adrian’s hands in his hair, rolling them both to the couch and letting Deniz arrange them however he wanted as long as he had both arms around the Turk’s shoulders. Back to the couch for Deniz , it seemed, with Adrian placed between the world and himself, still a bit whiny and shivery despite all the touching and kissing.

„Tell me, Den. Tell me what’s wrong.”, Adrian nuzzled softly, eyes tracking every expression on Deniz’s face and kissing him over and over and over again for every frown that could start building. „Tell me, sweetness.”

„Nothing is wrong, A. Nothing. Just.”, Deniz mumbled, burying his head in Adrian’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around the Spaniard’s waist after a quick nod from him. A nudge. A shrug. „I want to keep you here for the evening. Sleep with you. Wait, no, that came out wrong. Sleep next to you. Not that I don’t want to sleep with you. I do. I... I’ll stop talking now.”

„Oh.”, the Spaniard blushed hard, eyes wide and hands suddenly sweating. Sleeping next to Deniz. And waking up with him. And eating breakfast with him. Without the pressure of having to do more than kiss and cuddle. H-he could do that, but not there. Raul would come marching down the hallways of the hotel soon enough, he was convinced. He swallowed and nodded. „Yes. Okay. We can do that. But you need to come to my room. I promise I’ll not let Raul just burst into there and find you in my bed, but... Yeah. Come to my room and I’ll take care of you? No. Um. No sex, please. That’s my only rule. We kiss, we cuddle, but no more. I’m not ready for that.”

„Yes. Yes. Yes. Thank you, A.”, Deniz squealed, laying a hard kiss to Adrian’s lips and jumping over him to get to his suitcases and dig around for a worn and fuzzy looking tshirt that he changed into before Adrian could even imagine what it was for. Oh. For sleeping. „Let’s go. We need sleep. I’ll set an alarm for eight am. We have the same PR thing for like eleven. That’s more than enough time to get back here, shower and meet you for breakfast. Yes? A?”

„Yup. Let’s go.”, Adrian giggled, standing up and enjoying a few more moments of kissing and slow dancing towards the door with the older boy, then putting their shoes on and stumbling out of the sixth floor room with the elegance of a pair of screeching forest creatures.

It didn’t matter. Not really. They’d be safe in Adrian’s room and no matter how loud they were traversing the common area of the suite that the Spaniard shared with his brother and Jorge, there was no one there to chide them or to stop them. The older couple was asleep and out of their way, so Adrian and Deniz found themselves in bed in less than ten minutes, just as Wednesday turned to Thursday. Cuddled. Warm. Relaxed. Deniz’s head on Adrian’s shoulder and his eyes closing easily after he’d fussed for a little while with getting Adrian something to drink and a thinner blanket.

As the Turk’s breath started to even out, Adrian picked up his phone and sent two texts. One to Raul, asking him not to barge into his room in the morning just so he could protect Deniz’s privacy and one to Marc, so he could carve some sense of what the last six hours had been. Because they’d been a lot and they felt good . And like something he’d seen before, though much less fluid. It had taken him until Deniz couldn’t settle if Adrian didn’t have the glass of water he’d gotten for the Spaniard to make the connection fully, but once it clicked, it was there and not going away. Kin. But also kin to Deniz somehow. Not like with Marc. But kin. He wouldn’t put a name to himself or to Deniz yet. Kin would work for now. His phone buzzed with a short Yes, after the press conference. and he slept. Deniz slept.

***

In the common area they’d stormed through not even fifteen minutes ago, Raul and Jorge looked at each other in the dark, sighing deeply at the obliviousness of teenagers. The two boys had passed right by them, even as they were sitting facing the large windows and watching the full moon.

„Sooooo, when he said he was hanging out with Deniz.”, Raul started, snickering softly at Jorge’s wide grin and mischievous eyes. „You think he meant hanging out naked with him? I did not expect that.”

„No speculating. And no being overbearing. He’ll tell you when he’ll tell you. Let’s go sleep. Enough of today.”, Jorge pulled his fiancé to their own room, closing the door softly on what had to have been the ten most heartbreaking days in a long time. But they were over. It was time to rebuild. Trust. Love. Friendship. Family.