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Holy shit.
He’s on the podium. After so many weeks of struggling, spinning, people running into him…Robert finally made it back on the podium. He climbs out of his car after thanking his team through the radio, unable to contain the smile on his face.
The second he’s done with post race necessities he jumps into the arms of his waiting team, screaming and laughing with them. Time passes as a blur, one moment he’s being hugged by mechanics and the next he’s sitting in a cool down room, realising how fast he’s breathing.
He’s brought back to himself with a nudge on his ribs, snapping his head to the side he sees Mark handing him a towel with a wink. He smiles, remembering there is a camera filming his every reaction, trying to find some inexistent drama within the grid, so he stops himself from smiling too hard. No one blushes and giggles when another man hands them a towel.
He hides his faint blush with said item, pretending he’s wiping the sweat off his face as he wills his cheeks to calm down.
Soon after, his name is called and he runs out, jumping on the third step of the podium. It would’ve been nice to win, to bring home a beautiful trophy and a golden medal. His thoughts are immediately discarded when Mark’s name echoes through the microphone, turning his head to watch as the older man walks out waving to the crowd.
The air is knocked out of his lungs, Mark’s face is seemingly shining with happiness. His eyes are sparkling when he jumps on the top step, smiling at everyone around him. Robert is stuck in awe, unable to look anywhere else. He's so beautiful up there, like he belongs on this step.
When he rises his trophy in the air, he’s looking straight at the man next to him, watching him smile with his teeth, happiness overflowing. He almost feels like he hallucinated Mark turning to nod at him, a silent congratulations.
When the Australian man gets his own trophy he delivers a scream, raising it up in the air after kissing it, eyes closing as he does so. If eyes could sparkle, Robert’s would probably hurt from how mesmerised he is.
He’s always felt something for the other, his natural flirty personality sending butterflies through his own. Unable to hide the sheepish smile and soft blush whenever someone brings up Mark’s name around him. The aching need to say hello whenever there’s a driver’s parade, leaning against the railing as close as possible, pretending he just wants to be better friends.
He feels his eyes go wide when he pops his champagne bottle and Mark turns to him, mouth wide open and eyes shut close, waiting. He swallows, his throat feeling like sandpaper as he aims for Mark’s face with his bottle. He only snaps out of his trance when he feels the sting of champagne in his eyes, instincts telling him to run off.
The music is loud, the cheers are even louder, yet Robert can only hear the sound of his own heartbeat. He doesn’t even know who came second.
Throughout the rest of the night, running back down to rejoin his team, feeling even more champagne slip through his fireproofs and even more hands tugging him left and right to embrace him in warm hugs, the image of Mark on the podium comes back to him whenever he closes his eyes.
He wishes he could do something about it. Run up to him and confess his feelings, walking into the paddock the next day holding hands. He knows he can’t, this sport isn’t accepting enough. He would be forced to retire, forced to hide.
All he can do is observe, watch from afar as the man of his dreams kisses every girl that comes up to him. He’s gotten pretty good at faking his laughter when Mark tells him about his crazy hookups. If he downs his drink in one go straight after, that’s his business.
He sighs. Finally in the comfort of his own box, packing his bag, eager to get back to his hotel. The team agreed to meet up in a few hours to have a much needed celebration. He feels his breathing even out as he folds his clothes into his bag, jumping when a knock sounds at the door.
He snaps his head to the side as it opens, a familiar face peeking through. That unmistakable smirk lacing his lips as he allows himself in, leaning against the door as he shuts it behind himself.
“Congrats on your podium mate!” Mark exclaims, breaking the silence Robert so desperately needed. He smiles and nods, turning back to his bag and moving stuff around to make more space. He doesn’t need space, what he needs is a reason to not stare at the other.
Standing there, leaning against the door. Wearing a form fitting Redbull shirt over some plain black jeans, a fairly simple outfit yet it makes him look a thousand times more attractive than a normal person. Not that he isn’t normal mind you, just hotter than average. Rob clears his throat, the awkward silence slowly making him uncomfortable. He can feel the burn of Mark’s eyes on his side, his face almost itches from it.
He hears Mark sigh, the sound followed by footsteps as Mark gets closer. A soft chuckle, “You know,” He starts. Robert feels the hair stand up on the back of his neck. “I could feel it.”
He frowns, “Feel it?” Mark hums.
“Even with my back turned to you, i could feel your eyes on me, staring.” Robert swallows, feeling a blush take over his features. He turns around, deciding to play pretend.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He adds a fake smirk, if Mark wants to play then he will. He’s not convinced his acting is good, still not fully recovered from his lovesick haze on the podium. Mark smirks back. Looking like the cat that's got the cream.
“Yeah, like that. Eyes right on me.” Robert’s breath hitches, suddenly unable to think properly. Mark’s voice had lowered, sounding dangerously hot. His eyes dart between Mark's, trying to find a hint that this indeed is a game. A hint that would tell him the other is joking.
In a sudden rush of instincts, he can’t stop himself from grabbing Mark by the collar and smashing their lips together, ignoring the yelp of surprise. His grip on the shirt turns his knuckles white, the kiss is no more than a harsh peck, his eyes shut tightly. He can’t believe he’s doing this, a sharp thrill sends shivers through his entire body.
Until suddenly, he realises. Realises what he’s doing, forcing himself onto Mark. Holding him back from running away, from pushing him away. He gasps, jumping back.
He hits the desk behind him with a groan, eyes wide open in shock. His hands are trembling. “Oh my— I’m so sorry, Mark. Please, please don’t be mad!” He pleads, unable to imagine a world where he can no longer speak to Mark.
He watches the unmoving Australian, blinking in shock. Robert brings a hand up to cover his lips, he can’t believe what he's done. Ruined everything he’s been working so hard to build. Even though he has a crush on the man he still values their friendship, more than anything.
“Mark…” Comes out, muffled by his own hand. He tries getting a reaction out of the other, to get him to move. To get him to do anything! Despite this, he takes a step back, hitting the desk again. Fearing that the other would run.
Mark looks at him, slowly moving forward. Robert can’t move anymore as a hand touches his own, bringing it away from his face. The hold doesn’t drop, Mark keeping his hand in his own as he smiles softly.
Robert flinches when his other hand moves to rest on his nape, pulling him forward slightly. “It’s okay.” Mark says, the eye contact never breaking as Mark takes another step forward.
Swallowing nervously, Robert allows Mark to guide him forward into a much softer kiss. Whimpering quietly when their lips touch once more, this time he’s able to concentrate on the way it feels. Soft lips touching his own, a warm hand holding his and another on his nape, the thumb rubbing soothing circles. As if Robert is an animal who needs soothing. In a way, he kind of feels like one.
When Mark starts moving his lips, deepening the kiss, Robert grabs him by the waist with his free hand. Finally allowing himself to get lost into it. It’s better than anything he’s ever imagined. When he pulls the older man forward he feels the way he smiles into the kiss, everything suddenly feeling very real.
He giggles. Fully giggles, with Mark’s smiling lips on his own, eyes still closed and hands still holding each other. When Mark starts giggling too, the kiss is broken. Both men blushing as they laugh within each other’s hold.
His blush is most definitely visible now but he can’t find it within himself to care when he opens his eyes and notices the soft pink covering Mark’s cheeks. The hand on his neck slides forward to hold his jaw, his thumb still softly moving, the gentle touch making Robert shiver, warmth spreading through his chest.
“Mark—” He’s cut off by the other shushing, shaking his head.
“How about you join me and my team at the bar, we celebrate our podium together. Maybe you can let me buy you a drink,” Mark winks before continuing, “And we can discuss your dream first date ideas.”
Robert smiles brightly, raising an eyebrow, “So you can take notes?” He questions with a teasing tone. Mark nods and chuckles, “Yeah sweetheart, so i can take notes.”
Robert nods, a permanent smile stuck on his face. He has to clear his throat to snap out of it when Mark leaves, delivering a kiss to his cheek before he does. A soft promise.
He forgets about his bag and walks out, needing to get back to his hotel room so he can find his best shirt and get himself ready for the party. Never in his life would he have believed that Mark Webber, out of everyone inn the paddock, would be gay. What's even more unbelievable is the fact that he likes him. Maybe nothing is ruined, maybe that kiss, that oh so perfect kiss, was a much needed push. One that might lead to the start of something new, something exciting. Something beautiful.
Somehow, Robert feels like he’s the one who won the race.