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fall0utmind · 2 days ago

Text

Ruined

Hi, so this isn't my normal fic at all. It was a real effort of labour and love. I would really appreciate you reading it and letting me know what you think. I actually really love it so I hope you do too !!!!!! I know Tony/Fabio isn't the most popular pairing but I really hope you enjoy xx

AO3 HERE

RPF summer camp - 'sunburn'

It was Fabio's fault, really.

He was the one who told Mig that it was fine to include in the podcast.

Fabio had laughed, high and false in his throat, when the older man had asked if he should cut it out, eyes sympathetic. The sensible thing would have been to politely agree and request that any mention of Tony be eradicated from the final cut, but Fabio had never been sensible.

The fans would like it, if nothing else. They always liked the rider interactions. Better if it was something they weren't privy to: the secret interactions in the paddock, hidden behind corners and inside motorhomes. God knew that there were enough of them. Fabio knew that some of them would rock the motorbiking world and hence would never see the light of day.

(Well, not if Marc had his way.)

Mig was kind enough not to push or pry into it anymore, not so subtly changing the subject. But he had done enough by alluding to the nature of their relationship and the privacy it required.

Well, not that there was an actual relationship to keep private.

Fabio sort of wanted to make a childish comment about Franky in retaliation, calling attention to the way Mig stared at him like a forlorn puppy, if only to level the playing field. Instead, he shrugged it off, pretended for a second that this was normal, that he was fine. That Tony didn't mean the world to him, more than a friend ever should, or that Mig's questions had opened a sinking chasm of realisation inside his chest. He pointedly ignored Mig's concerned look and shoved any thoughts of his friend to the back of his mind, leaving before he could be interrogated further. He hugged Mig on the way out, tried not to think about the way he clung on a fraction too long.

He had never quite grasped how undeniably gone he was for his best mate until that moment, warm to the core as he talked about their friendship. Nor was he ready to admit that to himself by giving in to Mig's kindness. Fabio knew that Tony wouldn't mention it. They had been skirting around Fabio's weird affection for years, like biting around the soft, brown bit of an apple, letting the rotten parts decay some more, hoping one day it wouldn't exist at all. Fabio could play it off as a joke, he thought, in the same way he brushed aside all the girlfriend questions, pretending that a relationship was a waste of his time.

If anyone looked closely, if they knew Fabio, they would see that Tony wasn't a joke to him. Most had seemingly worked it out before Fabio. In hindsight, it wasn't like he had hidden his affection, his obsession with the younger man. Surely Tony understood. Fabio watched every one of Tony's races, standing on the other side of the pit wall to cheer him on, unashamed of the constant buzz and the cameras trained on him. He constantly wanted to be around the Italian, sought out his affection like a sunflower chased the sun even as it dipped below the horizon. Fabio didn't do that for anyone else.

It had just taken him years to understand that the affection he felt wasn't just the strong ties of friendship which bound them together. If Fabio was the last to catch on, that meant that Tony knew.

The problem wasn't really on Fabio's end, then.

(Or maybe it was, he was the one who had gone and developed a crush after all.)

He didn't even know where Mig had gotten half of his gossip, however true it was. Of course, Andrea was always in the paddock with the VR46 team, and anyone with eyes could see the closeness between Fabio and Tony. But this hit a little too close to home for his liking. It was like someone had come along and scooped out his soft middle, leaving his aching heart unprotected, almost handing the knife to Tony.

How Uccio had seen him at Tony's door was another mystery. He didn't think anyone had been around whilst he was skulking around the paddock, late enough that even the media had headed home. The picture was burned into his memory, but he had no recollection of when or where it was, just that it had been another bad practice, and Fabio, seeking comfort, had gone to Tony's door, following the warm light seeping out from inside.

He had been brave, for once, calling upon his friend rather than shutting himself away to sulk. Fabio had convinced himself to go to where he knew the younger man was, feeling turbulent, something tight squeezing in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He made it all the way to the door, only to hear the unmistakable sound of Tony's voice, soft and flirty as he spoke; the answering laugh was high-pitched, distinctly feminine. Presumably, he had company, flavour of the month, Fabio scoffed. He squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain, the feelings of inadequacy, fist still raised as if to knock. He left without entering, afraid to be a nuisance, his heart spasming. Fabio didn't think about it again; he cried himself to sleep in the darkness of his own empty motorhome instead.

He felt a little bit like he'd been drowning in denial until approximately three days ago, when the podcast had aired, and he watched just how fond his face was when talking about Tony. It was one thing for his friends to know, another to sit in the puddle of his own ignorance, something else entirely for his dirty laundry to be aired so publicly.

(And yet he had agreed.)

It was a cruel, last-minute wish to have more time, to explore this feeling, to acquaint himself with it before he had to package it up into a neat little box and shove it into the depths of his mind. The sudden switch up from believing he just adored his friend in all the normal ways to realising they had skipped past platonic long ago.

Tom, in typical fashion, sent him the little clips that Mig had posted on social media. The question marks accompanying the reel were damning, as was the incoming call, which Fabio promptly declined, ignoring several further messages from both Tom and Mathilde until he finally gave up and turned off his phone.

The evening was spent with Fabio in tears, wrapped in his softest hoodie, panicking because he had somehow missed the fact that he was in love with his best friend. He knew that he loved Tony, but he didn't realise that he was in love with Tony. How he had managed to miss that one was a mystery to all. His stomach churned with bitter fear, which clawed up the back of his throat, burning like acid. He sobbed until his head was pounding and unconsciousness took hold, still slumped on the sofa, an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, diet be damned.

The next day, he tried to outrun it, 21km until his legs felt jelly and he bent over the nearest rubbish bin to hurl his guts out. Unpleasant, yet somehow more tolerable than the damning weight of his feelings. Fabio stood in the shower for an undetermined amount of time after, his brain wading through years' worth of repressed emotions, trying to find something akin to authenticity to cling on to. He felt miserable. Thoughts swirled through his mind like water whirlpooling down the drain. He watched the glass cloud with steam, breathed in the air, and held his breath. He counted the droplets trickling down the walls, exhaled when he reached ten, gasping through the burn of his lungs, which matched the crack in his heart. Water fell from his hair, down his cheeks, obscuring the tears which were consistent now, streaming down his face, washed away by the shower.

Fabio didn't know what he was meant to do.

He towelled off after, once the water began to run cold. He redressed into something comfortable, forgoing food since unlikely he to keep anything down. His phone chimed from the kitchen counter, hastily turned back on before his run. He ignored it, letting the ring tone become background noise.

Fabio sometimes hated his former self, the one who made plans whilst he was feeling extroverted. His friends and he had booked a weekend off ages ago, with the idea of going somewhere hot and sunny, with a boat, good food and alcohol. It was meant to be a relaxing mini break, some time to just be themselves. But now Fabio was stuck between a rock and a hard place - everyone would be able to read between the lines, know that Fabio was completely and utterly head over heels for Tony, who would also be there.

In summary, he was entirely fucked.

There was a knock on his door, just after his workout, before he could even get out of his sweaty clothes. Fabio sighed, wishing that he could just have a morning off to mope, but alas. He opened it, revealing Tom on the other side, his face stern. It turned out that there was no escaping this. Sometimes, he really wished that Tom were less efficient.

When they finally met up with the others, Fabio tried everything in his power to act normally, pulling Tony into a bro hug and ignoring the pounding of his pulse. It was easier with the others there, less chance for Fabio to overthink everything he did, so long as he ignored their unsubtle glances. The journey was fine, with most people's attention fixated on either navigation or planning, Fabio managed to zone out and listen to music the entire way there. They had booked out a villa, which was both a blessing and a curse. It meant sharing space with the boys for longer, but also saved the hassle of hotels and Cannes had nice places on Fabio's budget. He disappeared straight to his room when they arrived, feigning tiredness despite the restlessness in his entire body, skipping dinner altogether.

They left early enough the next morning to forgo talking. It wasn't until they settled onto the boat and left the harbour, towels already spread on the deck and jet ski in tow, that Fabio had to consciously worry. He stuck close to Tom, soaking in the sun and lazily keeping track of the threads of conversation, effectively avoiding Tony. It was all going okay, really, until Tony decided to take his shirt off. Suddenly, Fabio was powerless, unable to look away from the miles of tanned skin and muscles it had revealed. His arms were thick, corded with more muscle than Fabio remembered, strong biceps and smooth pecs swelling in all the right ways. In a twisted turn of events, Fabio was delirious with sudden desire, a heat building in his stomach, thoughts of being under Tony, those arms wrapped around him, chest to chest, filling his mind. He licked his lips, tore his gaze away, disgusted with himself. He tried not to make it too transparent, the way he flicked his eyes over every so often, evaluating whether it was him or Tony who had changed. Surely, his body didn't just decide overnight that he was sexually attracted to the younger man. Sure, Fabio always thought that he was attractive, but he wondered whether he had always been so obviously fixated on Tony.

He really should have stayed at home, told everyone that he was too sick to come.

(Tom probably would have dragged him out of the house himself.)

"-Fabio"

He jerked forward, eyes drawn back to the conversation, smiling sheepishly as a blush spread over his cheeks. He had lost the train of dialogue the minute a certain someone had decided to strip. His friends laughed at him, assuming it was just Fabio being himself, ADHD tendencies and all that. He shrugged, as if to say, 'What did you expect?', his smile self-deprecating. Only Tom continued to stare when the discussion moved on, shooting him an inscrutable look - clearly Fabio wasn't fooling him. Tom had always known him too well.

Now there were two people Fabio had to avoid, with both Tony and Tom being dangerous territory, although for vastly different reasons. He couldn't be alone with Tony, lest he a) did something incredibly stupid or b) was asked a question which he couldn't answer and ended up in an incredibly awkward position. Tom was almost certainly going to lecture him about his love life, which Fabio also wasn't too keen on.

God truly was unfair sometimes. Putting him in a one-sided love affair with a sport that hated him, made him fall for one of his best friends, and made another best friend the biggest worrier of all time.

Typical.

A stroke of luck meant that Fabio made it a whole two hours before Tom cornered him. Those hours were full of blissful peace and laughter, over too soon. He was lying on a deck chair, eyes shut, soaking up the sun and trying desperately hard not to think. He didn't see the others move across the boat, leaving him alone, perfect for ambushing.

There was a weight on the side of the sun bed. Fabio blinked his eyes open only to squeeze them shut again when he realised it was Tom who was looking down at him expectantly, his gaze burning.

"Fabio", he began.

"No, go away. I'm tired." Fabio whined.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on with Tony?"

"No."

"Oh, so there is something", Tom badgered, clearly not content with Fabio's want for privacy.

"...no"

"Is this about that podcast?"

Tom raised his eyebrows. Fabio glared.

"No."

"Is there anything else you can say?" Tom asked, long-suffering.

Fabio smirked. Well, Tom just walked into that one.

"Yes", he mocked.

Tom groaned.

"When did you realise?"

"Realise what?" Fabio questioned.

"That you were in love with him, you idiot"

Fabio stopped, stared, squinting at Tim's serious face, the sun haloing around him. Okay, so not joking. Great, did everyone know?

Fabio chucked, humourless.

"Eh, probably the podcast. Around." He answered.

"Jesus fuck Fabio, only then?"

"Ey, shut up. I thought it was a weird crush, a very deep friendship, no?"

"Yeah, but we have a very deep friendship, and you've never felt like this for me!" Tom snapped, tone somewhere between disbelief and annoyance.

Fabio coughed awkwardly and looked away. He could feel his cheeks heat as the silence stretched on.

"Oh my god. Merde. Fabio..."

"Nope, we are not talking about it. Please, Tom", Fabio begged, beyond mortified. This was humiliating enough already, just considering the whole Tony thing.

"You know he likes you, too, right? You two are idiots. It's so stupid." Tom bemoaned.

"He clearly doesn't, or he would have said something."

Tom sighed.

"Maybe he's waiting for you to make a move."

"He keeps dating random girls, so I don't think so. It's not my fault that he isn't interested. Why don't you talk to him instead?"

"Fabio. Bro, come on. You are so not serious about this. You go on that show and spend so long talking about Tony that they have to give it its own titled section, and you still won't do anything. This is ridiculous," he grumbled.

Fabio looked away. Flushed

"What do you want me to say. I didn't know," he whispered, inaudible. He didn't want to talk about this anymore.

"Chéri, stop mumbling." Tom requested, the sweet pet name slipping out, an age-old habit. It did nothing to temper the upset bubbling within Fabio.

"I didn't fucking know okay? I thought it was some kind of weird attraction or jealousy. Maybe a little crush. I didn't realise it was love until after. I mean, I didn't even realise how obvious I've been. Not until it was spelt out for me. On record, I may add. And now everything is fucked and I don't know how to act and everyone knows. And I'm panicking. Fuck, what am I meant to do"

The air deserted his lungs, his breath catching on the way out, making an awful squeaking whimper in the back of his throat as he shuddered through an inhale. He felt like he was burning up from the inside, the walls crushing inwards as he tried to gasp for oxygen for his lungs, which felt like they were collapsing. His vision fogged, blurred, whether by tears or because he felt like he was dying, he didn't know. The overwhelming feeling of dread sat like stone in his stomach, rising anxiety clawing at him.

"Okay. Okay. Fabio, it's okay. Take some deep breaths for me, ok?" Tom soothed, an edge of panic cracking his syllables.

Fabio went through the motions, coached by Tom, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise. We can work this out, yes. Just treat him as normal. It hasn't actually changed. You've just realised. We all love you the same, ok?"

Fabio nodded, finally able to gasp through a breath, and another. He stared up at Tom with wide eyes, accepted the bottle of water handed to him.

"You coming to grab some food, the others will be out soon?"

Fabio hummed, his stomach churning. He looked away, guilty.

"Maybe in a bit", he said.

Tom smiled gently, patting his cheek, allowing Fabio to lean into it. There was evident concern in his eyes; Fabio overlooked it.

"You need to eat, yes? Promise me?" Tom implored.

"Okay"

Tom smiled, stood up. As he turned to walk away, he looked back at Fabio and called out.

"Make sure to top up your sunscreen or you'll burn."

Fabio hummed; Tom always had been the mum friend, which was why he made a good manager, as annoying as it could be. But he was right, the boys re-emerged a few minutes later with plates of food and beers, and Fabio's stomach rumbled. He closed his eyes, rolled onto his front and considered taking a nap. The warning went unheeded.

His eyelids were beginning to droop when the deck chair unexpectedly shifted again. Someone is sitting down. A finger prodded his cheek, once, twice. He tried to ignore them, but they were persistent, annoyingly so.

"Fuck off, Tom"

A huff. Fabio peeled his eyes open to glare, only to find himself face to face with Tony, not Tom. His heart somersaulted in his chest, and the heat of the sun seemed to ricochet up.

"Fabiooooo", Tony sang, clearly a few beers in.

Great.

Despite himself, Fabio smiled, amused by his friend's antics, his pulse beating double time.

"Can you help me with my sunscreen, please?"

Fabio gulped, glanced between the bottle Tony had produced and the younger man, trying not to fixate on the sculpted abs, his sculpted pectorals, or the 'v' of his stomach with the trail of hair which led into his shorts.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" he asked, just this side of whiny.

Tony stared at him like he'd said something odd, perhaps he had, Fabio thought. It was making him feel weird, shifted slightly.

"Eh, I cannot reach my back"

Fabio considered his options. He couldn't say no without making it weird, and couldn't really say yes without going through hell and potentially still making it weird in the process.

It wasn't like he had much choice.

He sighed theatrically and gestured at Tony to turn around. At least he didn't have to look at his pretty face whilst doing it.

He squirted a dollop of sun cream on his hands, placed it carefully onto the warm, smooth skin of Tony's back, trying not to stare, for his hands to linger.

Fabio bit his lip and began to spread the scream evenly across the younger man's back. He focused on making sure to get all the areas which were usually missed, rather than thinking about who was underneath his hands. Tony's muscles shifted under his fingers, and Fabio traced the ridges of them, eyes glued to the way the rippled, pure, compact power.

He dug his fingers into the deep muscle of Tony's shoulder, accidentally putting more pressure through each digit than he meant to. It made Tony shift, whisper-quiet noises falling from his mouth, a bitten-off moan when Fabio grazed the planes between his shoulder and neck.

"Fuck, you're good at that eh?" He said, looking over his shoulder.

Fabio's cheeks flamed red as he shifted his shorts ever so slightly, trying to ignore his growing interest in the situation. Tony leaned back into his hands.

When his shoulders were completely covered, Fabio reapplied the cream, trailed his hands down his back and sides, trying not to linger, torn between two minds, he wanted to draw it out, but the quicker it was over, the better.

He swiped a hand lower, over Tony's lower back dimples, mouth watering we he pressed a thumb into the divot. Tony exhaled loudly. There was an elastic pull of tension between them, now crackling in the air, a second before lightning strikes. Fabio gulped, gave in to temptation, let his hands stray to the waistband of Tony's shorts, briefly dipping under, running across the hot skin there.

Tony stiffened, stuttered a breath. Fabio withdrew his hands quickly, squeezed his eyes shut.

"Okay, you're done", he said, voice hoarse, too low.

Tony cleared his throat, painfully awkward. It was like a moment had been broken, the tension snapping. Fabio's pulse was pounding against his temples, his hands frozen.

"Thank you. Let me get yours, yes?" Tony asked, eyes turning back to Fabio, something in his voice. Tom's words echoed in his head, 'He likes you too'

Fabio halted, considering. He could test the theory, let Tony touch him, revel in the feeling of strong hands on his body. He could let his head fall back, groan quietly when Tony palmed his neck, always so sensitive. But the risk was too great.

"No, no, I'm okay." He muttered, pulling away from Tony's body heat, the sweat forming small streams down the side of his neck. He looked away.

"Eh, Tom said you needed a top up", Tony argued, eyes wide.

"Yes, well. Tom is lying and he is not my mother", Fabio snapped..

Tony held both hands up in surrender, shooting Fabio an odd look, confused, bordering on hurt, before he finally retreated.

Fabio closed his eyes, exhaled, already regretting his anger. He just needed a second to get over it, to enjoy the last few moments of peace before he knew the boys would harass him into food, jet skiing, and generally being childish. He tried to soothe over the hurt, the aching wound of his heart, too raw and vulnerable, and prayed he could get it together in less than five minutes.

For a moment, he allowed himself to remember the feeling of Tony's firm muscles under his hands, his lingering warmth. The sounds he made were burned into Fabio's brain - a small allowance, one he would probably regret. He desperately tried to ignore the feelings which accompanied the pure desire in his belly, swallowed them down until he felt sick to the stomach. Fabio sighed, practiced a false smile before he stood up, readying himself to join the others, stupid heartache be damned.

By the end of the day, he had consumed enough beers to briefly forget the muddle of feelings inside him. Drunk enough to shrug off the veil of embarrassment and spend the day bent in two. Laughing so hard his stomach cramped. He ignored the worried looks from Tom, the curious glances from Tony, and tried to enjoy the time he had before he felt like his world was collapsing again.

It turned out that forgoing sun cream was a mistake. One which became more evident when he stripped off in the bathroom to shower, only to hiss through his teeth at the soreness of his back, red and sensitive under the spray of water. Fabio wrenched the temperature control down to cold, forcing himself under until he was shivering.

He winced at every rub of the towel against his skin, skin oversensitive and hot. There was a knock on his door as Fabio pulled on his boxers. Fabio shifted, hissed at the discomfort from his pulling skin, two sizes too small.

He debated for a second. It would be Tom, no doubt. He didn't really want to talk, but Tom was the most persistent bastard he knew. It had been kind of awkward over dinner, and he really just wanted to go to bed. He knew they would have to discuss this at some point.

"It's open", he called, expectantly trudging over to his bed, flopping down on his stomach, not turning to greet Tom as the door squeaked on its hinges. Fabio had claimed the room furthest away from the others on purpose, more privacy, less chance of people disturbing his moping.

Tom walked in, inhaled sharply. Fabio glanced over his shoulder. Oh, he thought. Not Tom. Tony.

He suddenly became very conscious of the fact that he was clad only in his underwear.

"That's some burn you've got there", he said, approaching slowly, cautious as if Fabio was a wild animal. He moved so he was sitting, watching Tony come closer, a bottle of something clutched in his hands. Fabio hummed in agreement, eyes flicking over Tony's face, his body, unsure where to settle.

"Did you put sun cream on?" Tony asked. Fabio shifted, guilty.

"No"

"You fucking idiot. What's gotten into you? You've been weird all day, this whole trip actually."

There was frustration in his voice, a frown on his face.

"Nothing," Fabio replied, tearing his gaze away.

"Don't lie to me", Tony said. When he was less than a foot away, he knelt in front of Fabio, tapped his cheek. Fabio ignored it, looking down, so Tony grabbed his chin, tilted it up so they could make eye contact. Fabio averted his eyes, tried to escape the grasp. Tony sighed, releasing his chin.

Fabio fell backwards against the bed as he scrambled away, trying to put some distance between them so he could breathe. He bit his lips and winced, hard, as the sheet scratched his back.

He received a raised brow for his efforts, bafflement etched onto the younger man's feature features. Fabio held eye contact for a beat, shifting his legs restlessly. Tony observed him quietly, a steely resolve settled in his eyes, something which rang alarm bells for Fabio. Tony huffed a laugh, clearly something showed on his face. He tapped Fabio's calf.

"Come in, on your front. I have some aloe, it'll help. The burn isn't too bad... well, it won't need any more treatment than this. You are lucky. And if it still hurts, I will kiss it better." Tony said.

To Fabio's mortification, he rolled straight over at the command, barely parsing Tony's words until after, a red flush forming on his cheeks at his friend's joke. It felt almost cruel, all things considered, although Tony didn't know.

"Good", Tony muttered. Fabio barely had time to consider that, the way Tony's voice was husky, and the praise made his heart thump, before there were firm hands on his back. The coolness of aloe vera spread across his shoulders was in direct contrast to the warmth of Tony's hands, the trail of heat he left behind. Fabio snapped his eyes shut at the onslaught of sensations, bit down a whimper.

Tony was careful, meticulous. He slathered on layers of gel, digging his fingers in just right, but always gentle, oh so gentle so as to not hurt Fabio. He was putty in Tony's hands, melting into the mattress with the touch, unable to prevent the way his mind fogged.

He let out a soft moan as Tony ran a hand up the back of his neck, the other on his lower back. Fabio shoved his face into the pillows, felt the way it glowed pink in embarrassment. Even so, he let Tony keep going, kept his eyes closed and tried desperately hard not to shift his hips into the mattress. Fabio lost track of time, only roused at the loss of warm hands on his body. He whined, delirious, and clamped his mouth shut again, mortified.

Tony placed a delicate kiss on his spine, another on his shoulder. Fabio shivered, his brain stuttering to a halt.

"There we go, all better," Tony murmured, his voice gravelly.

"You did so well for me."

Fabio muffled his answering gasp into the pillow, his hips twitching of their own accord.

"Fuck"

Tony moved before Fabio could think, and then strong hands were flipping him over, careful with his back, and pulling him into a sitting position. The younger man crowded against him, almost in his lap, knees bracketing Fabio's thighs. God, Fabio thought, he was so hot. He licked his lips on impulse, relishing in the way Tony's eyes tracked the movement, addicted to the rush of desire, how it prickled his skin.

The first press of their lips together was gentle, loving. Fabio froze for a beat, his heart racing, and all he could think was 'finally', 'finally'. Then, his brain clicked into gear, the sudden feelings rushing in like a tidal wave. He pushed into the kiss, trying to get as close as possible, allowing Tony to lick into his mouth when he gasped. Fabio didn't think he would ever be the same, not now that he knew the little panting noises that Tony made, the way his biceps flexed when he took off his t-shirt.

Fabio moaned when Tony broke off, focusing his attention on Fabio's neck, biting marks into his skin, and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He let his head fall backwards, gasping up at the ceiling as Tony continued, somehow knowing all of the things to make Fabio crazy, the spot behind his ear, how he licked across his collarbone, biting just this side of too hard. Fabio threaded his hands into Tony's hair, brought their lips together again. Every second that passed felt like a dream as he sank into his friend's grasp, revelling in the way they fit together, how Tony kissed like he never wanted to breathe again. God, Fabio was screwed.

They broke apart, both panting. Tony rested his forehead against Fabio's.

"You're such an idiot", he said.

"Hey!" Fabio scowled, way to ruin the moment.

"How did you not know that I liked you?"

Fabio frowned, confused.

"You didn't really make it obvious?"

'Fabio, I've been obsessed with you for years", Tony admitted, his tone amused, but honest.

"But the girlfriends..." Fabio countered.

"Nothing. None of them mattered. I flirted with you loads, I thought maybe you liked me back, but you never responded when I made a move, so I assumed you weren't interested. That it was a game to you."

"A game? What. No!"

"When did you realise?" Tony asked

"That I liked you?"

Tony laughed, shook his head.

"No, when did you figure out that I liked you?"

"Um, approximately two minutes ago", Fabio admitted.

Tony gaped.

"Okay, wow. And when did you work out that you liked me?" he questioned.

"Ah, Mig... The podcast"

"Of course"

Tony looked entertained, if slightly baffled. Fabio blushed, looked away in embarrassment. He wasn't sure what for, whether it was the amount of time it took for him to work out his feelings or just the foreign admittance of his emotions.

"No, no. It is cute. I am glad, No? Now I can do this," Tony said, before kissing Fabio again, brief and sweet. He pulled away, pressed small kisses to his cheeks, forehead, and nose until Fabio was giggling underneath him.

Tony kissed him properly then, firm and consuming, nipping Fabio's lower lip playfully as he drew back. It made something tingle in his lower belly, somewhere between affection and lust. God, he wanted this man so badly.

"Stay?" He whispered, their lips still brushing together.

Tony smiled, gently, pressed one more kiss to Fabio's cheek and replied.

"Of course, amore"

He silenced Fabio's answering giggle with his lips, playfully pushing him back against the headboard, fully seating himself in Fabio's lap and touching everywhere his hands could reach until Fabio forgot all of his troubles, thoughts consumed instead by the man in front of him.

The sun was bright when Fabio woke up the next morning. There was the foreign heat of another body curled around him. Tony, his head tucked into Fabio's neck, lips ghosting his skin in a way that made Fabio shiver on each exhale. The memories of last night came flooding back. Body heat, the soft sheets between them, the hazy head space he always got to when a partner knew how to look after him. The thought made his hips twitch in anticipation as he remembered how Tony easily pinned him down, both of Fabio's wrists encircled by one of Tony's hands, the other on his hip.

The room still smelled like sex.

He inhaled, tried to forget the fact that he now knew Tony was a talker in bed, constantly telling Fabio how well he was doing, how pretty he looked and telling him what to do. Fabio was officially ruined for anyone else; he would be unable to get into bed with another again without thinking about how Tony seemed to implicitly know everything Fabio wanted, the fine line between dominating and caring, being gentle but firm enough that Fabio could take a back seat.

He sighed, leant back against the Italian, tried not the disturb his sleep.

"Tesoro, stay still for just a second. It is too early," Tony groaned, his voice hoarse with sleep, deeper than usual. Fabio truly was ruined. He shifted again, restless, and pushed his ass into Tony's crotch, enjoying the little sound the younger man made in response.

"Sorry", Fabio whispered.

"No, you're not. Fucking tease." Tony mumbled.

Fabio hummed in agreement, rolled over so he could face Tony.

"You think we can go another round without anyone realising?" he asked, coquettish and coy as he batted his eyelashes at the other man.

Tony chuckled, but his eyes were dark.

They were late for breakfast.

They walked into the kitchen one after another; the others already sat at the table, Tom at the coffee machine, fiddling with the buttons. Fabio knew they weren't subtle, but couldn't bring himself to care, not when they all kind of knew anyway. He was well aware of the ring of bite marks encircling his throat, as well as scattered across his collarbones and chest. It turned out that Tony was quite possessive; Fabio didn't mind, had delighted in pressing his fingers to the bruises in the bathroom mirror earlier.

Tom noticed first, his eyes widening before his face did something complicated, torn between relief and disgust, settling on something like amusement. He fist bumped Tony on his way by, pulled Fabio into a hug, grimacing at the state of his neck.

"Fucking finally", he said, releasing Fabio from his arms and knocking their shoulders together as he turned back to the stubborn appliance.

Fabio blushed, smiled gently at Tony as the Italian leaned over from where he was grabbing two plates to brush a kiss to his lips.

Yep, Fabio thought, definitely ruined for anyone else.

#rpf summer camp #tony arbolino #fabio quartararo #tabio #???#what is their ship #tony/fabio #motogp #motogp rpf #tom maubant #love you guys #so much #hope you read this far to read that!

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