Chapter Three

Friday – Free Practice

Heero sat in his car, the monitor above him, his helmet remained on his head but his visor was up so that he could see the data and images on the screen in front of him. It was the third session of free practice and so far his car felt good – better than good, each corner the car responded exactly as intended, the ease in which it was required to go around the circuit making him feel like it was his weekend. Finally. A Monaco Grand Prix victory.

He was out pacing most of the field by a significant margin and had been quickest in first and second practice. The sun seemed to shine ever so slightly brighter as he sipped on water to replenish lost fluids and waited to decide whether to go out onto the track one final time. He didn't need to but as he had dominated the two earlier practice sessions, Heero wanted to make sure that tonight's story was about his racing rather than the tabloids discussing his deteriorating relationship with his teammate. Being fastest in all three free practice sessions would enable that – the story then turning to his speed and skill rather than his clashes with Duo Maxwell.

The team was unhappy – that much Heero knew as he watched the live feed from the circuit. There was to be a "sit down" tonight, a sort of reconciliation between them was being expected and the team boss had flown in to mediate. Quatre Winner was the son of the owner of the team but the father had little dealing with it anymore – the oil magnate focusing on his company at large and allowing his son to take over the more exciting and glamorous side of his company in Winner Racing. Quatre Winner did attend all the races but usually flew in on a Saturday, though this being Monte Carlo it might have moved his schedule up, but he rarely met with the drivers exclusively unless at a team event. It was a rare occurrence and it showed how much the rivalry had managed to piss off the team if they were going to be forced to play nice in front of the boss.

For a second, Heero wondered if Duo would be just as annoyed about this meeting as he was and his eyes flickered back to the screen to see his teammate's time on the first sector of the circuit. The street circuit, just as all circuits, was divided into three sectors that times were displayed for and Duo's black, white and yellow car was about to go through the first time marker. The camera crew were focusing on his car, one of the only leading drivers on the circuit at the time, and Heero could see the distinctive black helmet, a green scythe down one side in a tattoo style pattern – much flashier than Heero's own that just had the sponsor details on it.

The time went green on the bottom hand side of the screen. Green meant faster. Five fucking tenths faster.

"Only five tenths," he heard in his ear.

Trowa was on the pit wall where he should be – the monitors would be all in front of him and he would be getting the most up-to-date data – more so than Heero's own. Five tenths of a second did not sound a lot in the context of time. It was the blink of an eye, a tiny fragment of a moment but for a Formula 1 driver every tenth counted – especially in practice or qualifying where a few tenths of a second could separate the top five drivers.

Over the spell of the race it became more about seconds, minutes even between the drivers but during a race there was strategy, tires, fuel levels, human error and safety cars that all accounted for the differing times and bigger distances between each car's time. In the practice, in qualifying there was just the time posted and it was all that mattered.

In the scheme of the weekend, practice didn't matter as it was all about getting a feel for the car and ensuring that the vehicles were ready and able for the more important qualifying session on Saturday and then the race on the Sunday. However, to Heero it seemed like it did matter as he felt the weight of having something to prove and Duo had already managed to infuriate him once today by being in his hotel gym and being just there when he had decided to ignore him.

Heero had been woken up by the phone at 5.00 a.m, the polite French woman on the other line informing him it was his wake-up call and he had managed to grunt in response. It was not entirely the best way to be woken, especially when he realised the crusty stickiness that covered his stomach, thighs and groin area from his jerking off fantasy. The night before, after coming against expensive Egyptian cotton sheets, Heero had only rolled over from the worst of the wet spot and fallen asleep, relaxed and sated. It was only in the morning, waking up with dried cum on his skin that he felt annoyed at himself, annoyed at Duo Maxwell for just damn existing and annoyed that he'd acted like the horny teenager he had been rather than the adult who could have every sexual need met without much effort.

He'd showered, washing away evidence despite the fact he had an hour's gym session, and pledged that he would just damn ignore Duo for the duration of the weekend. The duration of the season if he had to. He was often described as the "Ice Man" along with the "Bad Boy" and he could exploit both of those nicknames and just not let Duo get to him – unable to fathom why he did in the first place.

For a moment, he contemplated calling his sports psychologist, one of the many things that his father had said was a joke in the world of modern Formula 1 racing, but he figured that she would probably provide him with more questions than answers. Dr. Po had already discussed his need to dominate, his need to be so competitive, the level of expectations, the conflict he felt over the relief of his father's death at no longer having his over-bearing presence attending races and the grief of dealing with him no longer at his side during weekends. He could imagine her now, even as he dried himself off from the shower, telling him that his sexual fantasy of Duo was probably some deep-seated need for control that had been established from his childhood. Or something. It always went back to his father.

He supposed it always would. That he'd been to races in the womb, travelled the world his entire childhood and when it had come to that moment when his father could put him in a race cart – he'd done just that. Kuzuki Yuy had stood there for each race victory, Heero's journey from the carting world to the world of Formula 3 and then 2 until he found himself signed with the small Formula 1 team Alliance, driving his first season and ending up finishing regularly in the bottom five. The car had not been that good, the team not as financially stable as Winner Racing but still his father had critiqued each race, each performance and each moment that Heero's car had suffered from the infamous reliability problems of the lower level teams.

It had not been the best first season and he remembered it with some bitterness – it had done enough though, by then Merquise had moved from Winner to OZ Racing and that had led to him being offered the spot in that team. He supposed he had to pay his dues, he did that, one season of fighting a car around twenty circuits and trying to make a name for himself without every breath about him being "Heero Yuy, son of five time World Champion Kuzuki Yuy." His three seasons at Winner Racing had started to erase that – his first being his World Championship winning season. The second being his rivalry with Merquise that ended with his broken ankle and this season was the one he could finally prove something. His father gone, he'd paid his damn dues and now it was meant to be his time to walk out from that Kuzuki Yuy shadow and define himself as his own man. Silence his critics about his first Championship being a "fluke" and a "one off" and become one of the greatest drivers in history.

It was just his damn luck that this was the season Winner Racing brought in a cocky rookie from NASCAR.

Heero had dressed in his workout clothes and made his way down to the hotel gym and started his usual intense hour long spell of exercise in the hope that it would erase any emotional conflict and return him to his usual level of focus. Of course, when he arrived it got fucked over in two minutes as he saw Duo was already in the gym, running on a treadmill, ear buds trailing down to his short pockets, a heart rate monitor clipped to his chest and a wrist monitor on his pulse. It seemed that Duo hadn't noticed his arrival and Heero decided that he could work on some different equipment before the treadmill and ignore Duo for the duration in the gym.

They were always going to run into each other, Heero knew that logically, as they were teammates and the team had booked rooms in this particular hotel. So it made perfect sense that Duo would be in the gym. Just he'd maybe expected the whole cocky attitude meant he was more of a slacker than himself – less dedicated. Less determined.

It seemed every time he tried to ignore him, he couldn't – the more he tried, the more intense the need to watch. And even though they had only shared one glance the entire time in the gym, Heero had felt those blue eyes drift to him and he felt his own gaze lingering on Duo despite his intent and it brought with it the images he had in his head from the previous night that did not entirely help him prepare and train. Those thoughts did not help him now, sitting in his car, in the heat of the garage, waiting to decide whether to go out again in his own vehicle.

Heero watched the feeds as Duo's car effortlessly took corners, the helmet moving sharply from side to side on each corner as the power of 3 or 4 G forces hit as he rounded the trickier elements of the track. The tires rode up the edge of the curbs in order to gain a precious few tenths of a second until it went through the famous Tunnel, the camera angle changing and it would only be a few seconds until the next sector would be complete and the time would be posted on the screen in front of calculating blue eyes.

"He lost time," Trowa said in his ear. "He didn't take the Hairpin well."

"He could make it up."

Heero had nothing else to say as the time had flashed up green despite him losing two tenths around the second section of the circuit. It still made him the fastest driver on the track today. Faster than any of Heero's times and though Duo could still lose it on the last sector, the fact that he had managed to maintain a lead over Heero's own time for the circuit so far showed a level of skill and ability that was unsettling. It was meant to be his damn weekend.

The team mechanics were stood underneath a large screen, a few anxiously looking on at Duo's progress and it was not hard to see that despite Duo being the recent addition to the team most of the mechanics had a preference for the American – the charming one, the funny one, the one that got to know people's names and bothered to talk to them. Heero knew he wasn't a team player – Trowa had mentioned it on occasion, that he should get his head out of his ass as it was better to have the mechanics on side than be a douche but still, Heero found it hard to play along and it was inevitable that they would all like Duo better. He could deal with it.

He turned back to look at his own monitor as the Winner Racing car approached Rascasse and then went straight through the Anthony Nough corner immediately afterwards, his head jostling from side to side and then finally the car was on the last straight – the finish line in sight. The final lap time.

The car crossed the finish line without the fanfare that would happen after qualifying or the checkered flag of race victory – there was no sign of celebration from the cockpit as Duo's car crossed the line and his time flashed green, confirming him temporarily as the first placed driver.

"You want to go back out."

It wasn't a question from Trowa, it was a statement, even as Heero's eyes narrowed looking at the times of the other drivers and his own. A few of the other better drivers had posted decent times but still their pace was not competitive against the Winner Racing vehicles. He didn't anticipate that he could be knocked from second place with the drivers currently on the track and the fact that there was little time left in the practice session meant he had to make the decision of whether to go back out immediately. He saw Mueller's time on the screen – fourth, Chang's third and Otto seventh but three tenths comfortably behind.

Yeah, Heero wanted to go back out but only to prove something and he sure as shit didn't know if he would be able to at that moment. And it didn't matter. He'd had three good practice sessions – his car was perfect, his times were good and Duo had done one good lap – he could let him have that.

He made his decision, removed his steering wheel and hopped out of the car, taking a second to take off his helmet and remove his balaclava. It was no use going back out – his time could be used analysing his own lap, Duo's lap and working out how his teammate had managed to cut those precious tenths off his time around the circuit and use his own style to fuck him over when it did matter. Claim pole position at the front of the grid. Be like his father twenty five years before.

"No, let him have tonight, Trowa," Heero said.

There was a sharp inhale of breath but he didn't hear his race engineer's response as he removed the small ear piece and threw that back towards the cockpit of the car. It would take Trowa a few minutes to find him as he left the garage since he was on the pit wall still – probably anticipating another lap from the former World Champion but instead, he was unzipping his race suit down to his waist and walking towards the trailers that made up the temporary day time escapes for the drivers between practice sessions. He would leave before the other car arrived back, before he could see the triumphant Duo Maxwell gloating over his fastest time. In his head he could already imagine the smile on his face, that quirk of lips, the way his hair would be sticking to his face due to the sweat and heat – looking very much like Heero thought he'd look just fucked but he wasn't going to give him one more damn thought.

He would be civil at the "sit down" – he'd let Duo have his glory today and after studying his laps and car data, he would crush him tomorrow in qualifying.