Every race started with a kiss. Before helmets were lowered over heads and cockpits entered, Dean and Castiel would always spend a private moment alone in the locker room for the Scuderia Ferrari drivers. Whispers of luck would be exchanged and the soft touching of lips would signify the beginning of the next race.
Monaco's race didn't start with a kiss. Monaco's race started with raised voices and angry accusations. It's just a silly petty thing; a tiny conflict that would be best left out of the cockpits, at home where tensions weren't running high. However, this race is Dean's only chance at the championship and Castiel is being frustratingly obtuse. Sharp words are exchanged in the locker room and, when they step into their pit garages, the teams can sense that something is wrong.
Muttered voices are the only sound in the strangely quiet garage. The cars have already been taken to the grid for the setup so Dean and Castiel stand around, keeping cool out of the hot sun, and staunchly avoiding each other. Thankfully, Dean is starting up in second and Castiel is down in sixth so they're not near each other on the grid. It really makes no difference though. Dean's body is still rigid with stress and anger and, down the hot tarmac, Castiel is glowering at his car. Neither give an interview.
"The lights are out and away they go! Welcome to the start of the Monaco Grand Prix!"
Tires screech on the track as the cars pick up speed and head off towards the first corner. A small plume of smoke is visible in the air.
"Looks like Fitzgerald locked up for a second there. Those Mercedes' have been having trouble with the starts all season."
Halfway through the race, Dean locks up around one of the turns, cutting up another driver, and almost causes a collision.
"What on earth was that?! Winchester is certainly driving very erratically today. Not sure what's going on there."
The team radio gives no indication of what could be going through Dean's head. His voice is collected, almost calm, as he responds to his angry engineer. Tires are obviously an issue, what with the patch on his front left growing bigger after his lock up. A pit-stop is demanded but Dean sails past the pit lane, his comfortable lead on second place stretching further and further.
"Looks like Winchester ignored his pit stop. He obviously thinks the tires can last longer."
Then, coming into turn six – the Grand Hotel Hairpin – everything goes wrong. Lacking grip on his front tyres, Dean enters the corner at a speed much faster than would be advised.
"Winchester takes turn 6 very sharply, what is going on in that boy's head today? And - Oh! Oh, my god, he's spinning out of control. He's fighting for it but..."
The Ferrari team watch the television screens with sinking hearts as they see Dean career into the side wall of the track, scattering dust and gravel. Almost instantaneously, a safety car pulls out towards the end of the pit lane. Already everyone knows that the crash will affect the race.
"What's going on? Can't quite see what's happening on our tiny screens in the control box. Marshalls seem to be running over. Surely Winchester should be able to climb right out of that! Are those medics?"
The camera focuses on the cockpit and the Ferrari team draw in a shocked breath when they see Dean's body. It's not moving.
It was obvious the race had just finished when Cas rushed into the hospital room where Dean had been taken – he was still wearing his overalls and his hair was all mussed up as if it had just come out of his helmet. He was instantly beside Dean's bed, hovering over him, his face contorted into a mix of pain and anguish.
When Dean finally blinked open his eyes, Cas was right there. Choice words were exclaimed, curses thrown at the stupidity of Dean's behaviour. Castiel's voice wavered and almost instantly after his exclamation, he burst into tears and buried his head in Dean's shoulder. Dean's movement was almost unconscious, just reacting from muscle memory, as he wrapped his arms tightly around Castiel and just held him.
If anyone else had been in the room, they would have heard Dean's low, gravelly voice murmuring reassurances and declarations of love. They both knew racing was a dangerous sport and that an accident could happen at any point but the reality of the situation had emphasised the fragility and mortality of their lives. Dean's near-death experience discarded all memories of their argument – a petty thing.
Cas stayed beside the bed all night, not moving a muscle. Dean later found out that Cas had come third in the race but hadn't even stayed to collect his trophy on the podium.
"It looks like I won't be winning any championship this year, Cas" Dean had joked during his stay in hospital, "You'll have to do it for me."
And he did.
It was strange watching Cas drive from the pit wall, as opposed to being out there in front or behind him. Dean could almost see himself in the way Cas drove. Almost. The manoeuvres that he and Cas had worked on together were almost identical but there was this extra quality to Cas driving that made him breath-taking to watch. Dean's replacement - the test driver for Ferrari was good but not as good as Cas.
He won the next race, two weeks after the crash, in a battle between Mercedes' best driver Garth which had Dean's heart in his throat. The next race was easier - pole position converted into a win. It wasn't exciting but it did put cas very close to Garth's mercedes which was now first in the championship. The race after that, the second to last in the championship, Cas came third but, thanks to Garth Fitzgerald spinning off the track on the first corner, he was now in the lead by a minuscule margin. It was all up to the last race.
Dean was there in the pits on track day, kissing Cas before he jumped into his car, before retreating to the stands with his family who had all come to watch. The race was nail-biting. After a puncture from some debris put Cas in 18th place, Dean almost couldn't bear to watch. His hands were pressed to his cheeks, ready to cover his eyes if anything happened. His manager, Bobby, sat beside him, hand clasped to his shoulder, as captivated as Dean was.
A lock-up on the second to last lap had the crowd groaning in agony but Dean knew Cas could do it. And he did it, deftly manoeuvring up through the pack to come in second - just enough points to win.