Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mane has only been in Minute’s house long enough to exchange awkward greetings and take off his rain-soaked jacket at the door, and he’s already seen more than enough to convince him that Minute doesn’t actually want to be retired from NASCAR.

Seriously. Minute’s fucking clock from Martinsville is right there in the middle of his living room. He might be hiding all the less furniture-shaped trophies somewhere else out of sight, but Mane knows just how fucking proud Minute was of winning Martinsville. Mane wants one of those damn clocks too, and he already has a place in his own house where he wants to put it.

And of course there’s also all the perfectly framed newspapers that all mention his racing, which Minute had unsuccessfully tried to distract Mane from when he brought him through his entry hallway.

“Don’t start,” Minute says as he sits down.

Mane watches the other man settle into the seat.

Minute moves his body slowly, tensing up and shaking slightly even after he’s sitting down. His fluffy black therapy dog moves closer to him, leaning her head against him. Minute starts petting her almost distractedly.

Insane how this is the guy who made Mane hate and love the sport more than he ever thought would be possible. This is the guy who stole the win from Mane at Daytona last year and then ruined his own fucking life the following weekend by crashing his car into the fence three laps before Mane could claim victory over him in retaliation.

“I’m not starting anything,” Mane says, crossing his arms. He’s really not here to, like, provoke Minute or anything. He’s got a week off and he wanted to see him. “Can’t I just come and see you?”

Minute reaches for a pile of newspapers on the table beside him.

“You’ve been doing good this season, Mane,” he says. “I’ve been watching—”

“You should be there,” Mane interjects.

Minute sighs. “You just said you weren’t starting anything. Mane, I miss you too, but—”

“I’m serious,” Mane says. “You can still race. I refuse to believe you can’t. You should be back out there. People still want to see you. You can’t tell me you don’t fucking miss it.”

Minute won’t look at him, focusing on petting the dog instead. “Mane…”

“Come on,” Mane says. “We need you out there.”

Because it’s not the same. It’s not the fucking same. Mane has a new teammate now and the new guy sucks. Mane outperforms him so easily every single fucking week and he’s never been so angry about doing well. It should be Minute instead, pushing Mane to be better every fucking second they’re out on the track. Mane has won two races this year and he was happy about it, but then he’d heard the talk behind the pit wall.

How he’s only starting to dominate because his number one competition is retired. How Mane only has a shot of winning the Cup series this year because Minute isn’t racing anymore.

“I almost died,” Minute says quietly. “I was in a coma for four days, dude. I’ve had so many surgeries and everything still hurts. I don’t— you don’t get it.”

Mane gets up and starts pacing around the room. He doesn’t want to fucking hear this. Minute just needs to get better already and come back. Mane is confident that the team owners will drop that new guy instantly once Minute tells them he wants to come back.

And Mane needs him. He needs to race against Minute again. He needs to prove all those assholes wrong, that he can win the series regardless of whether Minute is racing or not. He’s better than Minute, and he’ll prove it to everyone.

“Other drivers make it back,” Mane says. “People race injured all the time. You can do it too. Don’t you want to come back?”

Mane walks up to the clock and opens up the glass door, watching the pendulum swing back and forth. It’s beautiful. He wants it so bad, but he DNF-ed Martinsville this year. Next year, for sure.

“I don’t think I can,” Minute says.

“Sure you can,” Mane says. “Come on out, there’s a local raceway near here, right? I’ll take you. We can go there right after the rain is over.”

“Mane—”

“Come on, bro,” Mane says. He shuts the clock and looks at Minute. “Just try it. You love racing. You love trying to beat me. Don’t you wanna prove them all wrong, that you can come back?”

Minute looks away from him. “Mane… I miss you. I really do. But I… I can’t race right now.”

Mane nods slowly. So… next year, probably. Mane can win the Cup series this year and then Minute will make his comeback next year and Mane can beat him fair and square and prove to everyone why they can’t look down on him anymore.

“Thanks for coming to visit,” Minute says. “Sorry I’m… not very interesting right now.”

Mane drops back into the chair. “Bro, what are you talking about? You’re interesting. What have you been up to, by the way? I’ve barely heard from you. Have you been here the whole time? You can still come see the races, you know. Come see me.”

Minute hums softly. “Yeah. I might. I don’t know. I think I should stay out of the cameras for a while longer.” The dog makes a gentle noise and Minute smiles at her. “It’s been nice.”

Mane looks around the living room. It looks like it’s out of the Sears catalog. “Aren’t you bored?”

Minute laughs. “Yeah, actually. It’s— it sucks. There’s like nothing to do and nobody’s been here.”

“Oh.” Mane says. “I, uh… I’m sorry I haven’t been here to see you sooner. I was busy. The season’s been crazy.”

It’s been terrible.

“Yeah,” Minute says. He glances at the window, where the storm is still battering the glass with wind and rain. “If the weather was better, I’d be able to show you the garden out back.”

“You have a garden?” Mane says. He would have never imagined Minute gardening. The Minute he knows is a hardass competitive maniac who works himself to the bone to get better at racing.

“It’s not much,” Minute says. “If you come back another day, we can cook out there. I… I haven’t had anyone over, actually.”

“I bet it’s cool,” Mane insists. “Sure. I’ll come over. It’ll have to be during the week, though.”

“That’s okay,” Minute says. He laughs a bit dismissively. “Not like I’m doing all that much right now.”

Mane stares at him.

He doesn’t know what to do. This was supposed to be him convincing Minute to come back. Maybe he does need to just come back a few more times. Keep bringing up the whole end-this-retirement-already plan. Spend time with Minute and remind him what he’s missing. He can even bring… some of the other drivers. Jumper, Planet… maybe Zam. The ones who aren’t total pieces of shit. He can bring them over and help Minute remember that he belongs back on the track.

“So… you really want to come back to see me?” Minute says.

“Yeah,” Mane says. “Of course I’ll come back for you.”

Of course he’ll come back. He’ll keep coming back here until one day, Minute will come back with him.