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This is too far.
The reigning Champion huffed as he pushed the door, Maverick having let it swing shut in his face, and started after the younger man at a jog.
"MAV. WAIT."
The younger man's head moved, like he'd heard, before he kept on walking and Jorge was forced into a jog to catch him up and grab his arm.
"Ok, what the fuck have I done to you."
The Suzuki rider stared back, slight shock at having been physically stopped and unsure what to say, and then pulled his arm back as he looked away and shrugged. "Nothing."
"Sure. Tell me that again without sounding like I killed your dog."
"Fine." His eyes locked with the defending Champion's. "Nothing."
"So why did you slam the door in my face?"
"Didn't see-"
"Yes you fucking did. So what the hell's going on? I know we're not exactly best fr-"
"Oh, I know. You made that perf-"
Aha. "What?!"
"What."
"Yeah, what did I do?"
You don't even remember. "I heard you, ok? So give it up."
"Heard me?!" Jorge stared at him, no clue at all about what he could possibly be talking about, and waited. For nothing. "Ok what the fuck do you think-"
"I don't think, Lorenzo. I know. I heard you. In Germany. Talking about me. Telling them you thought I was going to fail and not be able to replace-"
"Oh, shit-"
"Exactly. So don't-"
"No, no, no. I promise it wasn't like that-"
"How could it not be? You're really that arrogant you think-"
"Mav, think about who I was talking to-"
"I didn't even see who you were talking to and I don't care-"
"Ok, stop. I was talking to Marc - my trainer - but all of Vale's guys could hear. That was the-"
"Oh great so they think-"
"Yeah, they think I don't rate you. They think I think Vale is going to beat you. Because what happens then-"
"I come into the team on the back foot-"
"Ok first? In Yamaha, with him? The back foot is the first step before you leave by the back door, ok? You go in there focused and knowing-"
"I don't need a pep talk-"
"No, I know. The point is, it's better if they think you're less of a threat. Because they won't work as hard."
"Yeah sure-"
"I winked at him. Marc, that is, when I said it. So he knew I wasn't being serious. I was just trying to check if they were listening-"
"This is all a great excuse-"
"It's not an excuse. You're the best rider who isn't already on a top bike. Who knows how good you really are. And you're not intimidated by sharing the garage with him? Neither was I. And I did ok."
Nothing.
"If I didn't give a shit about you, why would I still be stood here trying to-"
"You've never given a shit about m-"
"Bullshit. You know you're...different. And you know I have a lot of respect for you. You're just...I don't know. You're not the same as them-"
The Yamaha rider lost the thought as he suddenly hit the wall, the younger man's mouth on his and breath stolen, everything frozen as he tried to process what the fuck was happening, before Maverick pulled away; bright red.
"God I'm sorry-"
"Don't-" Jorge cut him off, watching him already start to back away, and instinctively reached out to grab his arm and stop him. "What the fuck-"
"I'm s-sorry, I just...I just...I don't know I just want...I don't know-"
"You're gay-"
"No. Well... I don't know. I-I don't know anything I just know it hurt so much all summer thinking about that-thinking you hated me to thought I was shit or-"
"You spent all summer thinking-"
"About you, yeah I did. So I'm sorry and that was a mistake and I'll just-"
"Come here." Lorenzo tugged his arm, suddenly terrified of how public it all was despite the late hour, and grabbed him into the toilet at the back of the trucks, door slamming shut behind them and leaving only the faint light from the high window panel. "You like me." The words sounded more intimate in the closed space, both breathing heavily after the kiss and the shock, and Maverick almost mute.
"Y-yeah. But I'm sorry and I just hope you don't hate me even more now-"
Jorge cut him off with a shake of the head, just visible, before leaning forward to pull him closer, ending up face to face and breath hitting each other's cheeks. "Stop apologising."
The words, and the tone, went straight to the Suzuki rider's crotch before the older man's lips were back on his, gentler and tongue darting out to explore, hands tangling round him and pulling him closer until they were backed up against the door and a soft groan escaped the younger man as Jorge's hand moved between them to palm him, teasing just enough before he pulled away and stared at him, both chests heaving.
"Motorhome."
"Y-yours or-"
"Yes."