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Chapter Text

Mark knew what playing dirty was like. Five years of mind games from Sebastian made that clear. He also knew he wanted his young protege to get just as much success as Sebastian, maybe even more. It wasn’t unusual, really, for a manager to have quite this level of investment in his driver. It was dedication. For Mark, it was life. He didn’t have a lot else. Ann was old, though that was hardly a surprise, Mark was too, but she just couldn’t satisfy Mark anymore. Couldn’t provide what he wanted. Not the adrenaline an ex-Formula One driver would want. Not the adrenaline a teenager got from hooking up with his much older manager. When he was watching Oscar win, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time. He felt like he had back when he was a young driver, with ambitions of championships, girls, and success. His goals were different now, he was older, he was different. 

So when Mark saw the potential in Oscar, the chances he once thought had belonged to him, and a teammate with just as much of everything, he knew what he had to do. Norris had a good manager, sure, but he was never a racer. Never knew what it was like to give everything to a thankless team. Never had to claw opportunities and success as they came, only for it to benefit his teammate. Mark had been through it. Knew what to do, what to say, and how to handle it. He had made his mistakes, mistakes Sebastian hadn’t. He had been a good driver in his own right back in the day, but in reality, his career had come down to a footnote on Seb’s victories. Oscar would never have to deal with that, Mark would make sure of it.

He called Sebastian. Through awkward smiles and too-long hugs, their relationship was nothing anymore. Not friends. Not rivals. Not teammates. They existed outside of each other’s orbit, neither of them ever attempting to rein the other back in. Mark didn’t even know if this was still Seb’s number. It rang. For a long time. No answer.

Obviously, like the old man he was, he was going to leave a voicemail. He heard a flat, German accent rattle out the regular voicemail message, which made him freeze slightly. This was so stupid. Too far, maybe? Why would Sebastian even care about Mark’s young apprentice? But, he gathered up the small amount of bravery that was ever present in anyone who had ever been in their line of work, and spoke.

“Hi, Seb. It’s Mark. I’d like to talk to you. No, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent. Um, I’m not well. It looks bad. I’m trying to reconnect with old… friends. Make amends. Can we meet up? I’m in Monaco. I live in the same place as I used to. Let me know when you’re free, if you want to.”

Look, he never claimed to be a proud man. Or a good man. He knew, obviously, lying about illness, making himself sound like he was on death’s door, was not exactly a way back into Sebastian’s heart. Maybe not back into his heart, he never knew if he was there at all. But either way, it’d get Sebastian interested. And their relationship had always thrived on tricks and deceit. This could even make Seb remember the past. The few good times they had had together. And it was for Oscar’s benefit. Nothing would stand in the way of a championship this time, especially not Seb’s old grudges. And something as serious as a sickness wasn’t likely to really worry the German, just create a morbid curiosity that was hopefully enough to inspire the man to make the journey from Switzerland. 

True to form, Sebastian appeared on his doorstep a week later. Late enough to not be considered eager, not considerate of the fact Mark might not have been home, (Mark was really just being petty, realistically, he was always home,) and definitely not caring about if Ann was there. It was hardly like the two didn’t have practice sneaking around the woman. 

It was just enough to incite emotion in Mark. A strange mix of nostalgia and homesickness. Not for his home in England or Monaco. Or even his home in Australia. For the hotel rooms shared with Sebastian that were their home for long nights, bad arguments, and tender reconciliations. The drivers’ rooms they sat in together, often in silence, barely looking at each other. It was one of the worst times of his life, yet he missed it more than anything. Of course, one day the reconciling stopped. They no longer shared hotel rooms, Mark’s nights were colder, until they no longer even shared a garage. Then they were just empty. This is why I hated him. Mark thought. He makes me feel like shit. Cynicism rushed through the Australian as it often did in the other’s presence.

“Hello, Mark.” Sebastian said coolly. It was different to the oddly cordial manner he often took on when seeing Mark in public. 

Sebastian brushed past Mark, letting himself into the house, and making Mark’s head spin. The man sat down on Mark’s sofa, familiar in a way that felt wrong. This house was the worst. It was plain, boring, and clearly not often lived in. Besides the furniture, there was nothing there. No pictures, no personality, nothing. It looked exactly how the interior designer had left it. Even the house he shared with Ann was better than this. Seeing Seb in this environment was… strange. The German looked over at him appraisingly, casting a calculating glare. “You’re… sick?” He asked slowly.

Mark sat on a chair across from him. “Not exactly.” He replied. 

“You either are unwell or you aren’t. Don’t say "not exactly.”” Sebastian said firmly. He was never one to sugarcoat, though Mark supposed that went without saying. Didn’t make this moment feel better. 

“I’m not. I just needed to talk to you.” Mark gave Seb a look that was frankly something he was embarrassed of. Pleading in a way he only got around select people. Oscar being one of them. Good, sweet Oscar. Nothing like Seb. Yet. 

Sebastian just gave a long blink. Not out of surprise, obviously, Mark didn’t have the capacity to surprise him anymore, he hadn’t in a long time. No, this was Seb showing that, after all this time, he still had the upper hand over Mark. Was still the same unflappable man he had come to know over those years. This was pure exasperation from Sebastian. The closest he’d get to saying, “Why can’t you just leave it alone? Stop bothering me with these games, I’ll always win.”

“I need your help.” Mark implored. “Oscar is-” He sucked in a breath. Talking about Oscar to Sebastian made him feel things he didn’t recognise, or want to recognise. “Oscar is really good. He’s got so much potential. But he’s young. He hasn’t got the experience that the others have. And Norris-”

Sebastian cut him off, frowning. “You can’t seriously have brought me here to ask for advice about teammates fighting. I think you have enough experience yourself. Don’t waste my time with this.”

Mark carried on. “Norris is good, but his mentality is weak. Oscar could exploit it, if he knew how. But I was always…” He hated to admit things like this, “I was always worse at the manipulation stuff. You had the edge over me, constantly. That’s… that’s why I never got the championship back then. I can’t let that happen again with Osc. If you just- just helped him. I know he could win. You’ve seen Norris, you could destroy him, you know that. Help Oscar do what you did to me.”

His ego would never recover.

Sebastian was unreadable.  Mark would have liked to believe Sebastian couldn’t act like that around him anymore. The German just stared at him critically. 

“Alright. I will help him.”

Chapter Text

In no way did Mark want another Sebastian. There were only a very few, select people that would be insane enough to want to deal with two Sebastian Vettels in their life. Mark was certainly not in that demographic. Too many years of terrorism, not enough happy endings. That’s why Mark decided that Sebastian was not to be left alone with Oscar during their lessons . He knew well enough that it didn’t take much for Seb to get his claws into someone’s head. It’s not like Seb was some nefarious evil that could be unleashed on Oscar, but he could certainly make someone question things. Their worldview, their own thoughts, themselves as a whole. The German had certainly left Mark questioning himself more than he’d want to admit, in more ways than he was comfortable with, after crawling into his mind with just a message down the radio, a muttered sentence on a podium, or a pointed look as he walked straight past Mark’s room into his own. 

So, Mark invited Oscar to his Monaco apartment. Ever punctual, the young Australian got there just half an hour after Mark called. The shock on the boy’s face at seeing both Mark and Sebastian would probably not be noticeable by anyone else, but Mark knew Oscar, and Sebastian knew people. Otherwise, he would have looked completely imperturbed by the sight of his manager and his manager’s ex-rival sitting down together, staring at him like the world’s worst intervention. 

“Hi.” Oscar directed his greeting to Mark, but glanced briefly at Sebastian. 

Mark stood up to greet the boy, taking him into a comfortable embrace. Much unlike those he had shared with Sebastian over the last few years. Oscar returned the hug before Mark sat back down, gesturing for the younger to sit in the chair opposite the couch shared with Sebastian. Oscar did as he was told, sitting down straight away. The boy looked between Mark and Sebastian, impatient as always.

“Oscar. You’re one of the most talented young drivers I’ve ever seen. You have something special.” Mark began, staring directly at his protégé. “You remind me a lot of myself-” Sebastian scoffed at that, but Mark pressed on. “Which is why I don’t want you making the mistakes I did when I was your age. With Sebastian.” Mark tried not to think about how badly his head was spinning now that Oscar and Seb were both sitting in his apartment, staring at him. He was almost certainly out of his depth. Not uncommon when Seb had anything to do with it. With Oscar, though, it wasn’t usually like this. Mark was usually a stabilising presence for Oscar, leading him wherever Mark wanted the boy to go, but now , just looking at Oscar for this long, knowing Sebastian was watching was… terrifying. He could practically feel his every move, or lack of movement, being analysed by the German. There were some things he’d rather not admit aloud quite yet. Things Sebastian would definitely love to press Mark for further information on, maybe even in front of the young driver sat with them. The possibility nearly nauseated Mark. He was definitely off track now. Fortunately or unfortunately, Sebastian then decided to take over.

“You and Norris could be much like me and Mark. I’m sure you’ll agree, out of the two of us, you’d much rather follow in my footsteps.” Sebastian drawled, his words filling Mark with a type of upset he hadn’t felt in over ten years. Hearing Oscar admit that Sebastian was better than him would be… something. Something unpleasant. Luckily, Oscar didn’t. Sebastian just continued. “Now, Mark has asked me to teach you what he never figured out for himself. How to win. Not races, Mark managed that occasionally, but a different type of competition. He couldn’t outsmart people. You’re doing a passable job of it now, I’d admit, but you could be so much better. Championships aren’t won by just being faster. You have to be better in every way. Just like I was to Mark.” Sebastian went to carry on his monologue about how fantastic and superior he was to Mark, when Mark’s phone rang. Loudly. 

Both of the others stopped and turned to stare at him. Sebastian glared at him for interrupting. 

“Go outside.” Seb gritted out. 

Mark was about to argue, saying he’d just tell them to call back, when he noticed who was calling. Ann. Fuck. “I’ll be back in a minute, Osc.” Mark swiftly left the room, briefly putting a hand on Oscar’s shoulder as he exited.

The last thing he heard before the door swung closed was Sebastian’s declaration to the young boy. “You will never follow team orders ever again. Clear?”

What a bad sign.

Mark resigned himself to a fate of Sebastian’s troublemaking, before answering Ann’s call.

Now, despite appearances, Mark really did love Ann. She was a very nice wife, and they rarely argued or anything. Mark just loved some other people a bit more. But it wasn’t like she was a picture of innocence either. She was married when she met Mark. Not to mention she was his manager and he was a teenager. He knew it looked really bad from the outside, they both did, but neither particularly cared. So, if she were ever to find out about Mark’s infidelity, how could she judge him? A few nights over the years with Sebastian hardly mattered. Even if there were more feelings there, that wasn’t relevant to their marriage. It was mind tricks, all of it, Mark was just a man, after all. And Oscar… was something else. Every time Mark put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, every internal cringe after he called Oscar “kid”, every time Oscar searched the crowd, only interested in meeting Mark’s eye, after he got on the podium. Well, that was Mark’s business, and Mark’s business alone. 

For all the comparisons Mark had privately made between himself and Oscar, or Oscar and Seb, the thing he hated most was the thought that Oscar and Lando were in a similar situation to himself and Sebastian. Sure, he liked it when he was considering all the ways those similarities could be exploited on track because of Mark’s experience or mentorship, but when he was thinking of how Lando and Oscar felt about each other off track… he was much less pleased with himself.

It was definitely a possibility. No, probably more than that. It was quite likely, Mark thought, that Oscar and Lando had hooked up. They were touchy with each other, in a way that made his stomach twist in uncomfortable pain. They definitely joked about sleeping together too often for it to just be a joke. They shared hotels, Oscar telling Mark they had separate rooms, yet the bill being weirdly cheap for two rooms in the caliber of hotel that Lando demanded on staying in. Mark never brought it up, but he suspected it. Officially, Oscar was straight. But so was Mark. And between how the boy acted with Lando and how he acted with Mark, well. They both knew the unspoken truth of the matter. That wasn’t uncommon, in a business like theirs, to keep your sexuality hidden. But really, the problem was that it meant Oscar wouldn’t confirm or deny that anything had happened with Lando in front of Mark.

He really didn’t want a relationship with Oscar, anyway. It would be wrong. Worse than him and Ann. More complicated than him and Sebastian. And most definitely not in either of their best interests. Mark’s focus was getting Oscar to the success he had never reached himself. If he did pursue Oscar, it would make the boy’s career implode, and risk absolutely everything they had worked for. Mark was genuinely content with how things were. All he wanted was to be Oscar’s mentor, anything else was out of the question. A small personal sacrifice to further Mark’s real goals. Get his- no, Oscar’s championship.

At the end of the day, Mark knew his fears weren’t something he really needed to worry about. No teammate relationship ever worked out. And what he shared with Oscar, while it wasn’t overtly romantic, Mark knew he had Oscar under his thumb. And if the boy never found out about Mark’s feelings for him, the ones Mark himself could barely even think to himself without feeling like a fucking pervert, it wouldn’t matter. Lando and Oscar would crash into each other on track, and Oscar would come running back to Mark for help. Mark no longer had to worry about ruining his relationships through racing incidents, and he was thankful for it. Sebastian was a different era of Mark’s life, and he would keep him in the past. Oscar was now. That’s exactly how he wanted it to stay. Even though he had invited them both to his house. At the same time. 

Yes, Mark was definitely fucked. And he was definitely stupid. But no amount of personal struggle would be too much to handle for Oscar’s sake.

Chapter Text

A few weeks later, Mark’s plan seemed to be working. Whilst Oscar was slightly more aggressive on track than Mark would prefer, he was getting the results, and Lando was visibly unhappier. For once in his life, Sebastian had actually helped Mark. It was a good feeling. He felt powerful. Strong. Like he was past all the stupid games Sebastian used to play with him all those years ago. Everything was coming up Webber. Oscar was leading the championship, and 40 points clear of Lando, and Mark was finally succeeding.

Sebastian was back in Switzerland now, so Mark didn't have to deal with him and Oscar hanging around his house, conspiring in his living room. Despite his promise to himself that the two would not be left alone, he often found himself unable to manage being in the room with both of them in the two weeks they spent at his home. So, he didn't really know what advice Oscar had been given. Either way, it was good. So Mark didn't care. 

While Oscar was having his winning streak, Mark opted to attend every race, just in case Oscar needed him for whatever reason. And to make sure Sebastian hadn’t taught the boy too well. For all the success, Seb hadn’t been well liked, and Mark would like to make sure Oscar had a good mix of both wins and adoration. It was only healthy for him. Really, Mark would give Oscar the clothes off of his back if the floor was wet and the boy didn’t feel like stepping in a puddle. But Oscar wasn’t the sort to make requests like that. Thankfully. That’s why Mark was so fond of him. To Mark, Oscar deserved everything. That’s why he had gone through with calling Seb, after all. To make sure Oscar would get everything he deserved. And as many championships as the young Aussie could be bothered to collect. 

McLaren were happy with Oscar’s results. Sure, Oscar had made a few comments down the radio that were less than pleased about strategy, the car, whatever. But Oscar was fighting for his championship, so why should he give information to the team that could be used to benefit Lando? Or let Lando have DRS if Oscar was the one on fresher tyres? It just didn’t make sense. And there was truthfully only one driver at Mclaren that would bring them the Driver’s Championship, at the end of the day. So he deserved to be treated as a first driver. Not a second thought, or whatever bullshit Zak Brown had spouted before about both drivers both being equals in their team. Equality was not a possibility if either driver was truly competitive. Mark knew that. Sebastian knew that. And now, Oscar knew it too. And if Oscar’s media days with Lando were that bit more strained? Well, it really wasn’t Mark’s problem. 

When Seb turned up in the McLaren garage, Mark supposed he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was. After all, Seb had played a small part in mentoring Oscar on the down low, so it made sense if he wanted to watch from Oscar’s side of the garage instead of being in Ferrari with Charles, or Red Bull, or even Aston Martin. Even if Seb was definitely more of a mentor to Charles than he was to Oscar. Mark privately thought it made sense. “Seb wants to see what a real future champion looks like.” But that was unfair. Mark had nothing against Charles, not at all. He just had bias to Oscar, and only Oscar. 

Mark glanced at Sebastian across the garage, who was watching Oscar zip around the track, looking on with the same coldness he had inspired Oscar to drive with. The German was fixated on the screen. Oscar was leading the race, of course. It filled Mark with a sense of smug pride. His driver was the one dominating on track, not any of the young racers Seb knew, like Charles or Mick, that had both, at one point, been hailed as the next success story, but never really achieved it. Oscar would win. Mark would beat Seb. The thought was heady, invigorating. Mark would achieve what Seb couldn’t take away from him. 

But it did make him feel… odd. Uneasy. Seeing Sebastian so focused on Oscar’s progress. It was weird. Any time the two interacted, he felt weird, really. It was two completely separate parts of him clashing, and he didn’t like it. Oscar was Oscar. Seb was Seb. It should stay that way. Mark was different with one of them than the other. Oscar was something precious for Mark to protect, something to take care of and keep on track, something innocent. Seb was something that had always wanted to break Mark, and had forced Mark to try and fail at breaking him back, just so it felt all that sweeter for Seb when he finally won, and won for good. Whatever he had been through with Sebastian had changed Mark, not really for the better, and seeing the German brought out a side of Mark that he didn’t want to expose Oscar to if it wasn’t necessary. 

Mark found himself approaching Sebastian. The other man had probably been expecting him to. Maybe even wanted him to, but had been as stubborn as always and chosen to let Mark come to him. That was decidedly something Sebastian would do. But Mark went over anyway, standing by Seb and looking up at Oscar’s car on screen. Twelve seconds ahead. Not much could go wrong, surely.

“He’s improved.” Sebastian said coolly. The implication was there. Oscar had improved because of Seb, not because of Mark. That was fine. Improvement was improvement. One step closer to the championship, after all.

“He has. Thank you.” See, now Mark was really being mature. Thanking Sebastian for his assistance, and not pausing to try and cut his own tongue out for showing gratitude to that man. God, Mark really had lost his edge. 

Mark didn’t even scoff at the derisive hum Sebastian gave in reply. “He seemed to really benefit from whatever you told him. Thank you for doing that for me.”

“I didn’t do it for you , dirty old man. Piastri was so inexperienced under your management I had no choice but to step in. He deserves someone who can give him some helpful tips in life. God knows you aren’t that person.” Seb lectured, not taking his eyes off the screen. “You need to remember he’s not you. Definitely not you. Stop seeing him as your chance to win a championship and start seeing him as talent to be shaped. Nothing good will happen to him if you treat him like a younger version of yourself. That’s not what he needs. He’s nothing like you. More like me, really, but you’d rather not acknowledge that, I’m sure. And he doesn’t need constant help from you. He’s a talented young man, he should be treated as such.”

Mark knew that tone of Seb’s voice well, it was the one that told Mark to shut up and that the conversation was done, Sebastian getting the last word. It did seem just like a typical rant from the German about how stupid Mark was for whatever reason, on track, off track, as a manager, whatever. It was the longest thing Seb had said to him without a lot of prompting from Mark in years. But Mark couldn’t help but notice the undertone. Sebastian had said next to nothing about Oscar’s career, or the championship. Nothing about being on track, really. It was just a thinly veiled jab at Mark, in the form of shitty advice. Saying that Oscar couldn’t be anything like him and had to be more like Seb because Oscar was a championship contender. Really nice. There was some sort of feeling of dread in the pit of Mark’s stomach, though. Hearing the man himself admit that he thought Oscar was like Seb was offputting, to say the least. In a way. Like he said, Mark was definitely not interested in managing a mini Sebastian. He didn’t feel like getting any more gray hairs, at least not as fast as that would create them. But honestly, was Seb that far off with his statement? Oscar was certainly getting more… abrasive. Not to Mark, necessarily, but the boy definitely felt more comfortable voicing all of his thoughts and opinions now. Loudly. And occasionally, when Mark was talking at Oscar about whatever upcoming shit was happening, there was a glint in Oscar’s eye. One reflecting the same hunger, same confidence that Mark had come face to face with more times than he could count, more than ten years ago. 

Sebastian was fucking evil. Getting in Mark’s head like this again. Making him doubt his boy, his apprentice, his Oscar. 

His Oscar. That was weird. Really fucking weird. Mark mentally reminded himself to try and never think that phrase again. 

It still stood, though. Oscar was Mark’s driver. His pride. And Seb just couldn’t help but dig his tactics into Mark’s brain just like they used to be. Or maybe they never left. God only knows. 

Mark would just have to make sure Oscar stayed away from Sebastian. And he would probably have to stay away from Sebastian himself. Probably for the best. Wouldn’t want Sebastian corrupting anything further. Though, there wasn’t much damage he could do. And Oscar was doing much better. 

Maybe Mark could trust Sebastian. It wasn’t 2010 anymore. Sebastian had no reason to try and fuck with him. 

And if Mark glanced at the German to see his reaction first when Oscar crossed the line in first, well, that was Mark’s business only. 

Chapter Text

Mark was in his hotel room after Singapore, where Oscar had claimed yet another win. He was typing away on his laptop, trying to arrange a new sponsorship deal for Oscar, like the good manager he was. God, he really was good at his job. Every time Oscar crossed the line first, it was elation like Mark had never felt before. Every time Oscar thanked Mark for getting him new opportunities, every time Oscar showed that he was just that bit better than everyone around him. It was just evidence that Mark was the right manager for Oscar. No matter what Sebastian had to say about the matter. What authority did Seb have over anything, anyway? He didn’t manage anyone. He just pretended he knew everything and forced everyone to agree through sheer will and manipulation. Sebastian’s sway over Mark’s thoughts were just dirty tricks, Mark knew it. 

The hotel room was plain. Boring. Nondescript. The sort of room that high powered businessmen take their secretaries to so that they can fuck them without their wives finding out, while still making it seem like they gave a shit about whoever they were sticking their dick in. There was very little furniture in the room, besides the bed, a nightstand, a TV that only played shows in a language he didn’t speak, and a chair in the corner facing the bed. The lighting was slightly yellow, giving the sticky illusion of a shitty motel room without any of the cheap prices. It would do, though, for the sake of a few days watching Oscar. 

Was it pathetic? Very few other managers felt the need or desire to attend all of their drivers’ races. He hadn’t seen Ann in over a month. And Oscar… probably didn’t need him there. He was a grown man, after all, he didn’t need Mark looking after him all the time. But it felt more comfortable for Mark, to know that Oscar would have someone there with him in those faraway countries with screwed up timezones whenever he might need something. And there was hardly anyone more suited for the job than Mark. 

Plus, Oscar had certainly improved since Mark had started managing him, so Sebastian really was just spouting nonsense. Oscar wasn’t even in F1 when Mark became his manager. God, Oscar wasn’t even in F3. The boy would probably have stayed under Alpine’s thumb if Mark hadn’t had something to say about it. He might not have ever won a race. Definitely wouldn’t have gotten a championship with Alpine. So yes, Mark was happy to admit that he thought he was the best person to manage Oscar. Because it was true. If Sebastian was managing Oscar, Seb probably would have made every team so irritated with dealing with the both of them that Oscar got booted out of F1. Those sort of tricks just weren’t Oscar’s style. Sebastian would have corrupted him. Mark took pride in the fact that Oscar would never have to deal with anything like that from him . 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. A very cliche thing to think, definitely, but Sebastian was texting him now, out of absolutely nowhere, and he was probably the closest thing Mark would experience to a devil materialising in front of him. It was all very ominous. Just five words. 

Thank me later. Have fun. 

Fucking weird, right? 

Mark was definitely not pleased by how Sebastian had suddenly opted back into his life after the whole Oscar situation. But he’d just have to grin and bear it, he supposed, because Sebastian Vettel was not someone you could say no to, or get rid of easily. Nothing changes. Not really. 

When Mark heard a knock at his hotel room door, he nearly jumped out of his skin. There was only one person who knew where he was staying. And only one person who’d be knocking at his door unashamedly at past midnight on a Sunday. Not including Sebastian.

He let Oscar in, the boy brushing straight past him into his hotel room. It was a small thing to notice, but it was brash, more so than the boy usually was. Mark closed the door behind him and turned to face Oscar, who was standing expectantly in the middle of the room.

“Everything alright, mate?” Mark questioned. It was… strange, to say the least, having Oscar in his room.

Oscar just stared at him defiantly. Weird. 

“Um, good win, earlier, right?” Mark said, eyebrows raised uncomfortably. The staring was offputting. Oscar was looking at him in a way that was reminiscent of-

No. Not the time to think about Sebastian. Oscar was here, standing in front of him. Probably drunk or something. He didn’t know. 

“Mark, you need to stop messing around.” Oscar said cryptically. He was still giving him that look. The Seb look. He wanted it to stop. Kind of. It wasn’t the worst thing ever. 

“Messing around?” Mark asked. “If you’re unhappy with something, we can talk about it. You know that.” He sat down on the bed, indicating that he was very ready to discuss some sponsorship problem, or something like that. Oscar apparently had something else in mind.

“I know you want to fuck me.”

Oh.

What the actual fuck. 

Of anything that Oscar could have come out with at that moment, that was possibly what Mark was expecting least. 

That was inappropriate, that’s for sure. 

He definitely had to deny it. 

“You what, mate?” Mark frowned. Maybe he had misheard. Surely that was it. Oscar had said something different, and Mark was just sleep deprived enough to hallucinate the other thing. That made sense.

“You want to fuck me, Mark.” Oscar repeated. He said it in that infuriatingly calm and collected tone he always took on when he was talking to the media. It made Mark want to catapult himself out of the window. No, that wouldn’t work, it was one of those anti-suicide ones that only opened a tiny bit. His luck was really running out tonight. This absolutely couldn’t be happening. 

“Where have you gotten that idea from, Osc?” Mark tried to collect his thoughts enough to form real sentences, but his mind was running a million miles an hour. Thinking of a million ways to stop this, and a million reasons why none of them would work. Now he was speaking to Oscar like he was a child. That was definitely fucked up, in a multitude of ways.

“Seb told me.” Why was Oscar calling him Seb now? They weren’t close like that. Mark was one of the few who Sebastian permitted to use that nickname to his face. So why was Oscar using it? 

Then Oscar’s words actually sunk in. 

“ Sebastian told you?” Mark gawked. 

“He did.” The boy confirmed. 

Mark suddenly felt helpless. And stupid. How couldn’t he have seen this coming? He had known Seb for so long. He had been a victim of these games more times than he could count. And yet, the German still found ways to fuck with him, more than ten years later, when he wasn’t even in the same country as Mark. This wasn’t even the highest level of trickery Sebastian had unleashed on Mark. No, this was baseline. And he still hadn’t preempted this. What was wrong with him? This is why Seb always beat him. This is why Seb got all the championships and Mark got none. All Mark had wanted to do was give Oscar an edge over his competitors. He had told himself that Oscar wouldn’t get tainted with Sebastian’s antics. Told himself Seb had no power over him anymore. But here he was. Sebastian was playing with him, and Oscar was just a pawn in his fucking entertainment. 

Of course Seb would pick up on Mark’s stupid crush on his apprentice. Of course this was going to happen. From the second Sebastian stared at Oscar in Monaco with that same fucking look he had apparently showed Oscar how to do, Mark should have known this would happen.

“Seb is…” Mark scrambled to find words. “A shit stirrer.”

“Yes. That’s why you got him to teach me. But he taught me more than that. And he told me things. Things that I should have realised for myself, a long time ago. Back when you first started managing me, in 2019.”

No. Mark felt sick. “No, Oscar-”

“Mark. Do you want to spend your whole life just watching me succeed, or do you want to be involved?”

“I am involved. I’m your manager.” Mark reasoned. It was almost pleading. It was pathetic.

“And that’s not enough for you, is it?” Oscar continued on his tirade. He really did look like Sebastian now. The two shared almost no features, but there was something making Mark see both of them standing in front of him. “Mark. Don’t dance around it anymore. I know you want it. So do I.”

He was done for. Completely done. Oscar wanted him. He couldn’t. It would ruin everything. Nothing good could come of this. This was a method of torture, definitely. Forget being waterboarded, nothing compared to Oscar Piastri stood in front of you in horrible yellow lighting telling you exactly how much he thought you should fuck him. It was wrong, so wrong. Oscar was so young. So promising. 

It was all well and good if he thought about it, but actually doing it was something else entirely.

But then, before he could reply, Oscar was there. Kissing him. And, well.

Mark had never claimed to be a proud man. Or a good man. He had always known he would do anything Oscar asked of him, and Oscar really didn’t ask for much. Until now. Now he was asking for the Earth. And Mark would give it to him, happily.