Work Text:
Reporters flock to Tadej like flies, they buzz and pry and try to suck out all the info and drama from them, almost clawing at their skin. Tadej is absolutely glowing, wiping the sweat off of their face with a towel, talking and laughing at the same time.
It reminds Jonas of just how different they are as he pulls his suit off and ties it around his waist, already he can feel the eyes of reporters on him, sizing him up and wondering what sort of mood he’s in.
If they flock to Tadej like flies then they flock to Jonas like those birds that clean crocodile’s teeth, a symbiotic relationship but one where they are always aware that he could snap on their necks at any moment.
Tadej preens under the attention, or at least outwardly they do, they’re so good at it, this persona, that they’re bubbly and happy and extroverted, but Jonas has raced against them forever, he sees the quick glances to their PR manager, the way their shoulders are tightening up slowly but noticeable, maybe only to Jonas.
Jonas takes a Redbull from Attila, his PR guy, he’s already talking a mile a minute, Jonas mostly tunes him out and gulps down the energy drink, his water bottle disconnected about 8 laps in, his throat is parched and the energy drink does almost nothing, it's cold though.
Jonas is tapped lightly on the arm and Attila starts to steer him to his own little crowd of reporters, away from Tadej.
The thought makes Jonas unreasonably sad. He looks behind him and Attila laughs, “come on you’ll see them soon.”
He doesn’t have much time to process it though, cameras are being shoved into his face, microphones too, reporters talking fast in accents that Jonas can barely decipher at a normal rate. He blinks a bit against the flashing lights.
“Okay okay, one at a time,” Attila holds his hands out and pushes a few of the microphones away, a tall man steps forward. “Jonas how do you feel being so close to winning and having it snatched away from you?” Jonas grimaces.
“Well obviously it’s disappointing, uh the car breaking down.” He swallows and shrugs. “But I mean, if anyone was to beat me I'm glad it was Tadej.” Jonas lets that though peter off.
The reporter doesn’t seem to know what to say to that so another one wedges her way in. “With the many car problems you’ve experienced this year, what do you think about your chances of winning the WC?”
She pronounces it like Double-You See, it annoys Jonas, just say World Cup.
“Well, uh yeah it’s tense but I trust my team and our strategies, and the year isn’t over yet.”
God he’s thirsty, he’s sweaty and uncomfortable and wants nothing more than to go back to his motorhome and sleep.
Fucking FIA and their media rules.
Jonas autopilots through the rest of the questions before Attila finally steers him away and to the cooldown room.
Tadej is there, Jonas’s stomach does a funny little thing. They’re sitting somehow crosslegged on the seat that is definitely too small, not paying attention to the screen but when Jonas appears they look up and smile.
Jonas’s stomach feels like it's on a roller coaster. He gives a weak smile back and sits on his own seat, thank fuck there’s a water bottle by the chair leg.
A towel hits him in the face. “What was that for?” He grumbles at Tadej.
“I can smell your sweat from here”. Tadej’s grin is big and mischievous, they have somehow managed to twist themselves into an even more convoluted position to face Jonas. Jonas grins back.
“There's no cameras right now”, Tadej tilts their head and rests their chin on their fists.
“Oh?” Jonas says faux casually. He grins too and very fast leans in to give Tadej a kiss.
It’s fast and fleeting and what they can manage until media is done and the cameras are off.
“Oh eww”. Remco wrinkles his nose as he walks in, he pulls his suit off as he walks and gets one arm stuck in the sleeve. Tadej turns to him and sticks their tongue out. “You’re just jealous”.
“Absolutely not”. Remco makes gagging noises, Tadej does another impossible spin around in the chair to talk to the third place finisher, Jonas finishes his water bottle and decides to steal Tadej’s.
The race recap starts playing, Remco swears profusely when Adam pushes him off the track, Tadej laughs.
Tadej gently hits Jonas’s leg with their own, they don’t look at each other but Jonas taps them back. Their own private way of telling each other they love each other when they can’t do it under the cameras.
Sometimes it scares Jonas, the kisses stolen in bathrooms and cooldown rooms, the brushing of shoulders and legs, the loving glances on podiums.
Jonas knows how much Tadej loves him, he can only hope Tadej knows the same, he can feel it on the track, the way the cars work against each other, cleaner than either of them race otherwise.
Sometimes it scares Jonas, but it exhilarates him more.
Besides, Formula One is all about fear.