Chapter Text
You tried, you really tried, you tried to hate the guy but he was just too good, too out of your league for you to even find the energy inside you to complain even a tad. Perhaps it was just the flame lighting in your heart, the slight jealousy that seems to ignite every time he's around. Whether in the paddock or out, you couldn't help but feel nearly ashamed of this…feeling that overwhelms every fibre of your being.
He looked over to you from the garage, locking eyes for a short moment. You brushed a few strands of hair from your face before turning around with a huff. Fishing your phone from your pocket, digging your face into it, pretending to find something interesting there. From your peripheral vision he waves, trying to get your attention but only fails to do so when you turn your back to him heading in the opposite direction.
You couldn’t handle the feeling in your chest as you found nothing within your emotions to explain what was going on. That ashamed disparity was an entirely different sentiment than the one that consumed you like a drug.
Sneaking one last glance at the driver before fully taking your leave you find yourself nowhere near the Red Bull section. Now right before the Mclarens garage.
“What’s up with you?” Your older brother spoke as he squished the red bull bottle directly into his mouth, water dripping down his chin. You stood back before you could be hit from his splashes of his sloppy drinking habits.
“I’m fine…” You said eyeing the male for a few disgusted beats. “Just uh..nervous, that’s all.”
“For?” He eyes you, suspiciously but not suspicious all the same.
You and Jenson were inseparable, granted the two of you were indeed siblings, but as children you were completely enamoured by the sport of racing. Your parents attempted to put you into other extracurriculars like ballet, dance, even hockey, soccer. But you always found yourself in one of Jensons old Karts in your free time. That at some point you were put into your very own. Proudly and fearlessly making your way up the ranks.
In your Torro Rosso get up, your helmet in hand, you hold out your opposite one for your brother, offering a dap up, a ritual that takes you back to your childhoods.
Jenson slowly nods as he brings you in for a tight hug, “Alright, but don't fumble this season okay?”
You let out a laugh at his absurd comment, it was your second season, still trying to find yourself a win. It’s not like you were finding yourself a World championship 2 seasons in. Impossible, obviously. “No, I’m winning this year, surely.” Patting the middle of his back once more, he let go, looking down at you with a proud glint in his eyes. Jenson never failed to amaze you, he was like a supportive parent in some way. A mixture of your mom and dad in one when it came to the track.
“I just want you to be careful, m’kay?” His eyes lock onto your similar ones, the atmosphere between the two of you becomes serious, nearly grim but you snap out of it, pushing yourself lightly from his hold. Acting as though you hadn’t suffocated under his gaze for those small seconds.
You walk backwards, placing your helmet over your head, giving him one last thumbs up. You didnt lift your visor but Jenson could surely sense your grin from behind the helm from your very exaggerated body expressions. Waving your hands crazily as you took your leave back to your spot on the grid.
You spotted your teammate, still gearing himself up mindlessly as he bumped to music, a routine he did prior every GP. It must’ve meant a lot since this was indeed the first race of the year. And as much as you did not wish to disturb him, you caught his gaze happily. Pulling up your two arms, as a way to show off your muscles, Daniel audibly laughed, a bit too loud for the sake of the rest of the Toro Rosso team.
“Good Luck!” His nickname for you rolled off his tongue as he finally approached, pulling one of his earphones out. “You ready for this year?” He questioned, his hands perched up onto his waist, standing tall and confidence oozing from his stance.
“I am so ready Daniel, I am getting that first win, I know it!” You fist the air as though you already won it all.
“Feisty!” He whistles, squeezing your forearm, a silent gesture of encouragement. “I won't doubt you for a second!” He assures, Daniel was a great friend of yours, on and off the track. He had a sort of energy around him that even if you crashed, DNF or even found yourself in 20th place by the end of the race and Daniel would pick out all the positives as difficult as it may be.
You laughed, enjoying his company, you weren't sure what you would do when it came to having a new teammate, would they ever be as enjoyable as Ricciardo himself?
Alas you brought yourself to your own car, one that fit you similarly to the gloves on your hand. Your car. The rush of being able to drive without worry about how fast you were going made your heart thump out of your chest. A feeling a regular person could never understand, an impossible feeling. The only people who could share this passion were the 19 other drivers surrounding you every week.
You drove up to your great starting position, well to you anyways, it was no pole but it was an amazing fourth spot. Jenson had bothered you about it since the day prior, genuinely impressed. Nearly convincing him that you could even get somewhere he wouldn't be able to.
With a deep breath, closing your eyes, and a small prayer you were off like light. You never fumbled the first turn, neither did you give up your spot for the entirety of the 58 laps. Sure, you lost it at your pit stop, but once you held that position you couldn't possibly let it stumble from your hold.
That sense of unsettledness that seemed to embed itself in you when approaching him earlier, nearly getting yourself caught with Jenson faltered. It was nothing now, a last thought in your mind. Tunnel vision running through your veins, if you could see your eyes you could imagine the way they were so intensified, an exaggerated flame burning through the visor.
Sometimes it's as though someone else fills your senses, an entity, another version of who you were holding the wheel. Muscle memory and years of practice is what fills you with pride through every turn, close call, and the words that leave your lips when communicating with your engineer.
The feeling of the car beneath you is like reaching for the stars. The impossible becomes possible- a rocketship nearing the atmosphere and once it’s able to float on its own it’s you flash a grin right towards that chequered flag.
When the race completed you hadn't even realized yourself, the way you ran right through the finish line with roars erupting- ringing in your ears.
“That’s P1 Button!” Your engineer bellows, almost like he doesn’t believe it as much as you do. But you could hear the rest of the team cheering you on, spewing nothing but congratulations in the background.
You could only believe this win is what got you tied up in that whole mess in the first place.
“Oh my god…” You whimper, clutching the wheel. A fog of relief is released. “Oh god…” There’s no words you could muster out. “Thank you, thank…”
Pushing your upper body out from the car, you felt a bit timid- engrossed in the sense of being surrounded by nothing but the thousands of eyes on you, you did it. You sat there for a moment, still unsure if it truly was for you, but when you glanced around you were sure.
Britain flags were thrown at your feet, punches were thrown into the air and tears were surely shed.
Don’t go and spoil the moment when it happens. Relish in the relief of a win.
Jensons words echo through your mind, and that is exactly what urges you to stand on your two feet, balancing on the car you call your best friend.
You didn’t know what to do at first. You wanted something sporadic- something to start off your official career in style. You never thought about what your celebration would be, you wanted it to come naturally.
And alas it had.
You stuck your arms in the air, arching your back ever so slightly, you stuck out two fingers, creating a peace sign for all to see. A little dance erupted from you as you jumped down to the concrete below.
You were sobbing uncontrollably. The hiccups and small moments you needed to lean on the wheel and take slow deep breaths did not last long.
Running over to your team you hugged them all close on the other side of the fence. Once they got a good grip they collectively raised you up, balancing on their arms, hands, shoulders you did the pose again. Your helmet being discarded at some point. Now everyone could see the tears streaming down your cheeks. The sheer joy and excitement of the events filled you.
—
You eyed the podium with nothing short of a giggle, your face pink with how hyper you were over everything. The overwhelming feeling dissipated as though it were never there to begin with.
A hand landed on your shoulder, squeezing supportively. Whipping yourself around you found your podium mate, Alonso.
“Good job out there, wasn’t expecting it from a rookie like yourself out there today.”
His words were meaningful, and you only wished to return the favour. You laughed and nodded, agreeing with the older male. “Rookies gotta stick by each other right?” You smirked, tilting your head playfully towards the Ferrari driver. “You did amazing out there Alonso, sorry I kept totally blocking you.”
Fernando found this comment hilarious, shaking his head as though he had taken you seriously, and while it was true, the apology was more so truthful he knew more than anyone how it can turn about on the track. But just like most of the drivers on the grid he knew how to separate the two from their daily lives and relationships.
Some certainly do not.
As the small conversation over the loud crowds of thousands surrounded you the 3rd podium winner approached the party.
His hand placed nearly ghostly on the middle of your back, as he clenched Fernando's shoulder supportively. “Nice job you two.” His German accent is absorbed right into your brain, ringing as to who it obviously was. Vettel.
Subconsciously you tear yourself away from the heat of his palms seeping through your back.
“Yeah…” You attempted to seem like nothing was wrong, that those feelings didn't come right back like the flip of a coin. “You did great out there! My overtakes were probably awesome!” You gloated which earned yourself a laugh from the three time world champion.
“Yeah something like that,” He says, his gaze lingering just a tad longer than it should. But something- or someone- yourself - said it was just overthinking. A habit that seemed to be always there when you needed it never.
Fernando exchanged glances between the two of you. You were nothing but a young driver to him, a rookie with a bright future ahead of you.
But Sebastian saw something different on the contrary to the Ferrari driver. Something he couldn't place, or maybe at the end of the day, he shouldn't place.
Without waiting another second the two went onto the podium, allowing yourself to collect your air around you and walk onto that middle step with nothing but pure glee. Achieving your first medal, hat- everything was just a magical moment you couldn't let up. You don't know if you could sleep that night. Knowing just how much fun- how much dancing you'd get up to until the sun came up.
—
Walking out of the paddock later that evening after all the craziness, the fans, the interviews you still haven't spoken to Jenson himself. But of course obstacles always seem to stand in your way. And that obstacle was always him.
“Are you partying tonight?” He hummed, his German accent poking out more thicker when enunciating certain words.
You glanced over, before sheepishly turning away. You couldn’t find the strength inside of you to face him, not now, not possibly ever.
“Sure am!” You give him a quiet awkward thumbs up rocking back and forth on your heels and toes. “So…so much partying will be done tonight…”
He chuckles, shaking his head. Fixing the Red Bull hat he wore over his fluffy blonde locks. “Well then I hope you enjoy yourself, really.” He winks, giving your shoulder one last squeeze before going on his way.
And all you could do was stand there, dumbfounded, you only moved to turn your body towards where the third placee had gone.
Yet he really was gone, like he was never there.
Huffing a breath of air, frustrated at your childish thoughts as you continued back to your original thoughts.
Jenson, right. You went to take another step but instead he found you. Engulfing you in a hug, not just one where it's short lived, like friends seeing each other to hang out. No, this was full of love, encouragement.
“Did you see that crowd!” He gestures his arms to the still very much buzzing crowd. “God! They went crazy- for you” And this is what started Jensons ramble of nothingness for the rest of the evening. Like the proud, responsible parent he was, he drank enough for the two of you, sure you were legal in Australia, but you never found the joy in drinking no matter how many times Jenson tried to get you drunk alongside him.
So you did what you do best, dance, dance until your legs were nothing but liquid mush.
Forgetting all the worries in the world for one night.
—
Dragging your brother back to his hotel room that evening was difficult, but thank god your supportive teammate and friend, Daniel, had been there to hold him up.
“He was not kidding when he said he would drink for you and him…” Daniel heaves, stretching his back as you made sure to leave him a scribbled note, water and medicine by his bed.
“I didn’t even know he could drink this much..” You quipped back, furrowing your brows in an exaggerated jokingly concern, shutting the door carefully behind the two of you.
“I think I've seen worse,” the older race driver points out.
The high of the evening was coming to a close. One you painfully wanted to remain for just a moment longer. But you knew with how your eyes began to droop and the yawning that just kept coming meant you had to cut it short at some point.
“You know…speaking of the party…he asked about you.” Daniel ran a hand through his now messy hair, just making it messier than it already was.
Your stomach could only drop at the mention of no one in particular's name, but it didn't take a genius to guess very well who he was referring to.
Perhaps it was your taste for acceptance that made you in awe- a sort of obsession- a desire to just indulge in that scarce sweet, savoury flavour…just once. A singular praise from the driver gets you, something no one else could suffice when it came to your desires. No one could scramble to the level he drags you by.
But it seems whenever you were put in front of him you were not short of a robot learning of their surroundings for the first time.
You cleared your throat, humming a response before parting your suddenly dry lips.
You didn't know what to say, how to say it, or even what anyone was expecting you to utter.
But that’s what left you back in your hotel room, never acknowledging Daniel's comment.
He could only guess what was up with you and the sensitive topic of the world champion.
But that following morning ruined your attitude further.