Fic: Interconnection, Part 10b
Pairing: Mark Webber/Sebastian Vettel
Rating: M
Synopsis: Post-Singapore GP, Mark and Seb try to work through recent frustrations
Word count: 4,081
Disclaimer: Didn’t happen, never will. Don’t like, don’t read.
*
A hand job and a blow job later, the two men decided to have a shower. Spent from the effort and drained from tiredness, the plan was changed to a bath when it became clear that standing would be more taxing. Though both were thinking about how cheesy and inappropriately romantic a bubble bath was, the existence of a television made the decision less overtly intimate.
‘Not going to watch highlights of the race if that’s what you’re thinking,’ Mark warned. He was sated from his high, but not enough to be able to censor his words.
‘I know I won. I was there.’
The comment was met with a roll of the eyes. ‘Mega.’
‘Immense,’ Sebastian said in a sing-song voice.
‘Now who’s mocking who?’
Sebastian grinned cheekily. However, after a minute, the grin was replaced with a bite of the lip - it was rather confronting standing in the harsh light, the both of them stark naked and sporting tell-tale signs of sexual activity. How was one to casually stand around naked next to their lover anyway? They were still in the self-conscious stage.
Since it was taking a while for the bath to fill, the German decided to bring up a topic that had been bugging him post-race.
‘You had drinks with Alonso?’
Mark held back laughter as he emptied the bubble bath solution into the water. ‘No, I went to the Rihanna concert. Not as good as Bieber from last night.’
‘I’m being serious.’
Mark took a cheeky look at Sebastian’s arse. ‘Serious about what?’
Sebastian sighed in frustration. ‘Just forget it then.’
The older man grabbed hold of Sebastian’s arm, urging him to look his way again. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘No.’ It was a sullen response, followed by a pout.
They were used to fighting, but this had a different feel to it. ‘Spit it out, Vettel.’
‘I don’t like it,’ he replied in earnest.
The definition of ‘it’ was apparently pending.
Mark released his teammate. He then folded his arms across his chest, sensing an immature spat was on the cards. ‘Don’t like what? Friendship? Respect?’
Sebastian side-eyed him in response. ‘He doesn’t like me.’
‘Yeah, he and I have had that in common for some time now.’
‘So you talk about me?’
‘Seb, are you serious? Fernando is my friend. He’s not going to turn me against you. I got there on my own.’
‘Yeah, yeah. We’re not friends.’
‘You’re the one who said as much to that newspaper.’
Not another word was said until the bath was full. Citing what they said about one another publicly was a tiring game.
Mark got in first and then welcomed Sebastian in, hugging him from behind. Water hot and bubbles everywhere, Sebastian then grabbed the remote from its holder on the wall and flicked through the cable channels till he found one showing old British comedies.
It wasn’t enough to put a smile on his face.
‘He doesn’t like me,’ Sebastian repeated.
‘Nobody likes you.’
‘I know. I get booed all the time.’ The remote was replaced in its holder with some anger.
Mark held Sebastian tighter, speaking into his ear as he leaned into him. ‘Don’t let it get to you.’
‘I’m tired of pretending I don’t care,’ the German replied softly.
It was always coming up now; he’d told Britta it was annoying. Before the win, after the win, during his Sky segment with Ted…he always had to brush it off or explain it away.
‘Bit ironic it was probably the Australian fans who booed you tonight,’ Mark said. ‘They don’t like what you did to me.’
‘Yeah, but your bad luck isn’t my fault though.’
Mark knew Sebastian was talking about car trouble and not Malaysia. ‘Cursed. I’m cursed in this sport. All the more reason to move on.’
‘Shut up about your retirement. Dan isn’t you. It won’t be the same.’
Interestingly, Britta’s voice resurfaced in Mark’s mind in the form of a chiding warning about Sebastian needing to be protected. For her to be the voice of Mark’s conscience in this moment was downright strange, especially when the real Britta thought all they were doing was talking in private - as opposed to talking in private after getting each other off.
Did his teammate need to be protected from the worst of things? Mark knew there were a lot of horrible things said in the paddock these days, but many drivers and team members had come out and expressed their disappointment in the jeering tonight. Mark himself was one of those people, and Martin had certainly been quite direct on the podium earlier.
‘Haters gonna hate.’
Sebastian drew his elbow back to hit Mark in the chest. ‘That’s the best you can do to cheer me up? You are a hater.’ He was almost laughing from the ridiculousness it all. ‘You’re friends with haters too.’ He then thumped the water, causing bubbles to fly up into the air.
The frustrated gesture was a little childish in Mark’s eyes, confirming the idea that perhaps Sebastian needed to be coddled after all. Three championships to his name and another one on the way, and yet he wasn’t necessarily secure.
‘Not apologising for my friendship with Fernando,’ Mark declared.
‘He’d probably disown you if he found out about us.’
‘Perhaps. If he believed it.’
‘Yeah…It is unbelievable.’
Reluctant to continue the conversation, Mark grabbed a washcloth and started washing Sebastian’s back. It was a sign he cared, but it was also an activity to distract him. Sebastian had an episode of Blackadder to distract him - laughs, exaggerated accents and all things comical (though for Mark, nothing was as comical as his taxi reprimand).
‘You’ll stay his friend. Into next year, I mean,’ Sebastian suddenly said after a while.
‘Yeah, he and I have been mates for a long time now.’
‘Well…will you keep in touch with me?’
Mark took a few seconds to respond, even though he knew his answer instantly. ‘No. I won’t.’
There wasn’t much to laugh about when it came to the two of them, but cruelly there was the sound of mirth in the background.