Well, it has happened. when there is too few fanfiction for your favorite pairing, you should write it for yourself right? So I actually did! I expect this ting to become about 7 chapters, but it'll probably end up longer since I'm bad at judging lenght of stories. Well Enjoy!
Pairing: FrancescoxLightning
It was unbelievable. 11 racecars, and only two had finished. Police and Ambulance cars were rushing down the track as number 1 and 95 stared down the whole scene, confused and upset. For a few seconds McQueen had been happy and victorious while the Italian racer, Francesco Bernoulli was cursing in his mother language, but both soon forgot about that when they realized something had happened. A quick sight at the huge broadcasting screens showed a gigantic chain crash.
Helicopters were flying over to the scene, reporters tried to get close enough to the two racers who actually did finish, police trying to keep the situation under control, the two winners being led away to a safer, quieter space, spectators scared and confused. Porto Corsa had became a mess and Miles Axelrod was held responsible.
McQueen and Francesco were quite poorly informed. They kept ranting and questioning the ones taking them away back to a nearly empty room without any windows to keep them safe. No one really knew what had happened so they couldn't take any risk. When McQueen started to settle down a bit and wait for what was going to happen next, Francesco became even more frustrated, as this was his worst race, not only for losing, but also the shame which was put on porto corsa. It would take a lot of time before a tragedy like this would be forgotten.
So much was going on in McQueen's head. He walked up and down the room as his eyes kept shooting to the agents, busy speaking with people outside on the telephone. And of course they all had to speak Italian, which McQueen did not really understand. He knew what Pizza and Pasta and some other words meant, but just some single words. He glared at his Italian friend, who was still way too busy with scolding everything which has caused this, including himself. Couldn't that jerk just put up with it and help him with this situation here?
One of the agents soon hung up the phone and called both of them together. "Signor Axelrod has 'a said that both of 'a you may choose your 'a own fuel for il next race" He told us with an even heavier Italian accent then Francesco used, which greatly bothered both of them. Francesco just replied in Italian about his preferred type of fuel and then started to hear him out on how this could have happened. McQueen ignored the Italians and started to think for himself what he should do, remembering what his friend Fillmore had said.
Francesco grew more angry as nobody answered him. A second and third agent came to calm him down and told him in Italian that his car was being inspected and his fuel was being replaced by his old brand. A fourth agent, speaking British English came to McQueen to discuss his choice of fuel. The agent tried to talk him off of his choice to use allinol but the American car was too stubborn. His car would be even further inspected to check for any factors enlarging the chance of an fatal accident.
After cooling down and drinking some water Francesco walked over to McQueen, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention "What are you 'a thinking, McQueen? Why don't you 'a use your own Benzina? Does McQueen need 'a some more attention from the media? As if you won't 'a be popular enough for the time being" The taller Italian asked with a slight grin on his face, which shortly disappeared due to the current situation. It was no laughing matter to him that McQueen was going to race on that weird explosive fuel.
McQueen turned around and just raised his shoulders, which Francesco disliked in this matter. "You know, my friend is an expert on biological fuel, and he promised me that allinol was completely safe" McQueen simply declared as he followed the agents back outside. "SO?" Francesco yelled "did your farmer friend said that?" he impatiently asked. "No the hippie did" McQueen replied with a great sigh. "YOU TAKE ADVISE FROM A HIPIE?" The formula racer really had some trouble with understanding things about friendship, so lightning ignored him further. Francesco wouldn't understand anyway. Francesco kept asking him until they got outside, where the press was waiting for them.
Francesco threw a last glare at his rival and friend before walking to the horde of Italian reporters from the national news. McQueen could take the international ones, who were all very interested in his victory, fuel choice and his experience. International reporters were the worst. He took a big breath and walked over to them as calmly as he could as he was being bombed by questions. Of course things settled soon as the reporters had heard the main lines. Some more national reporters had approached him and also asked him a few things, personal specific things about the other racers, his own team, friends, any question you could imagine. A bunch of Italians approached him, they worked at the grand prix and led him back to the main stage for his prize.
McQueen suddenly turned around. Was it just him or did he just hear his friend Mater? "Excuse me for a second-" he said as he ran in the opposite direction. He heard it again. "Mater? Mater?" he yelled out as he tried to see through the crowd. He thought he had spotted a tall, tan man at the back, which could easily be him, but the staff pulled on his arm "McQueen you a will be late, follow us" they said as they tugged him along. McQueen looked over his shoulder as he was brought to the stage, and no sign of his old friend was there anymore. It must have been his imagination. He really missed him. It just wasn't the same without his cheerful stupidity. A slight smile reappeared on his face.
They were already backstage where only Francesco Bernoulli was waiting for him, as they were the only racers to have finished. The taller Italian man threw him a sort of nasty look, it must sure be hard to be beaten at your home track, McQueen thought as he kept smiling. "How can 'a you smile, except for the a fact Francesco let you a win HIS race?" Francesco asked, still sounding like a proud Italian. Lightning again raised his shoulders but his smile faded a little "I was just thinking about Mater, some stupid things we did at home" he said slowly, "really if I had known there had been crashes I wouldn't have finished until I knew they were alright… I hate crashes. but yeah, at least I fairly beat you" he said while grinning at the other racer. "And you are 'a also putting yourself in danger" Francesco quietly added before he turned his attention to the Italian hostess on stage who had finished wrapping up the details of the crash and began to introduce the two winners. "Have fun with your attenzione McQueen" he said as he entered the –for him familiar- stage. After a great applause from his own people, and most of all his own mother, McQueen entered the stage with a nearly equal applause. "Ka-Chow!" He called out has he took the microphone to give another speech.
It didn't take long before the big crowd was gone after the speech, some more pictures of the great star and most of the fans were satisfied. McQueen was still chatting with some fuel experts who were quite suspicious while Francesco had jumped off the stage to chat with some friends. After one more hour McQueen suggested to go to the hospital with Francesco. Francesco actually thought it was a good idea and agreed. They would go to the hospital together to check up the other competitors.