Roundabout

Out on the Track

Technoblade pulled up his hair, waiting for Ranboo. After he'd covertly asked Tubbo and Tommy how Ranboo had faired in their race, he felt more confident about inviting Ranboo out for a secret training montage. The only one who knew what was going on was himself, Ranboo and Sam. Sam mostly so he could help cover for Ranboo and so he could keep watch since apparently the mechanic didn't trust Techno to be a "functioning adult" which was ridiculous. Technoblade was more than capable of watching Ranboo, it was just a matter of if he wanted to or not. Semantics.

The man in question was looking over Technoblade's car with far more detail than he would normally go into. Sam had practically adopted Ranboo as his own kid, so Techno understood why he was looking over every moving part with such scrutiny but come on, he'd already had it checked out when he first bought it.

"Ranboo's still not here." Sam commented as he closed the hood, looking over at Techno who was still waiting, twiddling his thumbs.

"He'll come, I doubt he'd back out now if Tubbo and Tommy's glowing reports are to be believed." Sam nodded, chuckling.

"Well he certainly did like it, that's for sure. If he wasn't one of us before, he sure as hell is now." Technoblade nodded, but worry still ate away at his core.

"He might not be ready for this sort of thing, though. I do go pretty hard and Wilbur told me that my training was a bit brutal. I just want him to be prepared in case something goes wrong, I can't drive with someone I don't trust." Sam nodded, taking off his gloves and tucking them safely into his bag.

"Ranboo's ready, Techno. I know it and you know it. I mean, if you already trust Wilbur's judge of character, right? If he think's Ranboo can do this, then he can do this, full stop." Technoblade sighed, leaning against his car, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

"Well I can still be worried, can't I? There are a million things that can go wrong and if he's an overthinker in the heat of the moment, then this won't work." Sam chuckled, giving Techno a playful shove.

"Yeah and you already do plenty of overthinking yourself. Calm down, he's coming this way and he'll soak up your negative energy. Just be willing to answer questions and remember what I told you. Positive reinforcement!" Technoblade shot Sam a glare as the mechanic ran to sit down on one of the metal bleachers that sat near the starting line of the track.

Ranboo was running down the stone steps that lead to the raceway, skidding to a halt in front of Technoblade. He was wearing a black and white baseball shirt underneath a Hawaiian print shirt with corgis on it, seemingly swapping out his normal, somewhat e-boy looking style in place of comfort.

"S-Sorry if I was late..." He panted, doubling over, putting his hands on his knees. Technoblade shrugged, spinning his keys around on his pointer finger.

"'s fine. You weren't late. Anyways, let's get some things down before we start. 1, there are going to be points in races where you won't have time to think so you need to just do. That's mostly why you're here, to build up those instincts. 2, according to "sources" I can be a pretty brutal teacher, so don't be afraid to tap out if you need time. And Ranboo, I'll say this again. Drag racin's dangerous. You can back out if you-"

"No!" Ranboo said quickly, before covering his mouth. "I-I mean... I really want to do this Techno, I'm sure of it. This is what I want to do." Technoblade considered him for a moment longer before nodding.

"Well, that's all I need to here. Sam's sittin' there just to make sure nothin' goes wrong. Shall we get started?" Techno asked, gesturing to his car. Ranboo nodded eagerly and Techno smirked. This would be fun.

***

Ranboo was very thankful he'd pushed to get his driver's license as soon as humanly possible. It was a necessity, since for a good chunk of his life he lived out of a tricked-out RV, not staying in towns for a long time. On longer drives when he could, he'd help his father with driving and even had driven the beast once on his own.