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Sebastian’s soulmark appears two days before his second birthday. He doesn’t remember the lines curving around, burning into the pale, smooth skin of his hipbone. His mother’s eyes widen as she spots the new mark when she’s changing Sebastian later that morning. The Australian flag is bright blue against the pale skin of Sebastian’s hip. Sebastian just giggles in his mother’s arms, not knowing that a few timezones away, his soulmate has just been born, crying in his own mother’s arms.
Sebastian catches himself looking down at the soulmark when he’s younger, when he’s intrigued by the splash of colour over his hip. It’s blue and red and white, he lets his fingers ghost over the bright colours. He asks his mama what it means, why he can’t wash it off in the bath, why it’s even there in the first place – his mama and papa don’t have similar marks in the same place; his mama has a small hammer on her wrist. He’s never seen his papas.
“What is this, Mama?” He asks one day, pulling up his t-shirt and pointing to the mark, still as bright blue as he remembers.
“It’s your soulmark, baby.” His mother says. “When you’re older, you’ll meet somebody special. The soul mark points you in the right direction…it usually is something your special person likes or is part of who they are.”
“So my special person likes the colour blue?” Sebastian cocks his head.
“No, it’s a flag, darling. It’s the flag of a country called Australia.”
“Australia.” Sebastian repeats, frown appearing on his face. “Is my special person is Australia?”
His mother chuckles, her fingers ghost over the mark before she tucks his t-shirt back into his shorts. “No, darling, your special person might be from Australia.”
“Let’s go to Australia!” Sebastian declares.
His mama laughs and shakes her head. “We can’t go to Australia. Dinner is almost ready.”
Sebastian pouts at her. “Why can’t we go? I need to find my special person now!” He whines, stamping his foot.
“Sebastian Vettel, you stop sulking now.” His mama bends down, grasping his hand gently. She presses a kiss to it. “You’ll find your special person someday.”
“I hope so.” Sebastian says, his bottom lip still wobbling.
Daniel Ricciardo is born with the number four on his chest, just over his heart. His parents gaze at the strange number on their son’s tanned skin.
Dan grows up, the number four constantly on his mind, he likes to run his fingers over it, he’s asked his mummy what it means. She said it was his mark for a special person, but she wasn’t sure why it was a four. Dan likes the number four, his special person likes the number four, so he does too. He wonders what his special person is like, he wonders if they have golden hair, if it’s dark like his own, if they like Spiderman and cars like he does. He wonders if they kart like he does, what colour their eyes are, if thy give good hugs. His fingers brush over the 4. After his own name, it’s the first number he learns to write. It’s the number he picks for his first kart, he smiles, his fingers brushing against the bright yellow four on the nose of his blue kart. He wins the race, he feels his fingers brush over his soulmark. He tries to imagine his special person standing at the side, cheering him on. He wonders if they have a four in the same place, since it’s his favourite number. His daddy cuddles him closely, Dan stares back at the kart with the four emblazoned across it.
“My four is lucky.” He declares.
His parents exchange knowing glances.
The bright blue Australian flag is eventually forgotten by Sebastian as he goes through puberty. He doesn’t get excited about it anymore, it’s just a mark on his hip. It annoys him sometimes, the bright blue is a little garish. He rubs it aggressively with his towel, as though the mark will disappear. He focuses on his karting, sometimes his mark tingles underneath his fireproofs, sometimes it pokes out when he changes into his Toro Rosso overalls.
He meets Dan when he’s nineteen, Dan is seventeen, all wild hair and long, lanky limbs. His smile is crooked when he presses his hand into Sebastian’s. His accent is Australian, Sebastian’s heart stops for a moment. He feels something dance over his hipbone, he’s not sure what it is – he brushes it off as adrenaline from the race ahead. He scratches at his hipbone, brown eyes lock on blue.
“I’m Daniel Ricciardo.”
“Sebastian Vettel. You race well.”
Dan blushes, he glances down at the floor, his foot rubbing itself into the gravel. They talk of different things that day; college subjects, their racing lines, their favourite bands. Sebastian feels a sense of familiarity wash over him. Dan doesn’t brush his hand again, Sebastian feels a little empty – he puts it down to the race, the build up to it. His heart feels like it’s racing. He keeps catching the Australian twang to Daniel’s accent, the way he pronounces Sebastian’s name and he wonders. That night he returns to his motorhome, he finds himself glancing at his soulmark a little more carefully. The Australian flag remains on his hip, it looks the same, still bright blue against the skin.
Dan lets his fingers flicker over the number four; it had grown warm today when he met the German boy, Sebastian. Dan had heard a lot about him around the karting circuit. Sebastian was warm and friendly, with a shock of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. However, his kart number was five, not four. Dan felt his heart sink as he glanced over at the number emblazoned on Sebastian’s kart. He was so sure that Sebastian was his special person – his soulmate. He stands in his motorhome, his tanned fingers dance over the black lines of the number four.
“Where are you?” He whispers as he traces the lines.
They don’t see each other as much after that; Sebastian focuses on his karting, his mark doesn’t tingle ever again, he interacts with a fair few Australians – his heart stops for a moment everytime the familiar accent curls through the air, but nothing happens. Sebastian ends up at Toro Rosso. The soulmark is forgotten whilst he races, sometimes his fingers brush over it when he’s taking off his fireproofs, when he’s drying himself after the shower. He doesn’t even think about it sometimes, it’s just there – it’s just a part of him, a part of him he’s not willing to explore just yet.
Dan works his way through the lower levels, sometimes he’ll catch a glimpse of Sebastian in the papers – the number five still emblazoned on his kart. He lets his fingers dance over his soulmarks – he’s met a few drivers with his number on their karts but his soulmate remains cold and unresponsive. He hates it sometimes – he wishes he could have a simpler soulmark.
Sebastian feels the dread fill his chest when Christian sits him down and explains to him that they’re promoting him to the senior team. Mark Webber, his new teammate, Australian, is all he can think about as Christian explains everything to him. He feels the nausea rise up inside him; he gets worse on the day they’re introduced to one another. Sebastian pulls at his Red Bull overalls, they’re tight and warm, he brushes a hand through his blonde hair, biting his lip. Mark is charming, all wide smiles, all dark air, stubble, tanned skin.
“Hello, I’m Mark.” He grins, Sebastian feels his heart jump at the accent.
“Sebastian. Nice to meet you.”
Their hands connect, nothing happens. Sebastian almost feels disappointed. Mark smiles back at him, his dark eyes watching.
Mark’s soulmark is an ornate S on his back. Sebastian spots it one day when he walks into the garage; Mark is shirtless, his tanned back facing Sebastian. Sebastian’s eyes fall on the S, his mouth goes dry. He ends up pushing Mark against the wall, their lips connect together. Mark moans against Sebastian’s lips, his hand fists into Sebastian’s overalls, the other brushing over his blonde hair. Sebastian still doesn’t feel anything in his hipbone; it feels cold, but there’s a certain thrill – a warmth against his chest.
He keeps kissing Mark, his fingers clutch at Mark’s hair, pulling sighs from the Australian’s lips. His fingers brush over the ornate S, he wonders if Mark can feel anything. Mark doesn’t respond, he just continues kissing the blonde, his lips move to brush against Sebastian’s neck. Sebastian gasps out.
They continue their dance through the first three seasons together; brushing lips in the Red Bull garage, at first they’re rather sweet – Sebastian cries out when Mark’s beard rubs over his sensitive skin, when Mark takes him for the first time, against the wall of tyres. Sebastian leaves marks on his back, fingernail scratches against the tanned skin, he comes when Mark whispers in his ear, his husky Australian accent rolls over Sebastian, his fingers run over the mark. His eyes seem to glitter.
They continue to kiss, fuck their way through the season; Mark gets rougher, the more successful Sebastian becomes. He fucks him hard when Sebastian becomes World Champion for the first time. The trophy glitters out of the corner of Sebastian’s eye as Mark thrusts into him, he cries out Mark’s name, Mark grits his teeth as he comes inside Sebastian; collapsing on top of him. Sebastian pants against him, his fingers dance over the S.
However, after the second title, Mark becomes cold, his eyes are darker, he’s rougher with Sebastian. He doesn’t kiss his lips anymore. They still fuck – but it seems more like a formality, Mark doesn’t look at him as he presses himself inside, he doesn’t smile the same when Sebastian calls out his name.
Sebastian sits in his garage, glancing over his data readouts. He hears a familiar laugh. Mark stands in the entrance of the garage, there’s a familiar face with him, one that Sebastian has seen out and about. Dan has grown up a little; he’s still long, lanky limbs, slight muscle, baby fat still clinging to his cheeks. He’s grinning widely at something Mark is saying, his teeth covered in shiny silver – braces – Sebastian watches the pair interact, how Mark leans into Dan, his smile wide. He feels a frown dance over his face, something curls in his chest, he feels his soulmark sting. He wonders if he’s imagining it.
He begins talking to Dan again, the young Australian is easy to talk to, he talks animatedly. Sometimes Sebastian finds himself spending more and more time in the Toro Rosso garage, his eyes locking with brown, fingers brushing over tanned skin. Dan just smiles back, continues talking.
Sebastian eventually presses him up against the wall at Canada, Dan looks down at him, his eyes fearful. Sebastian smiles back at him, their lips brush against each other. Sebastian slides his leg in between Dan’s thighs, his hands fisting in Dan’s overalls, over the Red Bull logo. Dan whines against his lips, Sebastian’s tongue ends up inside his mouth, tracing every corner. His fingers end up in Dan’s curls, tugging on the dark hair. Sebastian runs his tongue over Dan’s teeth, wincing as he remembers the braces on the younger driver’s teeth. Dan blushes, looking away.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, your braces are sexy. “ Sebastian whispers, moving his head back, brushing their lips together.
They continue through the season. Mark doesn’t come near Sebastian anymore. Sebastian finds himself not caring, he’s got Dan in his life, the man seems to shine brightly. Sebastian feels like he’s been burned every time he glances at Dan – he wonders if he has a soulmark and what it is. Sebastian wins his second title, his third title – he presses Dan into the sheets instead of Mark, Dan’s brown eyes are wide and fearful. Sebastian’s fingers drag over his body, his eyes gentle. Dan admitted he was a virgin about three months ago.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Dan whispers.
Sebastian presses himself inside Dan as slowly as he can. Dan cries out in pain, his fingernails scramble at the sheets, his lip caught on his teeth. Sebastian presses kisses to his skin, eases himself in and out slowly. Eventually, Dan falls apart underneath him, his feet twisting in the sheets, the pain giving way to pleasure. Sebastian gives Dan his first orgasm, makes him come underneath him, leaves him a boneless, shaking mess of sweaty curls and wide eyes.
His eyes fall on the number four emblazoned on the tanned chest and cocks his head. He doesn’t let himself touch it until Dan is asleep. His fingers ghost over the black lines, over the number four. He doesn’t have any connection with number four – but he finds himself wishing he did.
Sebastian is the one who realises. It hits him when he holds aloft his fourth title – four – it all makes sense now, the random number on his boyfriend’s chest, the number that he has traced with his fingers many times. Dan is on him the second the cameras are switched off, pressing a desperate kiss to his lips. His fingers tangle in Sebastian’s Red Bull overalls, in his sweaty hair. Sebastian holds his tongue, he doesn’t want to tell Dan in the heat of the moment. He kisses Dan back, feels the warmth brush over his chest, his soulmark seems to burn, almost as though it is celebrating.
“I have something to show you.” Sebastian whispers, he pulls down his overalls, showing off the small Australian flag. Dan glances up at him with wide eyes.
“It’s an Australian flag.” Dan whispers, biting his lip.
“It’s you.” Sebastian replies, unable to keep the smile off his face.
However, Dan doesn’t smile back, he scrambles off the bed, his eyes wide, his mouth open. “No, no, you can’t be, it can’t be you. There must be a mistake, you’re a Champion, I’m nobody-“
Sebastian glances into brown eyes. “There’s no mistake, Daniel. It’s you.”
“But number four, I have a number four-“ Dan pulls down his t-shirt to show off his number four, dark in the dim light. “You’re not-“
“Four, Daniel. Four of those-“ Sebastian glances at his trophy.
Dan’s eyes widen in realisation. “It was you, the whole time. You were here the whole time.”
“I was.” Sebastian whispers. His hand ghosts over Dan’s cheeks. Dan pulls him closer and presses their lips together. Sebastian’s hand falls over the number four, Dan’s on Sebastian’s hipbone. They smile against each other’s lips. Fireworks light up the sky.