Work Text:
-o–o7
“Hey Cupe,” a voice says over Alice's shoulder. She pauses, turning around and lifting one ear of her noise canceling headphones up. She tilts her head in question.
The driver, a nice man by the name Valentine, already has his helmet perched on his hip and he waves at her, “Oh sorry, excuse me ma'am.”
“Hey, there's no Cupe working right now. Should I take a message?”
Valentine smiles at her, “No, no, Cupe is the car! I call her Cupid.”
Alice looks back to the car she had just been working on. It's the model bearing their newest, most advanced engine and it's decorated in a bright white, pink and red livery with hearts decorating the outer body. She tucks her headband further back with a small frown. Far be her from an expert, but she's worked her way up the formula ranks just like everyone else and she's never worked with a driver who named their car. She can't imagine most of them get very attached considering it's a new engine every year, and the dangerous nature of the sport means they often have to replace it almost entirely should there be a wreck of any substance.
“Well it matches the livery perfect, sir,” she says as she turns back.
The grin on Valentine's face widens until he's positively beaming, “Doesn't it just? I think the designers did absolutely bang on with pretty-ing her up this season. Not that they don't do so every year,” he tacks the last bit on as he looks toward the car, as if speaking to it directly.
“Er…right. Is there something I can do for you Mr. Valentine?”
“Oh no, no,” he steps back slightly and shrugs, “I just wanted to stop by while I have a moment. These practice days are nice for some quick visits. Keep her running well won't you, doc?”
Alice nods, a little confused, “‘Course, it's my job after all.”
“Thanks, was it…you're Alex right?”
“Alice,” she corrects.
“Alice! Yes my apologies, you do some real hard work Alice. We're lucky to have you on the team. See you around.”
-o–o7_
Sebastian is only slightly nervous. It's the first day of the first race weekend of his first official season as a Formula 1 employee, he feels maybe he's owed some nerves. For now, his job is simple, hand Mr. Valentine his steering wheel when he asks for it and then tuck tail and run out of the docking bay.
He stands off to the side as everyone rushes to complete their tasks around him. There's whirring sounds and clattering and the sound of many heavy boots hitting the cement. His headset earpiece is small, tucked a little uncomfortably against his skull but he lasers in on the voices coming out of it.
Mr. Valentine throws his legs over the rim of his car, sliding down into place and being buckled in. Another person tests the harness before nodding and calling out his cue.
Sebastian rushes forward and passes over the steering wheel. He remains on standby as the driver clicks it into place and he double checks it before also dipping back and out of the way. He takes a deep breath as he dodges a pit crew member and settles off to the sideline. He stays aware, wanting to be ready should he need to jump back in but thankfully it seems all their training and rehearsing has paid off. Everyone is doing their job painlessly, their unit functioning like a well oiled machine to prepare their drivers and cars for the race.
It's practice day, so he can only hope they keep the momentum rolling all weekend.
He watches as Mr. Valentine nods, likely talking into his own earpiece as their managers walk him through whatever it is they want him to do during today's run. As he talks, the driver rubs his fingers up and down the wheel in front of him. It's an absent motion, and he taps gently as he shakes his head.
Sebastian isn't sure why the movement catches his attention, most drivers get an adrenaline spike around now, and soothe themselves into focus by performing little rituals like this. He has his own rituals he does before every session, loose threads he picks at when he's antsy or the such. Though, there's something about the man in front of him that seems…intentional. Like Mr. Valentine is attempting to soothe the car itself as well as his own nerves.
People always told Sebastian he was a fantastical thinker, that he wouldn't work well in this career if he kept sticking his head in the clouds. He shakes out his hands, conspiring on his coworker’s habits is not what he’s trained all this time for.
-o–o7__
Kerstien Modig is the only female racer on the formula one circuit for the 202X season. She has worked for decades to get to this point, years and years of kart racing as a kid and even more years trekking up from formulas 4, 3, and 2. The entire way she’s been met with all kinds of remarkable stupidity, misogyny, and useless trainers. But it’s all been worth it, the tireless nights and heart wrenching failures because here she is, sitting in her car preparing for the first practice drive of the season. Take that you useless fucks!
She peers her head to the side, watching as her teammate Valentine gets out of his rig in the neighboring dock. He’s a fairly nice guy as athletes go, confident in his skills but respectful to the mechanics and friendly with the press, if a little odd.
“How did Valentine’s run go,” she asks into her headset.
Her manager hums into his mic, “Pretty well all things considered.”
Valentine runs a palm over the halo of his car, almost sweet with it.
“The weather is pretty nice, no water on the track and clear skies. Make sure you have the proper shade lens on your helmet Modig. We want you to run with type–”
Valentine leans down over his car and fucking hugs the thing, like a little kid with a teddy bear. The forehead of his helmet is tucked down to touch the carbon fibre of the cabin, and it hangs there for several seconds as she watches.
Kerstein snorts, “God, he’s a little fucked in the head, in’t he?”
“Huh? Did something happen? Modig, are you even listening to me?”
“Oh I’m listening, I'm listening. Sorry boss, just Val being weird again.”
Her manager sighs, “Modig, I’ve told you to stop watching him like a creeper. I thought we moved past this ‘thinking he’s flirting with you thing.’ He’s in an active relationship–”
“Boss, don't you have instructions to give me or something?”
“Goddamnit Kerstein. We’re coming back to this later, you’re lucky he doesn’t complain about you–”
“Instructions, boss.”
“Oh shut up! We want you running this pretty smooth, easy on the turns. The track is a little different this year, some changes to the local climate have affected the asphalt so just get comfortable for now. The car is different too, feel it all out.”
-o–o7___
Video Description, summary of several clips present
Three long dashes represent an audio bleep in the footage used as censorship
“Terrible timing really,” The man being interviewed says. His name is Wilson Bach, a driver for the Blue Phoenix racing team. He’s got monolidded eyes and dark hair, his racing suit is folded down around his waist revealing the black T-shirt he’s wearing underneath.
A figure still decked out in a helmet and full gear shoulders past the crowd of press gathered in front of Bach, who’s answering a few questions post race. He jostles several cameras.
“Bach!”
The man looks over, focusing on the new person as he raises an eyebrow. His hair lays flattened by his helmet, curling against his forehead and the helmet itself sits tucked under his arm. He’s the picture of a satisfied professional.
“If it isn’t the man of the hour. They were just asking about our near miss out there, I’m sure they might have some que–”
The helmeted man, a driver for the Speed Demons team named R. Valentine, cuts him off with a growl, “You, Mister Wilson Bach,” he points a still gloved finger at the other man, “Are a terrible driver! And it’s because you have no respect for your d—n rig!”
At that, Bach turns his entire body to face him, head tilted down as he sneers and gestures to himself with his free hand, “Do you want to say that a-f—king-gain Valentine?”
Valentine moves closer, stepping further into the circle of interviewers as someone inside the mechanic bay behind them calls for security.
“I said you have no d—n respect for your rig, or other people either! You could not give less of a s—t, could you Bach? This is all some game for you to play?”
Bach doesn’t move but to smack the pointing finger out of his face, his voice layers in with Valentine’s muffled shouting as he barks a “Get off me!”
A large man wearing a Blue Phoenix mechanic uniform rushes up from behind them and steps between the two. He puts a hand on Valentine’s shoulder and guides him back with an arm in front of his chest. He mutters something that none of the mics from the crowd catch.
“If you ever,” Valentine lets himself be pushed back, grasping at the elbow of the mechanic as he stumbles over his feet, “Ever. Come after me and my baby again like that–”
“That is enough!” A loud voice talks over the end of his sentence as someone else shoves into the area. It’s the other racer for the Speed Demons, Kerstein Modig, who is missing her helmet. Her hair trails after her in a pony-tail as she covers cameras and crowds into her team mate’s face.
“God—it, Val! Are you trying to get yourself expelled before the second f—king race?”
The man stills, shoulders shaking and fists clenched as he growls, “Of course not.”
“Then what the f—k do you think you’re doing? Huh?”
Another person wearing the Speed Demon’s uniform, this time the pit crew and management short sleeved version, makes way into the circle, politely moving around cameras and microphones. He also puts himself in between Valentine and Bach. He faces away from the majority of the cameras and his voice is low, so it’s hard to make out what he says but he nods at the Blue Phoenix mechanic who steps back with his hands up.
Modig takes one of Valentine’s arms in a tight grasp and forces him to turn away from the other team’s driver. This puts him in the frame of several cameras that flash and click as the three of them force their way past shouted (indecipherable) questions and ignore the few journalists who chase after them.
One of the journalists still by the bay speaks up, asking, “Bach, is it true that you orchestrated that near miss on purpose?”
“It’s a dangerous sport, Valentine should know that by now, we’re not playing bumper cars at the carnival,” he answers gruffly, one hand moving to adjust his hair, “Now I think I’m out of time. Thank you for your support!”
-o–o7____
Are the two Speed Demon drivers secretly in a relationship?
Article by Jess Warham
For anyone who tuned in to the first race of the 202X formula one season taking place in [], <>, (which lets be honest who isn't?) then you almost definitely saw the near impact that took place on turn five of the sixth lap between Blue Phoenix’s number 12, Wilson Bach and the Speed Demons number 33, R. Valentine. The Blue Phoenix racer was coming up behind the Speed Demon much quicker than many would deem appropriate for such a tight turn, forcing number 33 to veer off course to avoid what likely would have been race ending damage to his back wings.
If you only stuck around for the race this is the end of the story, as far as you're aware at least. However, after podium finishes and racing cool down, a group of reporters managed to catch Bach in his bay. The man was willing to spare a few moments to answer questions regarding his opinions of the first race day of the season. During this interview Valentine stormed past people to confront the Blue Phoenix driver. He made several demeaning comments about the other racer before the two were forced away from one another by a mechanic, and eventually the Speed Demon team manager.
In this article we will be taking a closer look at how the other racer for the Speed Demons, Swedish driver Kerstein Modig (number 54), was able to help calm the irate Valentine during this encounter, and the possibility that the two of them just might be involved behind the scenes.
Read more…
Comments:
Racecarbackward:
OH MY GOD this makes so much sense!!! Why else would the two of them be transferred to work together if they weren’t dating? No way they’d let partners race agaisnt each other!!
TeamJacob111:
And that’s why he said ME AND MY BABY!! He standing on business for her
Justaninchident:
IDK guys I kind of got the impression Modig was gay…
WinchesterClassic:
Since when was formula one about all this drama can’t you guys just report about the damn scoring?
-o–o7_____
ZACH’S PR MEETING NOTES:
Agenda
- The confrontation
- Why?
- Where is it being talked about
Why oh god why???- We aren’t being docked by the judges but its a warning on V’s record for the season
- Online opinion
- Split
- Apology possible?
- Rumors of dating
- Possibly ignorable but becoming a scandal
- Will likely come up during press conference
- Address or ignore?
-o–o7______
Kerstien follows Valentine as they take the steps up to the long table. Her dress shoes squeak on the steps and she hitches up the flowy pants she wore to look more professional. She’s half shocked Valentine didn’t show up wearing his full racing gear, everyone knows he has a spare set at home, but he’s dressed moderately fancy with black slacks, a salmon collared button up and a balaclava. The balaclava is courtesy of the motorcycle helmet he carries under his arm, and it’s a coin flip whether he removes it or not. He usually keeps his race one on for interviews.
Behind her, also coming up the stairs, are the two drivers for the Blue Phoenix racing team. May blessings reign on the person who put her and Yankee in between Valentine and Bach.
She sits down and adjusts the mic in front of her. Technically this conference is meant to be an open floor for questions of any kind for any of the four of them, but everyone knows it’s supposed to be a way to put the “Confrontation” behind them and proceed on with the rest of the season. The sooner they can nip this in the bud the less the PR team will have to cover for Valentine over his outburst.
“Alright, the floor is now open for questions.”
She spaces out slightly as a few low ball questions start them off, questions she’s been answering for years. ‘Were you nervous for the first race?’ ‘What’s your training routine look like?’ ‘How does it feel being the only woman on the circuit?’
At that one she perks up, not expecting a question geared to her only.
“It’s an accomplishment, of course. And of course, I’m proud to be here. It’s not like I’m the first woman to ever do it, but I hope I can make all of my supporters proud this season,” she answers. She could go much deeper into it all, but she can see the reporter who caught her attention itching to ask a follow up so she stops it there.
“Now, are you aware of the rumors that you and your team mate are affiliated?”
She almost laughs, “Of course we’re affiliated, we work for the same company. It'd be odd if we never talked to each other.”
If journalists insist on asking her about dating she’s going to make it as hard as possible. She’s not a reality TV actor, she’s a goddamn athlete.
Another person raises their hand to speak, “I believe what she was asking is whether or not the rumors of you two seeing one another are true?”
She turns her head to look at Valentine next to her, who does the same.
“Well I sure can see her now,” he deadpans, “I assume she can see me too. Be hard to drive with vision problems,” he tacks on pho-helpfully.
Kerstien smirks, before trying to smother it into a neutral expression. Thankfully, the next question goes out to the other side of the table.
“Mister Bach, have you and Mr. Valentine made up after that disastrous conversation last week?”
And boom goes the dynamite! She could roll her eyes at the way the room goes tense, Bach taking a moment of contemplative silence that only lets the feeling intensify.
“As professionals there are times we will disagree with one another. I choose not to let this moment of…heat affect the way I choose to drive for the rest of the season.”
Kerstien fights the urge to gag. He’s such a dramatic bastard, an asshole too. Anyone with eyes saw how he was driving recklessly at [], but he didn’t break any rules. She has to give him that much, at least he’s smart about being a douche. Had he pulled that stunt on her she would’ve been just as pissed as Valentine was.
Of course, the next question pings over to ask for V’s side of the story too.
“As Bach said, things happen sometimes. Racing is a very adrenaline heavy sport and it causes our stress hormones to spike off the radar. I've apologized for what I said to him and we’ve decided to move on from the conflict and work even harder on the course. Only one’s effort holds up the character of their soul, and we intend to prove ours relentlessly,” he answers, leaning on his elbows and voice only slightly muffled under his mask.
She’s almost impressed. Somehow Valentine, the weirdo who pets his car, managed to meet Bach at his level of snob. Kudos to him.
“You mention a soul, would you consider yourself spiritual in any way, Mr. Valentine?”
He shakes his head, “Now that’s a complicated question to ask at a four person press conference. Catch me for a solo interview and maybe I can tell you more about it,” he says with a smile that shows in the way his mask stretches and his eyes close.
With such an insistent shut down the floor is again open to questions of any kind, and the journalists no longer grasp for some kind of connector to make the panel run smoothly. She respects the man for holding his ground but Kerstein could throttle him for allowing an opening for the next question to rise up from somewhere in the mid rows.
“To circle back to an earlier question,” Kerstein tightens her grip on the fabric between her fingers, "Valentine, is it true that when you said quote ‘me and my baby’ end quote during your conflict with Bach, that you were referring to miss Modig?”
A slight chaos falls as the shutters of cameras and flashes of bulbs strike up at the question and Kerstein sighs into her palm. At least they didn't cover it up with leading words like ‘affiliated’’ this time.
“No sir. I was not referring to Modig with that statement.”
“Then who were you talking about? Do you have a family the public is unaware of?”
“Excuse me,” pipes up a voice from the other side of Kerstein, she looks over in surprise as Yankee speaks up for the first time since top of show, “That’s quite an invasive question ain’t it? You don’t gotta answer that, Valentine.”
“Thank you, Jones, but I don’t mind,” Valentine nods at the Blue Phoenix driver and reaches over the table to pat him on the shoulder as he answers, “I am in a committed relationship with my long term girlfriend.”
A new voice shouts out excitedly, “Does the public know her? Is she involved in Formula 1?”
“Yes she is, she has made public appearances alongside me many times.”
Kerstein stomps on Valentine’s foot under the table as the voices only get louder. She leans forward to gesture for silence, not working to do more than excite the crowd further, and she says loudly into the microphone, “The bastard is still not referring to me you internet conspiracy theorists. Can we please talk about our actual jobs now?”
“Well hold on Kerstein, this is an open floor, they can ask whatever they want to,” Bach points out, arms crossed over his chest and smirk clear on his face. She would shake the man to death if Yankee wasn’t sitting between them. Many curses to whoever arranged for their seating to be this way.
“Mr. Valentine! Would you be willing to share anything else about this woman before we move on?”
Valentine gets a far away look in his eyes as he leans closer to the mic, “Her name is Cupid, we’ve been together since my first year as a Formula 1 racer. She’s helped me score every point I’ve ever made.”
Someone standing in the very back of the room makes a surprised sound and raises her hand. She doesn’t have a camera or a notebook, not even a press pass around her neck to identify who she’s reporting for. She’s older, and dressed in a simple polo and jeans combo.
“Alice! Is that you?” Valentine asks, shading his eyes with a hand against the spotlights pointing at them.
The woman nods and Kerstein maybe recognizes her from somewhere.
“This woman is one of our mechanics over at Speed Demon, everyone,” He tells the crowd, “Lovely to see you, did you have a question, doc?”
Alice shifts, hands on her hips as she pauses for a moment, “Well it’s just that–don’t you call your car Cupid?”
Kerstein’s eye twitches and she whirls around to her team mate, “You named your car?”
She can hear the sentiment echoed by the other two drivers behind her. Her confusion shifts to reluctant acceptance as the smile on Valentine’s face visibly extends under the balaclava. He must be grinning from ear to ear, fucking weirdo. First he hugs his car, and then he names it?
Someone shouts out “Is your car named after this girlfriend, then?”
Suddenly Kerstein jolts forward, one hand grabbing Valentine's arm and the other covering her mic. She hisses as quietly as she can while ducking her head away from the press, hearing as cameras speed up their clicks in response to her reaction. “You’re talking about the fucking thing, aren’t you?”
He turns to her with his head tilted to the side, his eyes are squinted with the force of his smile, “One and the same, my Cupid.”
“God you are a freak, I knew it!”
She rolls her eyes when Valentine’s shoulder stiffens under her hand, “No no–,” she sighs, “Well you must know that’s not normal–but I don’t care. You’re a good driver, that’s all I care about, just know I fucking called it.”
Yankee nudges her with an elbow, “If you guys are trying to avoid the dating rumors, this isn’t helping,” he mumbles, hand also covering his mic. Behind him, Bach is staring at them with thinly veiled fascination.
The press keeps yelling and clicking and shouting until a PR manager for the Speed Demons steps down to them. He flicks off their microphones and leans in, “Guys? Is something wrong, do we need to cut this off?”
“Well–”
Valentine turns to him, “Modig just realized that I’m dating my car–do you think I should keep that information private, Zach? Should I use my coverup story?”
“You have a fucking cover up story?” She hisses.
Zach stares at him for a long moment before reaching a hand up and pinching his nose, “Why did I ever want to go into Public Relations,” he mutters darkly, poor man is probably going grey at 30. “I’d say use a coverup for now, do not tell the public you are in a relationship with your racing vehicle. We’ll talk about this later.”
He flicks their mics back on before he turns around, he holds up his hand in a gesture that quiets the crowd a little before he steps back off to the side. He makes intentional eye contact with them again as he does so.
“Sorry everyone,” Valentine starts, “Modig just realized she knows Cupid.” He nudges her with an elbow.
“Right–I’ve met her and I had no idea they were dating. Caught me off guard,” she fakes an awkward laugh and fidgets with the mic stand.
“Anyway, that’s enough talk about my girlfriend. Can we move on to another topic, please?”
-o–o7_______