Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

You sat there, paper cup in hand, the black coffee swirling, you watched it, more enthralled with the mini tsunami you were creating than the meeting before you.

8 AM, too early for any soul to even comprehend their own thoughts. Not after the busy night you had last night. Not to mention that at these meetings you were rarely called on, no one asked you of your opinion, no one wondered about your wellbeing. And while sure, you would be a bit upset about that on the offhand times, you were oddly thankful to not be spoken to so early in the morning.

Sebastian sat in front of you, he seemed tired yet alert all the same. Shooting you a cheshire smile. Webber next to him, while Daniel opposite. Each side holding a RedBull team. The juniors and seniors.

Everyone albeit did recognize your win, patting your back supportively, or weirdly ogling you like Mark Webber. But you just shrugged it off as his Australian mannerisms being different from your own...well Daniel did not act like that…but Mark was what…37? so…perhaps an old man thing.

The meeting dragged on and on, going over plans, promises they’d make, overviews of changes.

“And as we are aiming for both the world and drivers championship this year, sometimes you gotta cut corners to get where you want.” Christian’s words pique your interest. Looking up from your cup, you raise a brow, curious.

Sebastian suddenly became all the more alert, sitting straighter in his chair. His hands clasped in front of him.

“Mclaren can very much be our contender, and with all due respect,” A jab to you was coming, you knew it, the way Horner snapped his attention over to you. The sensation of a knife digging into your chest. “We are not about to allow Mclaren to become someone who can out point us, especially the other Button.” Your stomach sank, the topic of this meeting was clear.

“You want a title one day?” Horner glances outside, not a cloud in sight. “Well of course you do, Button.” He chuckles to himself as though the whole room knew the answer to his rhetorical question.

Who wouldn’t want to win a world championship?

“Get Jenson to tell you something- anything about their plans, report back, tell us everything and we could possibly guarantee a spot for you here.”

The opposite team's principal stood behind the Senior drivers, the morning sun peeking through the half open blinds, he glowed as though he were the high priest.

Sebastian eyed you, so carefully, so closely, it hurt more than the knife through your chest.

It hurt worse.

You couldn't tear away your gaze from his.

A dare fluttered in the air.

Not one Christian started, no.

A dare Sebastian Vettel did.

“I dont think this is appropriate to ask of-”

“And the meeting is adjourned!” Christian Horner wasn’t taking no for an answer and neither was the team. Your team. Tost throws you a somewhat guilty expression- like it was out of his hands.

You stood, nearly breathless, a cat catching your tongue- a thousand thoughts running through your mind. You felt betrayed, taken advantage of, not only for your familial connections but simply thanks to the fact you were a woman. The only woman on this track.

Your manager tried to speak to you, but you didn't respond. you didn't want to and weren't going to. There was no need. This entire ordeal already went past his judgement. Not even reaching you until that morning.

Daniel even tried to speak to you, saying how crazy that entire task was. But seeing you in such a horrible mood about it convinced him to leave you to your own devices. It’s like he didn’t even care that bad.

But there was one person you weren't leaving alone. Your face is pale, sweaty palms and an expression of determination. you found him, in an office right down the hall.

You and the three time world champion were not friends per se. Jenson and Sebastian were far closer. Only ever interacting for fleeting moments, meetings, get togethers, parties. You never even knew him properly. before this past year. But every single time you could never seem to maintain the simplest of conversations.

Why? Well- you didn’t know. It was like an allergic reaction, your tongue swelling, too large for your mouth. Your voice turning raspy, your throat itchy. Your face is puffy with a dusted rose hue.

You were timid, sure, naive maybe, but you couldn't just let yourself be pushed around. Not like this. Nor would you allow this to happen at the expense of your own family. Your image, your job.

You could imagine the news outlets, your name stained- Jenson’s too. The misogynistic comments roll in, everything you’ve ever dreamt of slips right through your fingers. Down the drain and into oblivion.

You waited there, your nervous senses overcoming your veins. That pool of uncertainty is drowning you. That sentiment of shame. Everything Sebastian did to you was involuntary. Like he knew he was eating your pride from the inside out. Neither of you had really talked much prior, you enjoyed remaining in your own bubble. Keeping far from the world champ.

You aren’t even sure he’s aware of what he does to you. He’s a drug, with a million side effects.

He opens the door, his face dropping in surprise. He nearly walks right through you! “Ah, you’ve come to talk?” It doesn’t take long for the demeanour to change though. It’s like he was expecting this.

You parted your lips, your heart was thumping out of your chest, you swore he could hear it loud and clear. Oh how embarrassing.

“I don’t want to do it.” The words were not as firm as they should’ve, but they were all you could muster in his presence. The string that pulled you however he wished. He saw nothing more than a young girl he could use at his own expense of his fourth title. That’s how you saw it anyway.

“Well you’re going to have to, I’m not sure why we are having this conversation, you couldn't even seem to hold one yourself just last night.” He winked his tongue ever so slightly peeking from behind his perfect teeth.

He was right, you had to, you did not want to lose your seat before the season ended, but what kind of sister would you be? Jenson is the reason you are even doing what you do. All you could think of was what Jenson’s reaction could possibly be in your position. Would he shut it down before it was even brought forth?

Or would he be furious with you? Snitch and never speak with you again? Exiling you from your very own family.

Sebastian says your name, his slight accent catching your attention. “Sometimes you must put yourself first, that's why I’m doing this after all.” He gestures to nothing in particular. And while he may have come off persuasive to himself you were the opposite of convinced.

As the deer in headlights you were, you only shook your head, not letting up, “I wont get anywhere- don't you get it? How is this me putting myself first?” Pointing to your head as though it were obvious. Sebastian only returned his response in a confused glance. Giving you a once over as if you were the crazy one here.

He never really did understand you, the younger Button. Jenson was more…open, expressive and while you were too- he couldn't see as much Jenson as he could see in you. You were a silent receptor, the only English words he could find to describe your almost strange nature.

“Nevermind…” And with all the confidence it took to even slightly stand up for yourself in this conversation fell short when he didn't understand it off the bat.

What had you done wrong to bring this luckless curse upon you?

You bawl your fist by your side. Your cheeks were warm with anger, your ears you could imagine were worse.

Sebastian on the other hand seemed to be enjoying this torment. Vettel didn't understand you, no. Rather something inside his messed up mind wanted too. Which is when he decided he surely wouldn't leave you alone until this entire season was over. You were a drug with all the right side effects.

An opposite reaction with the same impending doom.

“Then we make a deal.” You finally decided, no particular aim in mind. You weren’t sure what could be your deal, what you could get out of this. But you knew one thing was certain. Christian Horner wasn’t looking at you for next year's seat. All eyes were on Daniel which was why he didn't even seem worried for his seat in the meeting.

It was predetermined.

“Oh?” That piqued his interest, because just like yourself, he knew you had nothing to bring to the proposition table.

And that’s when it hit you, like a double decker bus. If he was going to be selfish, so were you. You couldn’t let this “spy” business go to waste.

An obstacle turned opportunity.

If Sebastian could make you this insecure driver all the time he was around, why not string him along your very own antics?

“Put in a word.” You speak, much clearer this time around, your voice not faltering, cracking, not even wavering in the slightest. “I know they want Daniel- for next season, put in a word, ensure my seat over his, and we have a deal.”

“Did you forget what Christian said back there?” He says it as if you’re dumb. But you’re far from dumb, no.

“He didn’t promise any seat- did he?” There’s a vein poking out of your temple, and attitude dripping venom. “Possibly just means stupid hope, you will promise, that seat”

“This is gonna get pretty complicated don't you think? I’m not sure I can do all that.” He was addicting, you could listen to him speak any day- and while sure you were angry with him in the moment, there was just something you couldn’t place. That shameful feeling down to your gut. Almost nauseating.

“I didn’t start this, Vettel.”

“Good point, Kleine” Not that you particularly knew what those words meant, but regardless you stuck your hand out, binding the deal between the both of you.

Selfishness fueling you both.

—

If you hadn’t forgotten the promise you made you would have because all you woke up to the next morning was the loud blaring of your phone. You checked the time first up in the corner, 7:35…

Seven in the morning.

The number wasn't saved which made you slam it right back into your bed, quickly becoming lost within the piles of comforters weighing over your body.

Until the number called again…then thrice…

Come the fourth time you groaned into your pillow, sitting up, running a hand through your mess of hair.

“Who is this?” Were the greeting words you provided to whoever dared to ruin your sleep.

“Kleine’s really asleep, get up we have work to do…lots of it”

Your eyes shoot open, the rumble of that thick sweet accent, you drink in.

“Sebas-Vettel!” You stumbled over your words rather embarrassingly. “God, look at the fucken time!” You groaned, finding some sort of confidence in speaking to him, perhaps over the phone was always easier than face to face communication?

“You want that seat? You better have some sort of information for that race in an hour” He clicks his tongue, genuinely believing you would have gotten something by now.

A breath escapes until it forms into a yawn.“Yeah maybe later Vettel…Not now…”

He cleared his throat, bringing you back to the phone call. “No- now or the deal is off” And with that the 25 year old shut the phone right on your face. And you tried to do it first.

You still had 5 days to come up with something before Malaysia. At first you debated on lying, making up something to not actually throw your brother under the bus. But something told you that Sebastian and the RedBull team would find a way to debunk it faster than you could say it.

Jenson was your brother, and while you could go back and forth on this forever you needed to make that internal decision. Perhaps he wouldn't be so upset if he knew the truth? If he knew that you were doing this for a seat at RedBull?

But what about Daniel? What would he think of you? Would he understand? He deserves it more than you..maybe…but everyone was your enemy at the end of the day, even your own teammate.

Chapter Text

Splashing water on your face one last time, you finally took your leave from your hotel room. Jenson had planned for breakfast while still in the city. Something fun before you had to really go back to nothing but sitting in a car in Malaysia.

Your brother sat there, an expensive pair of sunglasses over his nose, and a bright grin plastered across his features, driving the two of you around town. You didn’t exactly know where he was driving to, but he supposedly heard from Daniel and Webber that there were a few must see places around.

“What if you really got your championship your second season in,” He said your name as he glanced at you in the passenger seat. His laugh bouncing against every wall of the car.

“Yeah and what if you were right behind me?” you asked, twirling your hair between your fingers. You didn't realize the actual deep meaning when it came to the words that slipped out into the essence of reality.

For one- two- three beats- Jenson shrugged, “Not sure what I’d do, I got my championship, I’m basically set for life but- we are on two different teams…I wouldn’t want to sacrifice a potential chance for another, just for you- I say it's fair game, y’know?”

His response made you almost feel a tad at ease, relieved. Then he would understand. You fixed your posture in the car, agreeing with his words. He was right, every man for themselves out there. Obviously.

Parking up at a breakfast spot, It was in a more- not so busy spot in the city, probably the other drivers came here for some sort of media, fan protection. You’d note it for next time.

Jenson sat you down, finally removing his glasses. His eyes immediately landed on yours. You were 14 years apart, a rather large age gap for siblings but he practically raised you, and was your biggest nightmare. He could read you, so blatantly like you were a picture book, not even a chapter book. Everything is outright displayed.

“You don’t seem fine…somethings off…” He quirked his head, as though trying to get another angle on your mood.

You placed your hands in front of his face, blocking his view of you. Fear overcoming you as though he would pin it all right back, read your mind and see the schemes you were being put up to behind closed doors. “How many times until I can convince you I’m fine, I am literally fine.” You scrunch your features together, making a face in hopes to get him to waver. Yet he doesn't.

Not until your lord and saviour waitress comes by asking for your drinks and when the meal was placed before the both of you nothing but the sounds of munching filled the little corner of the Aussie restaurant.

“My teams’ thinking of some plan, and it's kinda stupid…” He says a mouth full- and for the first time in your life you were hearing your brother being helpful towards your cause.

“Oh yeah?” You say, trying to seem not as interested as you truly were on the crucial topic at hand. You were sure he caught your perked attention though.

Jenson bops his head a bit as he swallows the massive bite. “Yeah, next race they want to give Checo a chance- and yeah he’s a good guy and all but I wanna win a race earlier than never, I mean after your win I've been feeling hungry for my own.” The older Button earnestly expresses. “So if I’m honest, I’m gonna fly right by Checo when I have the chance, I’m not gonna let them boss me around.”

You got the information you needed- well for the time being. Knowing Sebastian's selfish actions he would juice you for more.

Then again there was that horrible guilt reaction. Jenson’s feeling this way over your win. And your win could have possibly been the reason you even stood between the two race drivers. He wanted a win, but here you were, expected to go run along to the RedBull senior team and snitch on Jenson like your bond and respect for him was none existent.

And as breakfast continued on, you allowed Jenson to ramble on- most likely because he figured he could trust you with this information. You both were in the same field, yet family. That’s what made you different from the other drivers and their teammates.

While you had a bullet full of information you needed to get Sebastian to promise his end of the deal. Which is how you found yourself later that evening staring down the unsaved number from that morning.

You assumed he got your number from one of the numerous race drivers group chats you were in so it didn't surprise you when you went back to check as your suspicions were right.

In a pair of sweats, a sweater, something comfy to help you get over this daunting confession.

Perhaps you were overdue a religious visit to any priest of any kind. Spewing out your sins can help you feel better.

Before you did anything you carefully made contact with the older male.

Vettel.

Your thumb hovered over the call button for as long as a minute.

Until you felt your phone buzz in your hand.

Surprised, a side of you was glad he called instead of you staring at your phone much longer.

You let it buzz a few times before wearily answering.

“So?” Straight to the chase, did anyone know how to say hello anymore?

“Hi to you too…” You said in a soft tone. But when you were only met with no response, you just internally groaned before beginning what you had practiced in your mind since the drive back. “I’ll give it to you, unless you can’t guarantee my seat is secured.” A drip of harshness fell through a bit more aggressively than you had anticipated.

“At the end of the day this isn't up to me, your task is.” Sebastian retorts on the other side, you tried to make out his whereabouts, you were nosy but maybe it could tell you more about him. About who he was.

“And this task could be about you, yet it’s not” A snarky response from a snarky girl. “Prove it Vettel, and I’ll find out whatever you want like a genie with unlimited wishes.” The second you said what you said you could only silently facepalm yourself. How corny, how stupid how…funny?

Sebastian laughs on the other end, it could be exaggerated, making fun of you, but the German laughs anyways. “Very funny Kleine, but I don't know how I can prove it, how about we talk about this further over…some drinks?” Some sort of malicious intent is hidden behind his smooth, effortlessly flirtatious words.

You stare at yourself in the mirror of the hotel dresser.

“I don’t drink.” You said with a deadpan look as if he could see your reaction.

“Well that’s boring, what did you do after your big win then?”

“...Not drink?” You say, completely confused with the older man's words.

From the sound of it, he slaps his knees before standing up, “Well then what about dinner, something small, just to talk business” If you could see him you imagined him biting his lips, his head downturned just in the slightest staring at you with those big blue eyes…

Dinner sounded nice…but not as nice. You realized how you could freely talk to him over the phone but simply freeze up in front of the man. You weren’t sure if he’d get much out of you.

You didn’t answer in time, and as impatient as the blond was, you could hear the jingle of the keys. “I’ll be there in an hour, no need to dress too nice.” Were the last words he spoke leaving you once again, alone on the other side of the phone.

Leaning over your dresser you took a good look at your features. You may or may not have spent the last few days doing nothing but stress over everything. Ultimately you’d just lose yourself along with it.

Retouching the light makeup you already had on thanks to your tiring outing with Jenson earlier you hadn’t noticed the butterflies that erupted within.

Was this…like a date?

Granted you’ve been on your fair share, you could only focus on your career. You wouldn’t get nowhere with boys on your mind.

Well until now, where nothing but a singular boy infected your brain like the plague.

The blush on your cheeks brightened and you were sure it was not from the powder you delicately placed so intricately prior.

“Not a date…” You spoke out loud, “He’s annoying- too old- and Uhm…rude.” You grumbled to yourself, your index finger poking out towards the mirror.

Your outfit consisted of something not too dressy, to clearly make the impression of it not being a date whatsoever.

Not that Sebastian even said it was.

He was just using this as an opportunity.

Selfish.

Giving your image one last once-over there was a knock at your door. Checking the time you murmured how Jenson was probably on the other side- asking to hang out- and besides, Sebastian would be here soon enough.

Swinging the door open you closed your eyes, trying to fight back the headache that already swelled from your past week's events.

“What.” You curtly question, rubbing your temple in a circular motion.

A low laugh takes you out of your mind. Realizing you were far from incorrect about your prediction. “You forgot already? Or you just hate to see me?”

The words were stuck in your mind, nothing came out as you took a look at Sebastians outfit. The first thing you needed to drink in.

He wore similar vibes, okay no problem- none at all.

But you didn’t see him in…regular clothes too often that something inside you told you to take advantage of this moment. Maybe even giving you the chance to get to crawl into his twisted mind? People do say how someone dresses reflects on who they are as a person. At Least you think so anyways.

You turned your back, scrambling to finish putting your socks on, retreating back into the hotel room. You thanked the gods that you kept your room tidy for once because the second he placed a foot into your space you felt winded.

“Sorry- I’ll- uh be just a second.” You apologized with a softer voice than intended. You could feel his eyes on you, stuck like he could find the answer from a simple stare.

Whatever answers he wished to retrieve from you.

Sebastian swatted the air, leaning on the wall still, not tearing away his gaze.

“Don’t you think someone will catch us?” You questioned as you finished tying your shoes in the most sloppily efficient way possible.

He shrugged, whether he hadn’t thought about his actions, or he did and didn’t care too much of what the media or other people would think in the slightest. Not that you were surprised at all at this statement. But the point still worries you. Because, how would it effect you?

“Don’t worry about it either,” your name drips from his lips- almost perfectly. His accent captures iin a way many could not.

“And why’s that?” You both started down the hallway, and he only laughed with a response, as though you just said a joke amongst old friends.

Sebastian placed an arm around your shoulders bringing you close to him, a side-ish, awkward hug, with you all stiff from the sudden touch.

“Because you want control of the situation.” His words oozed matter-of-a-factly.

Though, this only riled you up. Timidly pulling yourself from his hold. “Bubble.” You drew a circle in front of him. His blue eyes seemed almost disappointed in your efforts to free yourself from his hold.

“Well- as I was saying.” He quickly recovered, probably hoping you hadn’t noticed his façade fleeting. “You want control, you take control, if you seem scared, then you give them something to accuse you of.” He pointed down to you. Sure you didn’t want to admit that he was right, but his words were certainly nothing short of a lie.

He held the door of the hotel open, and as the gust of the night, Australian air brushed against your cheeks you felt even more uncertain for the night.

The drive over to whatever restaurant he wished to take you to was….a tad long. Too long for your comfort. He tapped his knee to the beat of the music that plays over the radio. His head bopping to the rhythm- or well an attempt to.

And you sat there, tension filling the air- to you anyway.

“I’d rather not get ambushed by fans, don’t you agree?” He pulled up, a more exclusive expensive looking spot stood before the both of you.

You turned your attention to Sebastian, “What happened to casual?” Perhaps you were becoming comfortable around the German.

Or maybe not, because the next words just ruined your mood.

“Keep your enemies closer.”

Corny alert.

And he realized it too because he laughed.

—

He ordered no drinks for himself, you could only guess he would’ve found it boring being tipsy while the girl in front of him was sober and not exactly reciprocating the energy that was brought forth to the table.

“Like I said.” He began picking at a few vegetables on his plate. “I can’t promise anything, those decisions aren’t up for me to make.”

You knew the truth, and the truth were the words leaving his mouth. He had no control whether they took you for next year. But a rookie’s word over a third time world champion? You were undoubtedly certain he could convince someone on the team to slide you in, throwing Daniel’s name out the window.

“Then how do you know the information I'm giving is the truth?” You tested, slight annoyance in your tone.

Once again he shrugged, chewing on a broccoli mindlessly. “So will you tell me or are we gonna go back and forth on this all day?”

A smile suddenly appeared on your features. You found humour in his dry words. And it was your turn to laugh at him. “Why not? It’s fun?”

Sebastian shook his head with disapproval. “Yeah, right.”

You knew he’d have to get you to say something eventually. You both had a flight early the next morning. Malaysia was near and so were team meetings. He needed to present something.

“Jenson…he…” You suddenly didn’t feel as hungry, pushing the plate of overly fancy stir fry to the middle of the table. “He did tell me…about the next race.” Rubbing the back of your neck, you didn’t look at Sebastian anymore. It was too much, too overwhelming.

How could you do this? This was disgusting. This was-

You told Sebastian everything Jenson told you that morning. Every detail, even your suspicions knowing your brother's personality, his behaviour.

It didn’t take much out of you- you don’t know why but a fire that burnt inside, the one you felt before that meeting, the one that was lit up from the moment you stepped forth into F1.

His string tugged and you followed suit.

Sebastian nods thoughtfully as you spoke, asking extra questions and you were trying your best to suffice his cause.

You still of course embarrassingly stumbled over your words, but the way he stared at you made it all the more worth it. You were messed up. You didn't know why you did it. Maybe a part of you wanted to not let this opportunity up, to let the seat go to Daniel.

What if this really was your only chance to get in a car where you could really win a championship in your career? Walking alongside the blond through the halls of the hotel.

Sebastian's face turned a bit into one of…worry?

“You look a little pale…” He murmurs, placing a hand on your shoulder as you unlock the door to the hotel room. He insists on following you in, and you were far too sick to refute it. If you did- you dont think your toilet would have seen the expensive dinner.

You weren’t sucking up to him, you were still guilty.

Practically slamming the door on his face and throwing up your entire dinner. Projectile vomiting into your toilet. The anxiety filled you over the brim, it was stuck in your throat, throwing it all away in one big groan.

Sebastian stood there staring at the closed door. He didn’t understand you. You were confusing…foreign, even to him. He had come across strange women in his life but not as peculiar as you. No matter how he interacted with you, you always seemed to take a step back. Like he wasn’t really speaking to you.

He guessed it was the age gap.

You wondered why you even agreed to any of this, you were an awful liar, and now the anxiety would surely affect more than just your behaviour. Your performance too. In front of the media you were kind and affectionate, open even. Yet he seemed to find a way to create a shallow version of you. The confidence and feminine power you created in order to earn respect in this sport made you a shy, young, timid adult.

You expected people to take advantage of you but you had not expected it to turn about in such horrible ways.

The rest of the week was spent not only ignoring Jenson but Sebastian as well. Not that he texted or bothered you after all the information you had provided, and while in another time you would approach Daniel with your issues you couldn't exactly go to him either. Because it was your idea after all to shove him under the bus.

—

Once Malaysia came that following weekend, you almost were envious of those watching the race unfold outside in the crowds, paddocks, the television.

The free practices and qualifying were consistent for you, around p7, not bad. You only betted on your luck the first race around. You won't be as hungry as Sebastian. You wouldn't stoop so low.

Not that you weren't already.

“Hey!” Your name was called from a distance causing you to whip your attention to the voice, confused as to who was possibly calling you just mere minutes from where you should take your place on the track.

It was Jenson…

You forgot about your ritual…

“What’s up with you?” He said, angrily. And your heart pitted to the floor. God he knew. It was over, they’d take you away to…driver jail- a room locked with Christian Horner, and no one to save you.

“What do you mean?” A clueless tone is laced in your confusion.

“I mean, how many times did I text and call you- I was convinced you weren't even here.” He exasperates, his voice louder than it should, especially with the media around, that terrifies you.

“Sorry…” You trailed off pushing your finger at your temple hoping to subside the pain surging through your head like an endless ring.

“Sheesh, Button rivalry already?” A voice calls out, instigating the two of you.

Jenson quirks a brow at the younger male, wondering what exact goal he had to be butting into your business. “I’m not sure I’m following.” The brit responds.

Sebastian flicked Jenson’s hat to the floor, shrugging and taking his leave, shooting you one last look. Your eyes locked and for a split second you swore there were words hidden beneath them. As though nonverbally answering Jensons question.

He was here to help.

His sly actions left Jenson so confused that he sighed, checked the time and wished you luck, your hands slapped together in your usual handshake and he took his leave.

This left you in a bit more high spirits about the whole thing. Well slightly, if possible. That attention you craved from him finally hitting your neurons. You couldn't place the marker on it, did you enjoy it? Or did it make you so sick you were delirious that this was how your body reacted to the situation.

You didn't have Jenson or Daniel to rely on, and Sebastian would be last pick in this instance. Granted you didn't really have a relationship with him before last week, let alone the previous season. But you could sense a bond forming. A secret that no one else could see through blind eyes.

The two of you were on the same team. And that's what worried you more. No one to rely on but the man himself. The one who caused this season to become oh so complicated.

Whether it was Horner’s call or Sebastian's- even yours. You couldn't let this get in the way of your dreams. A spark of confidence and reassurance flew inside of you. Like a bee stinging hope directly into your veins.

Daniel eyed you from his garage…

He knew of your duty. He was there- in the same meeting as you.

For now though, you had an aligned focus on the race.

And you were sure you would rewatch it all later that night. The only concern you had was if Sebastian didn't receive a win over this, it would be your fault.

Soon you’d be all set to blast off, your ears turned the rev of the engine into white noise. You hummed to nothing in particular at every turn and corner.

But through every lap you wondered what everyone's postions were. You wondered about what Sebastian's plan was during all this. You didn't think about what he would do, or how he’d go about the entire ordeal.

“What are the standings?” You questioned, hoping to not come off too obvious.

Your engineer complied, coolly listing off the drivers.

“P1 is being fought over by Button and Vettel,” He then rephrases his words after a short beat. “Jenson.” He clears if you had thought you were a part of that statement. “P3 is Webber, 4 is Hamilton, and you are standing in a strong P5, keep it up.”

Not bad, you grinned and responded a short thank you. Hearing the two males were not too far ahead dueling it out made you even more jealous of the people screaming from their bedsides.

He then decided to add information on Daniel, he was P7 a few behind but you both were in points. Despite Ricciardo being the focused driver, it seemed they didn't argue with you taking the reins. Did last week and your submission convince them to give you the spotlight for a few races?

A few grueling laps later, you heard a bit of commotion over the radio, “looks like Webber and Vettel are dueling it out up there.” Your trusty engineer chuckles in your ear, finding it amusing, seeing two teammates fighting over first place.

You furrow your brows, but don’t respond, you wondered if this would come to bite you in the ass later on. Or maybe Mark was simply fighting for the sake of it? Because of the meeting? Because of you.

You tried not to let it bother you too much. You did all you could and it helped- clearly, this was Sebastian’s to worry about.

Crossing that finish line at an awesome 4th place, your team erupted in cheers once again. Not a win, of course. But imagine what you could do in a car like RedBull?

Your feet hit the ground with a heavy weight.

And that's when it smacked you in the face. Who won the race?

You tried to find anyone- a sort of indication as to who it could be…but when you watched the several screens display the placements you saw the list of DNF’S.

“Six…DNF’s…” You said speechlessly. What a shit show. You heard about them when your engineer saw fit in informing you, but seeing it for real was a different story. Among the long list of positions were,

P17 J.Button
P18 D.Ricciardo

The two names above each other, like they were taunting you. You looked up to the ceiling, as though both communicating with your thoughts, and hoping god would give them to you. Finding the courage to go through the rest of the list until you were perfectly interrupted.

The screen flashed to the podium just in time for the first place winner to walk all smug and proudly to the middle step. Almost as though he's strutting, the blond, with the most evil smirk in town, hops up to the podium. His infamous finger wagging in the air.

He won.

He won.

You really are helping him…

And you couldn’t find the right answer brewing inside you, did you enjoy the thrill of doing something you shouldn’t? Or did you dread the fear, placing you behind the responsibility every time a race would be around the corner?

Sebastian finds the camera amongst the crowd, and as it zooms onto his wet, sweaty glory, Sebastian screams a thank you, a laugh erupting from his chest full of desire.

Thank you…

—

Sebastian texted you, it was nothing special- he invited you to the party he was having for his win, the location followed by a short, somewhat meaningful text.

“You’re the reason tonight happened, come out!”

He went as far as sending a winking emoji.

You purse your lips. Staring and staring and staring until you burnt your retinas, you weren't sure what to say- or how to say it.

On one hand if you went you would be letting loose, dancing away any stress for one night. But on the contrary if he really did have something to do with both your brother and teammates DNF then you weren't sure you were too keen being tangled with that crowd.

Anyway, you imagined only the older drivers would be there at the party. A quick search also denied your entry to the club, it wasn't many countries where you were restricted access to fun events.

‘Can’t, I’m not 21.’

Shooting the text you groaned into your pillow. Because truthfully you wanted to join in on the fun. You wanted to go so bad that you were willing to break the law, again. You had completed a seemingly impossible task and you were totally sulking in your now new hotel room with no evening plans in sight.

Jenson was too bummed to spend time with you. And Daniel- well you hadn’t really seen him all night…but…

‘I’ll let you in’

His text brightened your smart phones screen, as well as your heart. A smile appeared softly on your cheeks.

You searched the address up, you tapped your socked foot against the floor softly. What should you wear? You were not wanting to make a name for yourself tonight, nor were you planning on being picked out from the crowd so…

Fixing your hair in some sort of updo, you slowly slid up the thick tights over your legs. They provided you the false comfort of it not being see-through. It was a bit chilly this time of year, so it was a precaution too. An oversized leather jacket you sneakily stole from Jenson countless years ago was worn over your shoulders, a long-ish skirt and a black top. Something to blend in with the crowd.

With black heels on your feet, grabbing your purse on the way out the only thing you were surprised with was swinging your door open to find Daniel.

You hadn’t spoken to him in more than a week now. Since the faithful weekend.

Daniel took in your outfit, utterly confused as to where you were going on a night like this. The younger drivers only went to the celebrations if they were friends. So he knew you had nowhere to be. Especially not in that get-up.

“Where are you going?” The aussie questions, genuine curiosity fueling him.

“Oh sorry, is my dad here? I can't see him.” You sarcastically spoke with a grumble, walking right past him. “I'm going out, Ricciardo.” Waving a dismissive hand in the air, Daniel continued following suit.

“Hey, you seem in high spirits- what happened?”

And that’s what got you to stop dead in your tracks. He knew, you can't forget he knew.

Was this your collateral? A painful reminder that Daniel was one step behind you. The possibility that he was also put up to the same task behind your back?

You sucked in a shaky breath of air, turning around and staring at him. This wasn't Sebastian though, you knew how to handle this. “I mean,” You put on a face, a frowned one. And while maybe it was a bit excessive for the scene, you had to play the part. “I’m trying to get past it, honestly- What am I supposed to do?” As you spoke you didn't realise just how truthful you were being. You wanted to lie, make anything up, but nothing shy of the truth escaped your mind.

“So?” Daniel crossed his arms over his chest, he was wearing what you presumed were his pajamas, a pair of sweats and a worn-in shirt. Definitely opposite of what you were wearing.

“So?” You quipped back almost confused, thinking he would have understood you. “I’m trying to find my way out of it- obviously.” In a matter of fact tone dipped into foreign territory. Maybe you thought you could handle Daniel but the way his face turned sour made you believe otherwise.

“Then you better find a way out fast. Because if he wins- all eyes will be on you. Someone sooner or later will find out about Christians plans.” He warned, and while he was obviously trying to come off as someone on your side. The way he accused someone of finding out in due time made you think that he would be responsible.

“You can't,” You said suddenly, tense all over. And here you thought Daniel was your friend.

“I can, especially if my own seat will be at risk from your choices.”

You took another step back, you didn’t even make it to the end of the hallway. But here you were, arguing with once a good friend.

“You were the reason those DNF happened, right?” Your eyes boggled from your head.

“What? No! They asked me to spy, not fuck up cars- definility not yours.” You spoke under your breath. Teeth tightly gritted.

Now you didn't even want to go out, but with the way everyone was treating you, it urged you to enjoy yourself further.

Because if no one could, you definitely would.

“I’m just looking out for you, if you suddenly had some weird change of heart.” He stuck out a finger, pointing it to you like this was all your fault. As if this all wouldn’t pin on you in the very end. Like you asked to be in this position.

“Goodnight Daniel.” You didn’t want to waste another sliver of your well being on someone who just couldn’t understand. No, they didn’t want to understand.

You were hurt, a close friend and teammate throwing you to the side? You hadn’t planned on disrespecting him- not to his face anyway.

Getting into the taxi you had time to contemplate. It was around 10 now and the party had barely begun and was nowhere near ending.

The car pulled up to a, thankfully, nice area. Your heels barely made contact with the ground beneath you when Vettel's name appeared on your screen once again.

“Hey!” His voice rolled on, and if it were possible, his accent tripling with how many drinks he’d had already that night.

So lost in thought you nearly forgot how to speak, the words caught in your throat.

“…Mmm…Hello? Kleine?” His slurred voice dragged you into the land of your dreams. Too high in the clouds to come down.

Yet you replied anyway, “I just got here,” Answering his question was the only possible action you could take at the moment.

You saw a crowd, a huge one surrounding the entrance. You presumed it were fans who hadn’t managed to get in, impatiently waiting until they got even the slightest peek at the drivers.

Everyone inside was probably people you knew.

And for a second you nearly believed you were a part of that crowd. No, you thought, because someone in there would’ve been hoping to see you too.

“Around the back, I’ll open it,” He promised, with such sweetness that you swallowed it down thickly. Savouring the taste of his kind words. Hey! Who knows when Sebastian will ever be this nice again. You’d rather relish in this than throw it away.

Without having the fans see you, you circled out back. Holding the leather jacket close to your body, the winds picking up just a tad.

Finding one of the doors, phone still up to your ear, you looked around, clueless, suspicious even, until the door swung open.

Sebastian- similar to yourself still had the phone perched between his ear and shoulder. But once he laid eyes on you he slowly put it down.

You didn’t notice the way his eyes observed every detail of your body.

No you didn’t notice because you took in his. You guessed he wore something in order to move easily, with all the drinking and partying he’d be doing.

Sebastian smelt like a million dollars, his fluffy hair oddly styled in a purposefully messy way. But you assumed it really wasn’t so styled. His outfit consisted of a RedBull zip up, slightly baggy jeans and a tight muscle tee underneath it all, that hugged his neck perfectly.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth and watched the older male so carefully.

“You won today just as much as I did,” His arm reached out to you, hesitating for a split second, remembering the boundary you set, the bubble.

He thought about it before acting on it. But of course, regardless, he stepped outside into the breezy Malaysian night and he dragged you inside.

It was like you walked through a portal and you found yourself in a world full of…drunk happy people. Shoulder to shoulder arms intertwined, diseases certainly being exchanged.

When you won you partied- sure- everyone did. But it wasn’t at such an elegant place. Even if this wasn’t your style. Or well- rather it would be, starting now.

Sebastian glanced at the beverage that seemed to suddenly appear in his hold. “Still don’t drink?” He wiggled it in your face, hoping to convince you.

You shook your head, not wanting to be drunk, you didn’t usually drink. Unless for the times where you’d win- like Australia, even then you didn’t like it too much. You could never get past the taste.

Sebastian, almost as if he mimics you, shook his head with disapproval- but in a way where he was clearly joking. Just offering the drink for the sake of it. “Keep this up, and I’ll let you, Kleine win next time” The scent of alcohol on his tongue mixed with the heavenly cologne suffocates you, maybe you were getting second hand drunk off him?

For some parts of the night you were separated from the 25 year old, both mingling with various people throughout the night. You must admit you felt a bit out of place, not only were you technically underage here, but one of the younger drivers too.

You pushed it aside though, you didn't have time to worry about the smaller things.

Weirdly enough, you eventually spotted Fernando, and the way he sat at the bar, speaking to a woman in another language made you stifle a laugh. You found it hilarious that even after a not so good race that this man never stopped for a second to fool around.

The club was nothing but shining, bright lights, RedBull’s colours projecting across every wall. Sebastian's Podium was broadcasted on a few of the screens. And one of the cameras showing the rest of the club panned over to where the missing driver had gone.

Sebastian was on both Hamilton and Kimi’s shoulders. And you could have sworn the drunken winner was looking for someone, and when he had found them he ushered them up there with him. You followed your gaze to where he was really. Your eyes widening when he screamed your name until his lungs cracked. You don’t really notice the way your legs are lifted from the ground. The initial panic made you swing and squeal against them.

Everyone cheered, their boasting voices filling your conscience.

“To the Rookie!” He exclaimed, the nearly empty bottle in his hand was certainly done by the time the surf had reached next to him. Your laughs filled your mind with how much fun you were having. You’d never gone to a party like this one before. And something inside you hoped he’d win again if you'd get to be in an atmosphere like this one all the time.

The coming consequences didn’t bother you, and you didn't want them to, because for once in your life, being selfish paid off.

The entire room bursts into echoes of Sebastian's words. It was odd, really odd. Everyone had eyes on you, of course you reciprocated it all. If everyone wanted to be selfish so would you, and that would be taking Sebastian's fame right under his nose.

The cheers continued through the night, and once you were back on the ground you found yourself sitting at the bar you previously saw Fernando at, and sure- you were so far inside the club that it would make sense to ask for a drink after all the trouble. But you just request a RedBull- no branding business there. You wanted to feel energized too.

Sipping on the can you felt the presence of someone snaking next to you. There was a large enough space between the two of you, that didn’t bring you too much discomfort.

You glanced over, taking a peek at who it was. Hoping to god it wasn’t some creep. But further investigation brought you further to your dismay; it was the one who’d invited you out in the first place.

Well on second thought, maybe you did want to talk to him, have a civil conversation. Because in truth you were having the time of your life.

Sebastian's eyes were a bit drooped, a little bit of a pout revealing itself over his soft round features. You couldn’t help it, so you take a mental photo of him, hanging onto it for years to come.

He seemed so…carefree. Even if that is the brand he advertised himself as when in front of the media and other drivers. This was the Sebastian.

Tangling a hand into his hair he asked for a cup of water, beginning to sober up for the night you presumed.

“I think I’ll throw up five times by the time I’m home.” He opens a conversation- like you two were already longtime friends.

You breathed in, hoping to consume any words to respond to his casual chat. “Well I guess I’m lucky I won’t be there to witness that.” You mustered out, eyes strained on the beverage in front of you.

You didn't know what to think of him, and just like you said to yourself since you met him, you aren't sure if you ever will. He made you sick, excited and depressed all the same time. But for the first time in your life- here you were having fun without any discretion. Even if you needed it bad- especially your position at hand.

Sebastian eyed you, and he did it shamelessly. “Did you have fun?” He questioned, resting his palm on his cheek, keeping him upright.

You glanced at him, and subconsciously you pulled away, turning from his stare, but you could still feel it. “Of course I did, this is my party after all” You joked, in a low voice only he could hear between the both of you and the club.

“Well then let's hope it stays this way, right Kleine?” Vettel's hand went to go pat your shoulder, but he smoothly pulled away before he could get chewed out by you, respecting those previously mentioned boundaries. It was a fact that he did cross it earlier though- but luckily it seems to not have bothered you too much.

Sebastian seemed to be sobering up, eventually gaining some part of his mind back on earth. Looking at the bartender on the other side of the counter he points to your drink, then himself. Leaving you to your devices. Clearly some sort of conversation you didn't understand occurred between the two of them, soon enough though, it was clear he had intended on paying your tab

Your tab of 4 whole Red Bulls.

To you, you saw his need to pay as unnecessary. It’s not like any of this would make a dent in either of your wallets. But needless to say, you recognized the kind gesture.

The two of you weren't exactly friends, but some sort of friendliness hung in the air. One you’d continue to cling onto for months to come.

The red bull overflows your conscience, your thinking, your thoughts drifting. Sebastian could be doing this to be nice, as an act. It was possible, even more possible than actually caring about whether you truly get hit with a bus when this is all over. But then again here you were doing exactly that- being nice for the sake of it.

You just hoped he wasn't faking it. You hoped he wasn’t that kind of guy.

Chapter Text

As the three week break rolled around, it was exactly what you needed.

To be home in Italy, with your thoughts. No Jenson to ask about every detail in your life, no Sebastian to follow you around, and especially no Daniel throwing accusations and threats.

You spent your time mindlessly going through the grueling spring days scrolling through your fellow drivers instagrams. Discovering how everyone was spending their vacation. Whether with their girlfriends, sponsors, or other hobbies, you felt a little jealous. Not about the partners part- obviously, but about how busy they seemed to be. With no tasks or work to consume you- you lazed around like a bear in hibernation.

Good thing you had friends outside of this field!

Well?

And to your dismay they, too, were drowned in their own work. Studying for finals.

Leaving you actually alone.

And so you did what you did best, nothing. Catching up on paperwork, the gym, sim training…attempted at cooking a delicious meal that only got the firefighters at your house laughing at how you possibly burnt a bowl of dry pasta.

Though, once the end of the first week came, you were deathly out of things to do. So free you even tried getting the attractive firefighters to come by and save you. But this time you couldn’t even get the food on fire.

Faenza, Italy was gorgeous, and of course you took advantage of it- or well, up until this moment. You moved in right before the new season- taking the step to move out from your childhood home and making a name for yourself, your second year would naturally come with far more opportunities than your first.

It took a bit of convincing, on your parents and Jenson’s part. Initially you were just thinking of living on your own in London, somewhere lively but still near home. But when Tost offered to help you find a place in Italy- totally mishearing your question- you took your only opportunity.

Your entire life was about proving yourself. So jumping the furthest seemed about your style. Besides you wouldn’t be home often during the season anyway. You were responsible enough.

The Toro Rosso quarters were also there, also serving your independence and easy way to get work done, go over performance, meetings- you know. A perfect excuse.

—

The third and final week was a duration where you’d have to actually do work. You’d actually get to speak to people you know and enjoy. So when you walked in with a confident, prepared look on your face- you were ready to feel exhausted.

A gym bag in tow you accidentally bump into someone, too engrossed in the Instagram feed you were scrolling through. And it certainly wasn’t anyone you wanted to see.

“Hey Button!” Daniel snakes an arm around your shoulder. A grin plastered on his lips, his teeth blinding you- and his beard nearly brushing against your cheek/

You cringed at the close proximity of your teammate, you’d think Daniel would know that by now- you were sure he did. This was just him showing he didn’t care enough to listen to your boundaries. That wasn’t all, It’s not that you didn’t like physical touch, it's that you dreaded it.

“Bubble” The familiar words spew from your mouth as you push yourself gently from his hold.

Your teammate grumbled, not trying to push his luck. Not yet anyway. So, he turned his attention elsewhere.

He was just being kind- you guess. Though what transpired in Malaysia between the both of you made you not want to be near his presence. Not at all.

You rolled your eyes and continued walking.

“No way you're still mad at me?” The taller male followed you like a little duckling. Daniel was not one who you could trust, and you recognized that with that sudden turn of attitude he broadcasted freely to you in the middle of a hallway. And who knows- what if someone did hear.

“I am” You snapped back. And luckily for you this is what got him to shut up, for now anyway.

You trained side by side Daniel, working on strategies for the next few races, making educated guesses- random assumptions. Everything that needed to be done in the little time you had left before heading to China.

By the end of the day you were nothing but a sweaty mess, a shower definitely overdue. Your hair stuck to your cheeks disgustingly, your cheeks flushed with exhaustion, and your palms calloused with the rough handling of the gym equipment. When you spotted Daniel though, you realized just how he mirrored your worn out self. He was twice as sweaty- he made you look like a walk in the park!

He scrubbed a towel over his curls and stared down at you. The evening Italy horizon was so beautiful that it nearly made you emotional, to notice how far you'd gotten in your career. Daniel on the other hand was ruining the sentimental performance in your head.

“I’m sorry!” He blurted, leaning on the metal bar you found yourself perched upon, balancing your weight not trying to fall.

“You're not sorry,” Was your only response, scoffing at the mere thought of him even trying to apologize. It was absurd to you that he was even trying. You two were teammates, and you didn’t ask to be put in this position- he was no better than Christian.

“I am! I swear,” Your name fell from his throat- and unlike Sebastian it didn't immediately put a spell on you. Why? Because you realized that being terrified of your own teammate made you weak.

The epiphany you had came to you while home alone all those weeks. Daniel was in no better boat than your own. He would be in just as much trouble as you. And that acted as the gasoline fueling your anger once again. At the end of the day, this was all a tactic to put you two against one another. You were not making the same mistake you had in Malaysia.

“You realized huh..” Daniel read your mind seeing how you hadn't let up.

“Long time ago.” You lied, smoothly.

“And?” Daniel turned his body to face yours. Watching you so carefully, as though one wrong word would get you to slip through his hands. Through his ability to get something out of you.

“And I have decided,” You stare over to the man. His shadow of a beard had grown in since you last saw him, maturing the driver just a tad. “I dont care anymore, I think I know my place and my abilities, no different than your own.”

You jumped back down with a small huff before adding on. “Be selfish, I guess. But you wont get anywhere. I think you'll just get yourself in trouble, Daniel”

He furrowed his brows, recounting your previous conversation. “Selfish?” He said as though it could never be. “Me? Selfish?! Look at yourself! From what I heard, it didn't take much of a fight to get you to do anything- I heard Sebastian approached you personally! You didn’t even try to say no!” He folds his arms, his face wearing the roughest expression one could put on.

Whipping around, you narrow your eyes. “What does that mean?” You quipped.

“It means we all saw what happened after he won.” He folded his arms over his chest, a small smirk tugging at the edge of his cheeks. A few wrinkles appeared. “You were dancing- having fun, and what business did you have there?”

A sickening pit in your stomach formed. You were caught out- you’ve been online occasionally since then- ensuring nothing about you had gotten out. Clearly something did, and landed right into Daniel’s palms.

“I was having fun-”

“Espionage is very fun, Button.”

Your hands bawl into a fist by your side, you were shaking. Not out of fear of course, but out of sheer anger. Daniel had come to try to settle things between you earlier- but now he just doubled down further. The indents your nails were making in your palm would surely bleed with how tight of a grip you held.

“This conversation is over.”

“Sure- one of many. But if I was able to come to that conclusion Button, don't come crying to me when Jenson knows you bit his ass off” The australians accent multiplied at that last phrase. “Your brother, not mine.”

You guys were in public, again. And the last thing you wanted was to make a fuss about your private affairs here.

“Daniel,” You warned, tilting your head as though a teacher reprimanding a misbehaving child.

“I’m not the kid here, you watch yourself- I tried looking out for you, just wait.” Daniel did his usual stance, standing tall, hands on his hips. Showing his defiance, clear as day. “You were here last year, but were you there in 2011? ‘10?” He laughed like you were supposed to know all of the wordless information he was throwing out. “He gets what he wants. He could care less about everyone else, especially not you.”

It didn't take an idiot to know who he was talking about. You searched for many words hanging by your tongue, an abundance of swears amongst them.

“You’re stupid to think I’m doing this for attention!” You yelled this time, suddenly not caring about the spotlight you’d garner. You watched Daniel cross into the parking lot, furiously. “This is for me!” You dug your thumb into your chest, hard.

Daniel didn't turn around, but you could see him stiffen, his mind contemplating on a phrase for a few small beats.

You were one in the same.

And it wasn't just him he was worrying about, but you too.

Safe to say you spent the rest of your break with a sick, sick sense of anxiety.

—

Being back on the track felt good, you were no longer bored, and had stuff to do. Now, to work!

But it seemed the moment you landed in China, a few days before the Grand Prix you were already bombarded by the two worst people. As if they already knew of your whereabouts, a text was shot your way right as the plane landed.

“Tomorrow.”

Well at least Sebastian’s text was straight to the point, because Jenson’s is what was giving you sore eyes…

“We need to talk about a few weeks ago.”

You didn’t know what that meant. A few weeks ago? Well, you lied, you did know what he was talking about.

And that’s when Daniel’s words haunted you. Because of the possibility it was true. Or worse, what if he…really did snitch?

Ultimately you left Sebastian on delivered, and simply sent the number of your hotel room to Jenson. Too tired to formulate any words at the moment for either of them. It would be stupid to make a case now, especially with no information.

It didn't take long at all for your brother to show up. Returning from a quick meeting with your PR manager, you could see Jenson knocking at the door from across the hall.

He tapped his foot impatiently, a hand running across his beard, itching it. A habit he tends to do when he’s thinking too hard for his own good.

“Too early for the party?” You questioned, a smirk playing across your lips. Nudging the older man out of the way.

He only huffed out a breath. Not in the mood to joke around. “How about too late.” Jenson alludes, looking not so impressed with your attitude.

“Alright, alright…” you murmured letting you both into the room. Your brother didn’t waste any more time, he heard the door click closed and the supposed rehearsal of words left his lips.

“I tried calling you that day.” Jenson frowns, you both stood in the middle of the grand room. “But then I thought- like a normal person- oh maybe she’s asleep, you know, she did complain about being tired when she asked me about my DNF.”

Your stomach dropped, your lip twitching at the same time. Clearly not anticipating where he was going with this, or what he knew.

“Wake up the next morning with Daniel sending me a few articles, he was laughing, but I don’t think I found it funny.”

You didn’t try to talk, you needed to play it smart, not stupid.

Jenson continued shaking his head. “Why were you even there?” The confused expression that remained over his features made you feel a tad better about this.

“Last I checked you had no business with the older guys- and definitely not Sebastian’s win.”

Your heart plummeted.

“Did you drink? Is that what it is? You wanted to get wasted to seem cool?”

Your mouth gaped open, offended he would think of you so lowly. “What did you just say? Of course I didn’t drink Jenson! Why would I-“

He put a hand in the air, stopping you. “If that’s true, why are there a million articles about you? At that party?” He paused, allowing you to create some kind of rebuttal, but being accompanied by no response he continued on. Fishing his phone from his pocket, tapping across the screen and flipping it towards you.

A journalist’s work stood before you.

‘Jenson Button’s sister seen at a club shortly after her brother's miserable DNF.’ Nice to see that’s all they knew you by.

“And PR says don’t listen to the internet, but to be frank here,” Your full name is uttered. “I don’t see how this could be any more of a truth.”

“I wanted to have fun” The same string of words you told Daniel just early that week, the same phrase you were convincing yourself of all this time. “I was bored- I wanted to make friends with everyone else, on my own accord.”

Jenson pursed his lips, debating on whether he should believe your words.

“It doesn’t explain-“

You didn’t get to hear his next words because the phone you carelessly tossed in the beginning of the conversation began to buzz.

A name neither of you could read from where you stood, lit up.

Something inside said that it wasn’t anyone that could help you in this situation.

And that’s how you stared at it, uncertain, worried.

Did your face go pale?

You both let it ring before its time was cut short. Whoever it was decided there was no use to stay on the line if no one was answering.

Jenson’s eyes slowly dragged its way back over to you. Reading your expression. Your reaction wasn't normal. “Does that answer my question?” He gestured his head to where your phone laid. The screen still showing the missed notification.

“Should it?”

Jenson wasn't amused, nor was he wanting to have a conversation with no sort of direction.

“We are family, I’m not here to dictate your life. I just want to know why you’re acting like this.”

You wanted to argue, because while Daniel may have said something similar, Jenson’s words were sincere. He was your brother, and wanted what was best for you. Not wanting you to make the same mistakes as he did when new to the industry. He knew what depths you’d be dragged to- all because of your gender.

Only if he knew what mess you created, for the both of you.

“If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine.” Jenson suddenly snapped, his words heated, and low. “You want to act like a kid, sure, because you’ll get yourself out of whatever it is on your own.”

Your eyes widened, he knew something was wrong. He knew-

“Why does it matter to you?!” You asked, in disbelief, “I can handle myself, if there was a problem that you made up in your head!” Maybe gaslighting Jenson wouldn't aid your case later on, but the words flowed out faster than you could think of them.

“I get it,” Jenson nodded slowly, bumping into your shoulder on his way out. His hand gripped the door knob tightly. “I get what the problem is, but giving you the answers would just piss you off.”

You tilted your head, baffled at what he could possibly be implying. “What the hell?”

He let out a chuckle, one that dripped of bitter nothingness. “No because, I don't control your life- right?” He turned the handle, the dirty blond preparing himself for his leave. “You want attention, go do it another way.”

That’s what he thought of you? An attention whore? Someone using their hard earned success to get in the tabloids?

And that is what your brother thought. There was no other explanation for your sudden change in attitude. You wanted to plant yourself in the minds of fans and journalists alike. You wanted what everyone else seemed to have and what you lacked.

And the longer you thought on the concept of such words you nodded slowly.

You were alone now. The sunset now overcast the room in a dark, low mood.

You did want the attention, whether you wanted to believe it or not.

Chapter Text

The following day you attempted at calling Jenson, only to be sent straight to voicemail- the connection not lasting more than two buzz’s.

How could you get the information before the race without raising any alarms?

You cursed yourself for being rude to him, he was just looking out for you, but here you were being a total bitch. But if he could come into your bubble, your hotel room unannounced, so could you. And you did, bearing gifts.

With a plastic bag full with all kinds of takeout, sweets- everything one could think of to bribe their older brother was held tightly. Your knuckles turning white with the anticipation stinging you.

Lifting your hand you softly left one- two knocks, placing your finger over the peep hole. Not wanting him to ignore you from the mere sight of you. All you needed was one foot through the door. A face to face conversation.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding when the door opened, accompanying a voice commenting on how their food arrived.

You were deathly focused on the ground that upon hearing such a familiar tone your head shot up. Whiplash aching at the nape of your neck.

“Oh,” a disappointed voice was directed to you. Assuming it was simply because you were indeed not the anticipated meal. “Not our food…” His words trailed off, noticing the sizely plastic bag you clenched onto like your life depended on it.

You and Sebastian both shared a look.

One of guilt and the other of knowing pride. And you knew right then what he was doing here.

Finishing off the job.

Your stomach nearly fell out from your mouth. Covering your lips with the back of your hand. Your face goes pale. You already stood there, food in hand. There was nowhere else to turn. You couldn't decide against this.

Jenson appeared from behind Sebastian curious about the visitor, the door opening wider for you to take a peek inside.

Two controllers were carelessly placed on the ground, the tv playing some soundtrack. They were playing some kind of racing game before the actual race.

Your eyes sheepishly and not so confidently turned to your brothers’. “I brought food…?” You held it up for all to see the abundance.

He tried to maintain a not so impressed expression, knowing your tactics. But soon enough, Jenson’s lips curved into a shadow of a smile, clearly fighting off the ability to say something. He was surprised you decided to face him, he was sure he’d be the one to approach you to clear the situation up.

But as his little sister, you knew- Jenson was an awful sucker for food.

“I hope there's some for me too,” Sebastian bent down, shoving himself in the conversation, peeking into the bag. Probably taking note of the tense- awkward atmosphere that snuck up on the three of you.

Pulling it away from him jokingly. “I don't know, didnt you buy your own anyways?” You asked, with a knowing look.

Sebastian laughed, one that showed the crinkles in his eyes, the older male shook his head.

“I’m sure there is enough for us all…” Jenson moved out of the way allowing you to step inside- not wanting you to stand out in the hall shifting on your heels nervously.

You wore a regular pair of Pajamas not actually expecting company more than your brother but these days it seemed Sebastian was the only one who tolerated your greedy attitude. so you decided opening up yourself, couldn't be so bad- not that you had a choice here. It would just be embarrassing and telling if you changed now.

You tugged at the strings of your sweater of one of your favourite music albums, noticing the eyeing nature of Sebastian. His blue eyes drifted to the awfully embarrassing pants that had plastered art of various cartoons you enjoyed when you were younger. A bit childish and too laid back compared to the other two. And instead of making fun of you out loud, he does his signature downward smile and shakes his head ever so slightly, his blond curls moving in rhythm.

Sebastian on the other hand wore a pair of Nike joggers, and a tee that carefully hid the muscles he bore. A pair of old school white sunglasses kept his hair out of his eyes, the shirt was a simple RedBull one, something he probably threw on just for the sake of it.

Your eyes darted away from Sebastian feeling that same heat rise towards your softened round cheeks. With the three of you in the same room- it was like balancing out two sides of your personality, to ensure a kind of equilibrium between the two men.

One could read you and the other could pull you like a string. What a predicament.

Eventually their real meal arrived, all of you sitting on the hardwood floor like children at a sleepover. Everything sprawled out and your tongues out, licking your lips. It smelt heavenly- sweet, and surely fattening.

“C’mon..” You said, arching your head back letting out a groan, watching the two play made you feel left out. “Let me play a round, I bought half the food we ate!”

Jenson, who seemed to be swayed by your tangible apology, cackled, slightly choking on his food before taking a sip of the canned beer in hand. “Go get your own controller if you want to so badly.” There’s a joking roll to his eyes.

Sebastian on the other hand held a diet coke. Sipping on it moderately. His eyes are lidded as he watches you. You don’t take notice to it- but there’s a sort of intensity to it.

One where he wonders far more about you- than you do him.

You puffed out your cheeks and looked away from either of them. “Fine, you don't want to share, I'll grab my own.” You dusted the crumbs from your hands, taking the stand. “I’ll be back.”

And while you were gone Sebastian took the chance to privately text you without drawing attention to himself.

“I already did it.”

Referring to your failed attempt at retrieving information in time. Did this guy ever talk to you in more than just a dismal, uncertain tone?

You tried not letting his ominous words get to you. You weren’t one to let up, because there was always something lacking. Jenson was your brother, you knew how he’d fair with information. Whatever he told Sebastian was something to be told amongst friends. Situational. You were his sister!

The rest of the evening you ate until you couldn't anymore, promising to all go on a bike in the morning burning the calories and fat you gained by lazing around.

When Sebastian took his leave back to his room he waved, yawning. “Good luck this weekend.” He shot a wink toward you, as he swiftly passes behind- his fingertips ghostly grazing your shoulder. Leaving you stunned and stiff. Now you were so doubling your efforts.

It took a bit but once you were able to get Jenson some more drunk you had an in to ask your intricate questions.

And it wasn't all that difficult to redirect the conversation in your favour. Because that’s when you discovered your newfound knowledge. “I think if I just listen to orders this time I won't get karma’d” He spoke rambling, his tongue loose. “There’s no way I’m gonna DNF in that race, I’m playing it safe.” You nodded, thoughtfully reflecting on your response, you felt for the guy. You wanted to sooth the frustration.

Perhaps this was when it got hard. Looking out for family, and yourself.

“If it helps, I won Australia and since I’ve been out-scoring Daniel they’ve been favouring me- here too.” You provided your insight, gesturing with your hands. “Sometimes not listening can give you an advantage.” You reasoned. “Don't let it get you down in the dumps.” You nudge your brother, Urging him to talk some more.

“Sebastian was asking about what I thought about it- you know, not listening. I told him the only way you get anywhere here is trying to behave.”

You lifted a brow. “Trying?” You echo.

“Yeah? No one ever told you? You know.” His slight slurred words went on, “Let the engineer and team know you'll behave, then on the track let loose, But only moderately- I guess.” Jenson replied, and for once you actually understood what he meant.

You listen but don't- it's all the same at the end of the day.

You got him to talk you into what their next move was, and it seemed they were going to get the two Mclaren drivers to work together, so they'd both get some points this time around. Not wanting to fall short early in the season.

And that's how you left that evening, feeling that sense of pride.

All of a sudden, this whole mission wasn't so bad. Why?

Valuable lessons towards a tasteful victory were being laid out for you.

—

China was a beautiful country, and it wasn’t everyday you got the privilege to race in such an environment. The sun beats lightly over your freckled cheeks, enlightening them more than typically. Engineers, journalists, physios and management were busy working despite the gorgeous weather. You perched your red bull water bottle in between your hands as you sipped on the long straw, humming to the song that plays through your wired earphones.

You enjoyed a nice walk, talking to other drivers, curious about their busy days and catching up around the paddock. After third practice you had some time to kill before Quali, and despite you roaming all over the place you still had a goal. And that would be talking with Sebastian. You just were trying to seem inconspicuous.

You looked both ways, unsure if the media would catch you. But being suspicious is what gets you accused in the first place.

So, naturally, you stride into the Redbull area like nothing mattered- like you were one of them.

It’s not like you weren’t on a team far off. They are the Senior team after all.

You were met with soft smiles and hello’s from the other women hard at work, ipads pushed into their faces- but seeing you causes their faces to gleam wider. Definitely being loved around here was a perk.

The more you snooped around, whistling to the melody, the closer you were to your target. But unfortunately you were met by obstacles. The two Red Bull members who are not so fond of your existence. Probably based on the fact you were a girl- or maybe they did like you, you were participating in their dirty work afterall. They are finishing with an interview, the camera crew walking away in search of their next victim.

Christian…Fucking Horner lets out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his hands together. He doesn’t seem too pleased with whatever is discussed, but that's none of your business. You could care less. He’s arching his neck to turn to Webber- who, to your dismay, his eyes are already locked on you. Confusion etched across his face. His wrinkles show as he scrunches his nose.

It doesn’t take long for Christian, placing his headset on, and clipboard in hand to notice you, too.

Your eye twitched in annoyance, regretting your decision to come here.

“Ah! Button!” Christian spread his arms as if offering a hug.

You took a step back, showing you weren’t as ecstatic in seeing him as he was you. “Hi Horner.” You plaster any kind of smile you can, and you believe if you could spot yourself- it didn’t come off as awfully kind at all.

“I got it, no hugs for you, Missy.” God, you cringed. Surely this would be considered workplace harassment? You fold your arms across your chest, feeling discomfort rush through your body. Their piercing stares digging into you.

Webber was rubbing his neck, thoughtfully thinking of the million reasons you were there. But it all came down to one and only answer. “You’re lookin’ for Seb, I’d reckon?” Mark doesn’t bounce around like the team principal.

Now you could lie, and say something to throw them off- but then again, there was truly no other reason for you to be here other than the blond. So you bit your lip nodding, clearly nervous. “I just got to uh, have a chat.” You untangle one of your arms to gesture.

Webber parted his lips to speak, as if his nosy nature was catching up to him. “You know where to go, Button?” He’s far taller than you, you're shorter than most around here, but Mark was another story. It just added to his intimidating nature, one that not even Sebastian could muster out of you.

Like a predator to its prey.

“I think I’m good.” You attempt at coming off curt and rude, in order to wrap this whole thing up. Already distancing yourself from them.

“Oh c’mon!” Christian as if a clueless bystander, urges the two of you to get along. His crooked teeth showing behind his mischievous snicker. “Help her, will you? You need to tell Seb the stuff I just told you for later anyway!”

Your eyebrows furrowed together in worry. You held onto yourself tightly, preparing to leave, with one foot out of the conversation.

“Oh! And keep it up Button! Sebastian told us some great things!” Horner added, as if shoving that same knife from nearly a month ago down your throat now.

Your ears perked up regardless, your stomach twisting. Sebastian said he couldn’t control anything, yet here he was holding up his end of the deal.

Mark takes notice of your little reaction as you walk alongside him. Smirking. “Surprising, I know- you’d think the little guy would only think for himself.” He shrugs, as he takes his unzipped suit and brings it up around his shoulders, putting it on properly.

While Sbeastian’s teammate was indeed correct, you ignored his strange agenda- whatever it was. All you knew now was that this proved some sort of loyalty between you and the blond. Something that didn’t come easy, on either of your sides.

You shot Horner one last smile before turning the corner.

“This is it.” His name is plated onto the door, while some silly sticky notes from staff are stuck there next to it. Everyone really likes this guy- obviously. You raise your fist, in order to knock- but Mark grabs your wrist instead.

“It wasn’t up to you to be in this situation, little lady.” Ouch, a whole other sense of uncomfortable cringe went through you. “But, I wouldn’t bank on giving Sebastian all your trust.” He attempts at giving you a lesson, as if you truly were too young to understand the extent of your actions. And maybe he was right, though you’d rather make your own stupid decisions with your own deserving retaliations.

“I’m fine, thanks Webber.” There’s attitude dripping from your tongue as you try to get him to leave. Things were awkward as is. You didn’t need his advice. “Worry about yourself, I’ll worry about me.”

He huffs and amused breath. “Don’t cry when things only end up his way instead of yours.” And with that he waves, almost loose and carelessly- as if he had enough of your antics. Accepting that he wouldn’t get to you.

You watch the back of his head as he readjusts the neck of the race suit. It’s like you were placing an evil curse on him because the second before he’d turn the corner, one of their crew bumps into his tall stature, causing their stack of papers to fall.
Not wanting to bear yet another stare down with Mark, you hurryingly opened Sebastian’s door, only to be met with a shirtless blond. Well he wasn’t- really -shirtless, all you caught was a glimpse of his midriff.

You blabbed an apology, a high pitched screech leaving your aching throat. It ended up being a tad louder than comfortable. Blocking your eyes away- your commotion caused the Red Bull driver to be similarly surprised by your intrusion.

Vettel, though, didn’t take as long to recollect himself. Quickly acting clueless to the entire interaction he furrowed his brows. “What? I’m-“ But you didn’t let him continue. Stepping back outside.

You shook your head shamefully. And when you were ready you turned around, seeing him staring down at you with a playful smile.

“Why’re you here?” Not addressing the previous scene was a good move on both ends.

“I’m here to uh,” your cheeks went pink, god you were an idiot. A true idiot to the core. Mark was totally right.

“We got Quali in an hour, I really haven’t got all day, I’m sure neither do you.” There was a part of his speech that you didn’t catch. The way he stumbled over one of the words, as though being careful of how he was perceived.

“It’s about the other night.” You clarified, rolling your eyes as though you were the one in control of the situation.

He shook his head, letting you in the room. “I already got what I wanted,” he answered swiftly. Taking a sip of his water. “Checo is getting priority this weekend” The words left his lips easily. Sebastian was so full of himself, driven by pride and attention. Not even you could manage your way up there- no matter how identical people wanted to see you two as.

You tried to compose yourself by letting out a chuckle. Fixing the hat on your head, you nodded for a few seconds. “Christian says he’s heard great things about me.” You blurt out before you could actually get to your point. “I’m honoured, really.” placing a hand over your chest to make it seem all the more dramatic. Though your shy voice didn't let up, you couldn't do it when those blue eyes bored into you.

“Christian is a bit of a liar-” Sebastian says, pulling up the deep blue suit over his shoulders, the way his muscles held tightly against the fireproofs underneath was sadly hidden away. “I don't know why you seem surprised though,” He mindlessly stepped around you in the tiny room. Opening his closet and grabbing his helmet before he could forget.

You bit at your lip, that was true, why were you surprised? Was it that this entire deal had originated from the concept of trust? But that was unfair! Sebastian had done nothing to make you believe he had been keeping up with his end until Chrisitian told you himself.

“But you didn't tell me” You retorted.

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, Christian can be a dick.” Grabbing everything he needed he stood straight, the sudden closeness between the two of you was beginning to really make you unstable.

Separating the rising tension, you decided it was time to focus on the original reason you'd come here. “He said they were prioritising Checo because of his DNF, he said you wont get anywhere listening to people boss you around,” You paused, seeing if you could get a reaction out of the older male.

Vettel ran a hand across his cheeks urging you to continue not saying a word. His eyes were trained on you, as if intrigued.

“He said he'd listen to an extent, don't be surprised when he does a little power move on you.”

Sebastian nodded for a few seconds, that same cheshire smile appearing. “Then I guess we’ll have fun right?”

No. Not at all.

—

Quali was a shitshow, Ricciardo 7th position, Button 8th, Vettel 9th, and you? 15th.

You could literally feel the frustration in the air wherever the four of you went. The tension was thick, everyone felt defeated before the show even began.

Sitting in your car on the actual race day, you just shook your head. You didn't know how you'd come back from this, you were at a huge disadvantage and all you could do now was hope your engineer would help.

The light signalled the start and away you went! The engines of the alike cars coming to life

You spent most of the 56 laps in a steady 8th place, making a few places. The others were somewhere ahead of you. Daniel for sure right in front. Problem was he wouldn't let you even try to pass.

“Let me pass!” You begged with a groan into your radio.

“Focus on the tires, don't stress over Ricciardo.” Your engineer sternly stated. “We are maintaining this strat okay?”

“But! Come on! I can do much more than this! He’s not even defending anyone but me!”

“Drive.” He repeated, scolding you for your behaviour.

You shook your head as you turned a corner.

“Unbelievable” You chipped, not letting up.

Jenson’s words dug into you,

You repeated that same phrase to Sebastian too, which obviously fired them up. But you didn't understand it, well not until you sat there in the car, restraints holding you back from going further. If Daniel couldnt overtake who was in front of him, then you definitely knew who could. Those last few races proved that.

You yelled an apology to your engineer on the other side and overtook Daniel when you found the opportunity to. Enabling your DRS you flew past him on the next straight you could. Whatever communication the engineers had was something along the lines of, just let her do it.

Your cheeks hurt from the aching smile you wore. It was Massa who Daniel was stuck behind. And while he may have had the upper hand with a Ferrari you just prayed to the graining gods you’d get the chance. And you did, stealing away his position.

“Nice job, Button- but we will have a talk about this later.” Your engineer warns you, but doesn’t want to ruin your gleeful joy emitting in response.

6th place tasted good, like a sweet you had been craving for months. But you didn't want to get too greedy.

Oh to bathe in that glory.

You maintained that position with your life, right to the end of the race. You felt pumped and proud of yourself. You had taken the advice given to you over and over again and applied it to the real thing. Could this be what Sebastian feels? The tightness in his throat, the butterflies in his stomach, and the loss of words after executing a plan just as envisioned?

You removed your helmet, and unzipped your suit. Humming a random tune as you insert yourself into the circle of your team. Their expressions did not seem impressed as you were.

“What?” You said, throwing your arms out as if waiting for them to point out the obvious.

“You weren’t supposed to overtake your own teammate” One of the head engineers is frustrated with your antics. Perks of having youth be the face of the brand you supposed.

“Well I did! I got us more points than Daniel could have!” You argue, trying to match his disappointed tone.

You clenched your jaw, wanting to fight further, and argue that you hadn’t just overtook Daniel but the car in front of him too! You were doing something for this team!

You let your hair down,, your locks free, a bit dishevelled but you had more things to worry about. Grabbing the hat your PR manager was awaiting you with.
“Button, I’ll be honest, it wasn’t the best idea-” She’s a kind Frenchwoman in her 30’s, Charlotte, her thick blond hair bunched up into a ponytail that is perfectly curved on the end. She wears a Toro Rosso kit just like any other worker there, and her green eyes pierce into yours, attempting to get her message across to you. But it doesn’t really work now does it?

You’ve known her for a few years now, Charlotte and your manager just follow you around the world. Jenson says you have two managers simply because you're so crazy- and while that was definitely a joke at the time, the present really shows- maybe it is worth having two managers.

You scoffed, dumbfounded how rather than celebrating they just brought you down. What a team…

You brushed it off, throwing a quite rude wave as you turned away. You practiced a few breathing exercises- ones you had found while scrolling through the internet. Nevermind that, your breathing had become erratic again as you finally approached a screen- everyone's positions posted for all to see.

Oh…

P1 F.Alonso

Your eyes dragged down,

P4 S.Vettel
P5 J.Button

The four of you were back to back once again. But seeing Vettel's name not on the podium or the winning stand, you felt…bad? No, obviously not, it was more like you had failed. What had gone wrong? Wasn't Sebastian supposed to translate your information in a way to get that championship?!

Would he blame you?

“What the fuck was that, Button?” Daniel came over to you, practically stomping with each step. He had barely gotten off his gloves, his helmet covering the rest of his frustrated features. All you could see was the way his eyes narrowed- almost in a dangerous way.

You widen your eyes at the sudden closeness of the Aussie. His PR manager put an arm in front of him, saying words you didn't focus on.

You swore there was also a camera behind, stalking the scene.

You glanced around, your own manager shaking her head profusely. You couldn't reply, of course you couldn't!

“I did my job, Daniel. The one you did not.”

Daniel stepped one step too close, causing you to push him away. Putting your hands on him.

“Oh fuck you!” He spat, flipping you off. “You are such-” He finds it impossible to put your actions into words. “You are a brat, Button!” He’s riddled with disbelief. Daniel cannot possibly comprehend your decisions- he’s never seen someone be so full of their ability.

The cameras around you panned, capturing both of your reactions.

Daniel challenges you to urge on, knowing just where all the media was- surrounding the two of you with their dirty grins plastered.

How was this on you?

You frowned, smothering a hand up to the cameras- pushing them away. You’ve had enough, some of your team tried following suit but all you could do was curse under your breath. Marching into your driver's room.

What you hadn’t noticed was the Blond Red Bull driver, his helmet perched between his arm and hip watching you unfold. His eyes stuck to you. He was angry in his own right, not finding himself on the podium at all.

But seeing you fluttered a different reaction out of him. A smirk itching at the corner of his lips.

Entering your room, you screamed. One so guttural your throat surely tears in half. Your fingers buzzed with numbness, your head, light. Perhaps you were blowing this situation out of control.

You craved more than what you bargained for. Your shaking hands, stared back at you before you covered your face.

The emotions were steadily rushing in. You weren’t sure how to contain the anger, throwing whatever you could to the floor. Letting your anger out on a bouquet of flowers you bought yourself as a good luck charm.

You didn’t need it.

Nor did you need this glass, that you once took everywhere with you, the details etched into it were flowers mimicking the debris following behind a race car, one your father gifted you on one of your birthdays.

In the tiny room, there you stood in the middle of chaos- with no one to trust.

As you always would be.

Chapter Text

With the anger that boiled within- you hadn’t noticed a deep cut you inflicted. It was bearable, to an extent. Going unnoticed until you spotted the red liquid at your feet. The crimson iron smeared against the wooden floor. Some even slid the leather couch. What a scene. Lifting your arm you winced, it wasn't so bad but the amount of blood everywhere made you gag.

Perhaps you’d gone a bit overboard.

The shard of glass had somehow dug into your skin, in a rather nasty way. The etched marking was gruesome- nothing was pretty about it. You could already tell it would heal awfully. A jagged line, wrapping around your forearm, it wasn’t too deep. As much as you should’ve tended to the wound- at some point you just left it, allowing the bleeding to end on its own. Nothing but some gauze and medical tape holding it together. Dousing the cut in alcohol and hoping for the best.

This was some sort of sick punishment for your shameful defeat.

Everyone pushed you around, yelled at you like they all were innocent angels. It was unfair, so unfair that when the tears rolled down your cheeks you weren't sure if you could stop them.

Perhaps it was the pain, or maybe it really was your feelings taking control.

You didn't understand it, you were doing nothing different than the other drivers around you.

Week of Bahrain Grand Prix -

On the plane enroute to Bahrain you found yourself mostly in the bathroom, nothing but a wincing mess. Dabbing the alcohol over the cut over and over again. It never seemed to stop or heal properly. But you had to make due with what you had, right?

The whole reason you were going to such lengths was the simple fact of being worried it’d affect your ability to race. So you kept it under heavy wraps- literally. Practically begging your managers not to tell a soul. While Charlotte, your PR manager was not keen on this, Alain on the other hand agreed- for your sake. He obliged, willingly.

Twisting the thin layer of gauze around you stared into your tired eyes, your dishevelled locks, and horrible posture. Perhaps you spent too many sleepless, crying nights worrying about nothing that truly mattered. Arguably though, your period may have been partly responsible.

You’ve been called out on all your mistakes all week. So much so, even the media was getting wind of it. The comments piling up, both negative, backhanded, positive, or just plain disgusting.

Your eye bags hung low, you weren’t sure about this race. Everyone was more than already angry with you. The amount of calls, emails and meetings you had to discuss with the team over, your outburst with Daniel made you just groan.

It wasn't even your fault…
A woman trying to prove herself- and the world goes wild.

The team had forced you and Daniel to make a few posts together all throughout the last week. All happy and best friends to create a shift in attitude, as well as the hope of your friendship suddenly rekindling. When the projects were released, you immediately watched the videos back. Biting your nail out of anxiety, your eyes trained on your body language. As much as you were faking it- Daniel’s acting was horrendous. His laughs were strained, and neither of you would even dare to look each other in the eyes. The whole, ‘we are friends again’ performance was awfully overdone, and the fans could evidently tell. The thick tension could be felt from simply viewing it.

You shut it off, it didn't take long for you to hate yourself more. You could feel a dreadful sensation, knot itself inside your stomach. As much as you hated sulking,you spent the little free time you had between races doing nothing but that.

Landing in the magnificent city did bring up your spirits. The place was nothing but windows to the outside. You could see the skyline in the distance, if you only had time to really admire the place. Just as quickly as you smiled, the exciting buzz of a typical airport atmosphere, you frowned, spotting the last person you’d expect to see.

Sebastian.

When you turned around, parting your lips to get Alain’s reaction, he was nowhere to be seen. Leaving you stranded.

Standing out fairly obviously, you could point out the bright blond from miles away. His sky blue eyes darted everywhere, searching. It didn’t look like he had just arrived. His hands stuck in his pockets, observing every single person walking by. You were surprised he wasn't bombarded by fans, or paparazzi. You joined in, watching as families, couples, and awkward first meetings unravel, hugs and kisses all around. Trying to spot whatever Sebastian was.

You only flew in with your manager this time, you could recall he mentioned plans for a meeting that needed his urgent attention. Ensuring that he had arranged a ride to pick you up. You remember just nodding, going along with everything he suggested. Not taking a single second to ask anything further. Alain was a busy guy after all.

Spotting Sebastian made you totally freeze. You could feel your vision going blurry for a split moment, the anxiety gnawing at your chest. This was no foreign reaction, no it was so familiar that you were almost tired of feeling this way. Gliding your tongue against your chapped lips you attempted at calming yourself down. Gripping your carry-on tighter.

Vettel stood tall, his features were rounded in a casual manner. A bit far but you could tell clear as day how relaxed he really was. His jaw wasn’t the usual pulsasting clenched. His brows weren’t sunken together, and his lips were not in a permanent downturn. Instead he looked soft, patient and..apprehensive. His hair was tousled as he used a pair of sunnies to get them under control. He’s waiting for someone, similar to yourself. And you just hoped and prayed this wasn't what your manager “arranged” for you.

You tried texting Alain, spamming him with questions but he just ignored you. The ‘Read’ icon appearing below your message. Shameless.

You cursed to yourself, and decided on just ignoring his presence and heading straight to baggage claim. To sneak past him without being seen. Your hands sweaty, and pace out of step. You could already feel your face burn into that soft pink colour, it's like you were allergic to him with this stupid flair up every single time.

You thanked whatever god was watching over you when you could see, just a few feet in front of you, your suitcase emerged from the belt.

Lightly Jogging the rest of the way, you decided that if you didn’t look his way he wouldn't notice you. Out of sight, out of mind. Your heart beats through the cavity of your chest. Your entire cardiovascular system’s working overtime. All out of fear you’d be spotted by a boy.

Bending over you went ahead to clasp the bag as if freedom was just beyond, you can taste it, your fingers brush against the material, only until hope comes crashing down. Seeing someone else reach for your luggage, you grumbled. Closing your eyes, mentally preparing yourself- willingly retracting your arm away. You had to relieve that pent up strain, you were not going to make a fool out of yourself today.

You immediately part your lips, prepared to argue. And as your gut had been calling out for you the past ten minutes, there Sebastian was, a bright smile plastered across his face. Up close you could actually take his figure. He wore those same white-rimmed shades from the night in China, this time around though, he wore a pair of stylish baggy jorts and an oversized tee. It wasn't special- no. so it didn't get much of a reaction out of you this time.

Again, not like you cared. A girl can enjoy criticising outfits.

“Welcome to Bahrain!” He spread his arms out, as though the view was in this rather grand airport. He had dragged your suitcase down by his side, drawing out the handle he wraps his fingers rather carefully around. You already could tell his demeanour was off. He was nice to you, sure, but not this nice. His attitude was through the roof and his ego nowhere to be seen.

“Oh Uhm…yeah- thanks.” You said softly, extending a hand, in order to claim your bag. Though Sebastian only pulled away, being difficult. Wiggling a finger in your face.

You tilt your head, similar to Jenson’s habit- an attempt to get another perspective on his behaviour.

“I was sent here, to grab you! Got here this morning- and god it was busy!” He ignored your previous statement and simply winked, going on with his series of events. “But then you guys got delayed for a few hours, kinda wasted my time…” He rubs the back of his neck. Was it really irking the blond this bad to be kind? Even for a second?

“Right,” you said, deflating slightly. If the past week wasn’t as confusing and horrible enough, Sebastian was here to drive you to the hotel. This was a nightmare, all your fears compacted into one singular being. Sebastian…

On another note a realization hit you. The last you spoke to Sebastian was since you warned him about Jenson’s ideas and his failed win in China. You just assumed he was ignoring you, or upset.

Not that you’d care, of course.

Or maybe you did. You terribly did and couldn’t manage to shake it off your shoulders, weighing you down with guilt.

Sebastian turned on his heel, looking over his shoulder, his head gesturing for you to follow. Flashing his teeth to you, his lips parting ever so barely.

“I really doubt someone asked you to do a favour.” You lagged behind by one step.

He paused for a second, his eyes widening. He drags his gaze from your hands on your hips, to your eyes no fluttering from his. Sebastian, clearly trying to see if you’re joking. With the discovery of your quite stone cold look causes an eruption of wheezes leave his throat. “You-“ he cut himself off, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh my-“ His laugh was so…addictive, so severe that you didn’t know what to think- how to think. How terribly obnoxious. So the only response you did was laugh along, quietly and a tad awkward-er.

“Oh you’re hilarious Button…” He trails off catching his breath as the two of you headed towards the car park. The sun hits your cheeks, and suddenly you aren’t as cool and breezed as you were prior. The rays embed themselves into your skin. Beads of sweat are threatening to spill.

“I was serious…” you deadpanned, confused, lifting a hand to fan yourself, exasperating a sigh for the sake of your sincerity.

This was Sebastian Vettel, the one you didn’t trust your drink with, not because he’d poison it, but because he’d drink it and convince you, you had. The one who forced you into a nasty deal, The same Vettel who held 3 world championships.

And here he was acting so…strange.

You rubbed the back of your neck, utterly distracted by his sudden performance.

He rummages in his pockets for the key fob, not even looking twice at what button he was mashing. He just hummed, pursing his lips getting into the driver's seat Climbing into the awfully expensive Porsche you assumed he rented or the team had lent, you took the time to stare out in the alluring sights. He drove with one hand lazily on the wheel, the other tapping against his thigh to a melody he couldn’t stop humming.

The lack of speaking fills the air comfortably, but that doesn't stop your thoughts from running rapid. Awaiting his true motive to reveal themselves. Fiddling with your finger tips you just remained in your own bubble for the meantime. You didn’t want to take any chances.

Sebastian was like a nuke, or something…

You directed your focus to the setting sun life of Bahrain. It was like another world than what you were used to. You took it in like it'd be your last, as you did with any country you visited for work. Leaning your head towards the window you began to feel the tiredness of the flights overcoming you.

Fluttering your eyes closed, unable to fight the urges you sighed in a whisper. Resting your muscles. As much as it was an uncomfortable ride, it was just Sebastian it’d be fine-

Or not, because he cleared his throat, not wanting to startle you. Opening one eye you tilted your head a bit, just enough to see the slight frown placed upon him. Here we go.

“I didn’t listen,” Sebastian started, as though you would automatically know what he was talking about. “I just trusted whatever he told me.” He glanced over to you, trying to see what you'd say. Your attention however, remained towards the window, your face concealed. All he could see was your narrowed eyes- he took this as an invitation to continue on.

“That’s why it was such a mess.” You snuck a glance. Surprised at his confession, both hands gripping the steering wheel now, clearly hating it himself. You flashed him a nearly overly shocked look before collecting yourself, taking a second to ponder his words. Until you realized what this all meant.

“So you picked me up to see if I talked to him.” Disappointment would be a rather insignificant word to describe how you felt- but you tried to ignore it.

Sebastian shrugged, “Then again you lied.” The words spewed out faster than you could anticipate.

You opened your mouth only to be caught off guard. “What…” You said, turning slightly in your seat. “I lied? How?” You sat up, not so exhausted anymore.

He nodded, “Why’d you lie? So you could pass Daniel? Snag a win from under my nose?” Sebastian was trying to be snarky- or something. But it was clear he was nothing more than serious.

“I didn’t try to do anything, I tried to help you!” You said, now turning your body as far as away from him as possible.

He could see you from his peripheral vision, eyes focused on the road. “They werent equally prioritized, Checo was- Jenson just fucked with the strategy.” He spoke with a scoff.

“And you wanted to have this conversation now? When it's a new week?” You asked, similar to a child being scolded. You fold your arms against your chest. Huffing and puffing a few breaths. How unbelievably.

“I was being kind, letting all the Daniel stuff blow over, let you get your head back in the game” So he could bring you back down? “But, no, I don’t care if you lied or not. I was mad that day but-” He ran a hand through his blond hair. “Quali didn't go as ideal, it could've been either.” He let out a frustrated breath, quickly glossing over his mistakes, not wanting to dwell.

“I didn’t lie, I helped you and got my team points. I can’t possibly win races in a Toro Rosso.”

“I did.”

“Once, Sebastian, just like myself”

Dragging a tired hand down his face he glanced at you, “Work with me.” he spoke, seriously. His blond lashes flutter a bit drowsily, “I thought about it, if we worked together then nothing can go wrong,” Sebastian then chuckled, bitterly, “Besides, it’s not only you everyones mad at.” He related to you, a unique relation not many could say they’ve experienced. All the drivers are hated for something, but you and Sebastian shared that sentiment. Because the world hated you both for your stupid- reckless- selfish attitude.

It didn’t take clues to see the way Fernando always clenched his jaw. He’d be furious, realizing Vettel was above him in points. Or the way Webber purposefully pushed him off the track in Turkey a few years ago. He was a beast in that car, and it amazed you, but how could you possibly help him?

“We have code words,” He began,and you watched him, eyed him, consumed him. Sebastian steals a few glances at you. Awaiting your answer. Perhaps he too was just as unsure? You felt…honoured. He wasn’t your teammate but you thought of how it would turn out if he really was, you guys understood each other in a way. Competitiveness ran through both your veins- that aggressive turmoil of desire that strung you both closer to your goal.

“Each one represents one driver, you hold them off if they are a threat. It’s simple. Perhaps I can even promise a number 2 finish?” He bribed, taking his hand off the wheel to gesture. His round cheeks lifting so high his eyes were closed in a smile.

The German was convincing, convincing enough that when you got to your hotel room, like many times previously, you shot him a text. Confirming involvement. Appalled with your new task, you knew it would be dependent on your ability. Maybe that stunt with Daniel didn’t go for nothing? On the contrary this was easier in a way. No pressure. It was more so an inside job than out, and you’d rather it be that way.

He kept you under his spell well. So well that you received pole position for the first time that weekend.

–

You jumped up and down, your spirit and light coming back to you, completely forgetting all about the last two weeks. China was a nightmare, but Bahrain was a dream. You stretched your smile from end to end. It hurt, swelling your cheeks as the beading sun melted your face. You hugged your engineer, your managers- even finding Jenson. He screamed proud affirmations, taking your helmeted head in his hands and shaking you around.

How was this even possible?! Was this luck?

You did your victory pose, and while sure- you haven't actually won anything, this meant just as much as a maiden win. With two peace signs in the air you were acting like your old self all over again. Your team congratulated you on the achievement, and so did Daniel, patting your shoulder firmly, stiffly. Solely for the sake of the cameras. Not wanting to shed more light to your burning ego. You may have been currently angry at the male but he was trying. And having bad blood wouldn't help in the long run.

Jenson, who got 10th position hugged you tightly. He didn’t seem too bummed today, which made you glad. “Look at you go!” He expressed, jokingly, like a proud father.

Things were finally back to normal between the two of you and you were relieved, you still felt that nauseous pit in your stomach but as the weeks stretch on they become bearable. You learn to live and regret, you gotta to get what you want.

And as you chit chatted a certain blond walked over, his hair ruffled all over the place, same as yours and Jensons, the sweat sticking to your face, the weather doubling the need for water. “Good job Button- not you Jenson, you're not even in our league.” Ouch, that was a little double sided jab. What did Jenson know of your kindling friendship, sportsmanship and secret?

You smiled, a bit…forcefully, biting your lip. “Thanks Sebastian. It means a lot.” Were the meekly, childish sounding words to escape your mouth.

The German smiles softly. His eyes linger for longer than they should. The crinkles disappear in his features. His downward smile showed through. As much as you wanted to believe he was lying. He wasn’t. He was as genuine as he could be. “Yeah…” Sebastian replied- suddenly turning back to your brother. Sensing the delusions of the heat getting to him.

Jenson, rather than finding his words offensive, snickered. “I think I just want an excuse to go out tonight.” He suggested, nudging the two of you.

You snorted at his comeback, “Yeah, if you want we can go out tonight.”

“Let me join!” Vettel butted in, putting a hand to the air, it was clear he was invited in the first place- yet still found the need to insert himself. A huge smile is written over his face. He was honestly proud of your first pole, and what better to do than to celebrate? He tried to convince himself he was upset but something expands inside. Like a heart growing two sizes too large.

You shook your head, “I was being sarcastic, the race is tomorrow, I’m not going to get in even more trouble, people just started being happy with me again.” Your reasons were valid, so valid that simultaneously they let out a groan. Both annoyed at your statement.

Later on in the evening, alongside Sebastian, Red Bull and Toro Rosso’s principals, and engineers cooped up inside the Red Bull designated hospitality building for a meeting.

It didn't take long for you to gather that this was plainly a debrief to them. You assumed that they simply banked on your involvement in their new scheme.

Sometimes you’d lay there, in bed wondering how you got here, to become who you were now. Last season you were everything but complicated. You were now seated, surrounded by the team you prayed and sobbed every night to be on- what a turn of events. If this entire ordeal really brought on such awful outcomes, you were taking the biggest risk someone could take in their career.

You spent a chunk of the long night revising each and every code for every driver and how to react- what to do, say, act. Like cramming for an exam, but to you this was far easier- you hoped anyway.

Leaving Red Bull hospitality at nearly 2 in the morning, you stretched your arms up to the sky, the moon offering the slightest of light it could. Following you outside the doors, waving to your coworkers, Sebastian offered to drive you back to the hotel. A strangely generous streak, but you took it anyway.

A hidden smile playing across your lips.

Settling into the same vehicle from earlier he takes a few minutes to gather his thoughts. His Adam's apple bobbing with anxiety, opening and and closing his mouth a few times- until he eventually finds the words. “Thanks,” He begins, his eyes never leaving the road. “I mean it,” Perhaps it was the way the tiredness in the air made you feel, but you swallowed nervously. Sebastian is soft spoken, in a near awkward manner.

“For…?” You trail your words off, rubbing at one of your eyes. Turning to face the blond, you drag your eyes all across his facial features. you hadn’t noticed before, the anxiety eating at you but, he cut his hair, the sides buzzed off while he leaves his slight curls free. You were so unsettled near him that you forgot to truly take him in. This new style suited him, those fluffed locks would be missed though.

“For going along with the team.” He responds, almost obviously. Sebastian ensures though, his mind racing, gripping the wheel a bit tighter- that he hadn’t singled himself out. Yeah, it was the entire Red Bull team that wanted you, not just him.

“I just want that seat.” You found yourself yawning covering your mouth in the meantime.

“And I want that fourth title.” He says after a moment.

Stopping at a redlight your eyes meet. The two of you sat in silence, just staring realizing just how blindly alike you truly were. Sebastian’s eyes darted down, flickering his attention between your features. But you refused to catch on, you weren’t sure you could handle that level of delusion. So, inevitably, you were the one to break the contact. Fidgeting with your hands.

“We’ll get it.” He confirms clearing his throat.

The light becomes green.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “We will.”

You could keep telling yourself how you haven't decided what you wanted out of life, but it seemed your heart made a choice long before you had.

Chapter Text

You woke up too early that morning, and with how the night prior had gone, you oddly felt…okay. No nerves to fight your conscience, and definitely no issues on top of everything to rile any sort of off reaction out of you.

You glanced down at the gash while you changed, it still hurt, terribly so. You could tell it would definitely scar later on, but for now it remained buried, ushered to the back of the chambers of your loud mind. Whether you should’ve gone to a doctor to get it stitched or not was out of the question now, besides, it behaved. The wound spent the last few days doing nothing but irritating you, that once you’d cleaned it up today- you could see, it didn't decide to hurt at all.

You whispered a ‘Thank you’ under your breath. Closing your eyes in prayer.

Perhaps it was the pole position that made you anticipate today's events, waking up on the right side of the bed. Or maybe it was him. He counted on you for success, to deliver your all, you could feel the determination. It ran in your blood- a familiar buzzy feeling twisting within your stomach. Someone had seen your ability, noticed it for what it was, and not just who it was.. Your gender didn’t play a role in this, nor did your name. You knew he was sincere in that manner, because when it came to Sebastian- every action he did was for himself. The selfish man saw such narcissism in you that if he stepped inside your mind he was sure no one could tell you apart.

He trusted you with his ability.

Regardless you grinned, arriving onto the paddock, your smug attitude dripping from your eyes- to the rhythm of your hips with each swing in step. Every way was full of busy mechanics, marshalls, drivers. The hot April sun of the Middle East was beating down onto you perfectly, reflecting a bright- blinding hue off your locks you had carefully spent braiding all morning. A part of you had wished you spent the day tanning by a pool, soaking in all the vitamin D you could. But work is work at the end of the day.

The performance tonight would be phenomenally grand to those who understood. You felt confident in your skin, your skills, every bit of you dripped with an ego not even your own brother could weigh down.The crowd is in for a show of their lives.

Sebastian, while wandering the paddock, towards his own garage, he catches sight of you. You oozed with a near arrogance demeanour that he laughs- audibly- earning your burning attention. And with a tooth aching smile sent his way he returns a peace sign. presumably mimicking your victory pose. He, too, seemed prepared, just as narcissistic as you.

You grinned in response, feeling your heart pick up pace. It took you a buffering second before you were able to function again. In return- finally -you mirrored Sebastian’s signature “1”, tilting your smaller hands just as he does.

It was like your walls falling ever so slightly. Watching him continue on, you felt defeated, your face drooping a bit. Disappointed in the lack of time, you trained your gaze to the back of him until he was out of view. His weight carried the exact same influential smug you had. It took a few beats until you shook your head, forcing yourself from the trance. He was not even there anymore but you replayed the interactions the last few days again, over and over until you had forgotten bits and pieces.

Not too long after you were changed into your suit, and helmet you could feel at ease. For whatever it was worth, all the stress had dissipated, turning a blind eye to every single one of your struggles. The anxiety, the gash, even Sebastian.

Waving to everyone, holding up their British flags as they spotted you arriving at your first place position on the grid, you stuck a fist in the air in response. The young girls in the stands, screaming your name. They saw themselves in you, someone who showed their potential, where they too can be. That it was possible to be just like the others in this sport.

This was a drug, one so superficial, your cheeks hurt, heart beating out of your chest you felt confident you could get Vettel his win, yours too. Everything was possible, just beyond your grasp.

The traffic lights not soon after, signalled the beginning of the race. With first place you could feel the seventh sense of your expertise kick in. You let the sun burn through your suit, the sweat dripping from your nose and into your mouth, the salt of your efforts. No fruits here. You were drenched in a slick layer of perspiration. It clung to you so uncomfortably that you used all your might to ignore it.

Everything that had been discussed, and gone over the previous night was nothing but hypothetical routines. The two of you at the time decided to try it out through a gaming console that sat in one of the rooms collecting dust. There was no sim to help you- the team highlighting the fact that it had broke, the only practice being the actual practice sessions. So when you turned on the game the two of you sat there, a bubble apart, theorising on the potential threats of other drivers. There wasn’t much to send home on, it was strictly work- despite your chasing thoughts.

Sebastian arguably is the best driver on the grid, to you anyway. But that car also helped with all the extra push he needed. You, too, were talented and a strong driver, your STR8 on the other hand…was certainly no Ferrari. That thing depended on you.

Now, in the present the image was far more clear, and just like a video game you could feel the mimic of hand movements and steers. Sebastian swerved and turned identically to the way the game played out. You copied, trying your ultimate best to do the same. The car fell back more than you expected, you could practically feel it slip from your fingers, with panicked hands you fought for control. Your engineer seemed to notice this as well,

“Doing a great job, Button, keep it pushing, Vettel is 2.34 seconds behind you.” He was encouraging, hoping to get you back on solid ground. The time to switch places was nearing, and if you lagged any more than you were now, you knew things would just falter. As much as you were panicking- this was not your first time in the cockpit. Rejuvenating support of your team is all you needed, you waited and waited until your engineer signalled you, the words echoing through your mind.

“Sebastian closing in 0.4, fight for that position.” On the terms of the only few people in on the ordeal, you knew what it meant. Mess it all up so bad you won. It would practically be impossible to hold first, at this rate, but with the strategy Sebastian had assured you of, you could surely hang onto second.

“No problemo” You sing songed into the radio. The confidence suddenly filled you to the brim- you were overflowing.

The vehicle fits right into the palm of your hands. And you waited, driving up until turn 4, turning on the edge, Sebastian flew by you, and you swore for one split frame that he threw a salute your way.

You watched in awe. He had such control of his car, that to him it wasn't a glove- no not like you- it was a part of him.

You cursed into the mic, keeping up the facade. What the audience couldn’t see was the filthiest grin plastered across your cheeks.

Without Sebastian helping your position anymore, you had to ensure your help succeeds. Returning the favour, you swerved every which way to not allow Webber to get even near. Hoping to create a gap between all three of you. You could just imagine Webber’s curses in his own space. Screaming for you to drop the defence.

As he inched closer, using all that he could, you realized, that old man just never gives up. Probably fueling more of a deeply rooted hatred for you. Webber was becoming more aggressive the more he sped through each turn and twist on your tail. And you were getting sick of it- no way were you gonna let him toy with you.

There was a split moment, when he drove up next to you, so dangerously close that he’s forcing you into a corner, the striped lines taking all four of your tires from the concrete.
“What the fuck is he doing!” You complain, “I’m gonna crash!” You felt the wheel come undone in your grasp. It took all of your years of training to adjust your grip, straining it back into place.

Throwing an enraged arm into the arm you shook your head. Repeatedly clicking your tongue. You were not impressed at all. “I’m not getting a penalty for that, tell Webber to give my position back!” You screeched into the radio. “He can’t do that!”

“Copy” Your engineer responded, there was a heightened sense of focus in his tone, and you both knew why.

Webber on his end erupted in a sort of belly laughter, “That’s what you get, Button.” And if you could hear him in those moments you would have definitely steered yourself into him, crashing the both of you.

Of course though, you would never give in to impulsive thoughts- not when there were more important matters to attend to.

“He still has to pit, soon, just wait it out, don’t let it up” Your engineer came back to the radio, hoping to fill you with some sort of good news. Or in the team's words, clasp your hands together and wish upon a miracle.

You fussed about it under your breath. Arguing a bit back and forth before being sent into the realm of silence seeing Webber did indeed go for that inevitable pit stop, handing you back that upperhand you desperately needed.

Now, it was like you had to fight off the biggest monster possible.

Kimi. It was like he came out of nowhere, the 2007 world champion on your tail, but not enough for you to cry about. At least someone was fairly steering their wheel. You sucked in a breath, not even giving him the false satisfaction of getting near you. It was too late to make any more mistakes. Not after what Webber pulled.

Kimi was effortlessly talented, and to you it was like he didn’t even care. He knew he was good and that was all the confidence he needed to drive.

Lap 54 came and went, with only a few laps left you felt confident. The Lotus driver nearly 20 seconds behind was more than humorous. You couldn’t ask for anything more than to show off your abilities, prove that you were the best. Your raw talent needed to supersede Daniel. And the way the team was slowly learning to value you, proved just that. Today would confirm it.

Lap 57, a sudden sense of anxiety overcame you, maybe it was the way your body scorched from the heat of the setting, or the way your conscience was handed back to you, but the crowds, cheering and the hollers were ringing inside that empty head of yours. In the distance you saw the commotion of people, just barely ahead.

The cheers erupted, the chequered flag waved, laughter and tears were shed. You slowed to the end and didn't waste any more time, jumping from the car. You found your team, waiting behind the barricade just as they did the first race of the season. You lept into their hugs. The white noise buzzing of all the screams sustains the last bit of energy you had left. Once you were free from their grasp you gasped at the amount of fans cheering for you. You ran back over to your car, throwing that signature peace sign in the air, it captured the atmosphere perfectly. The crowds somehow become louder at the sight of your now iconic move. They loved it.

From the corner of your eyes you could see Sebastian, jumping up and down, that excited look on his rounded features. The way his helmet flew off made his drenched hair flop over his brows. You echoed his movements taking off yours as well, not realizing just how out of breath you were. The very slight breeze finally hitting your cheeks.

Sebastian was shaking hands with various other drivers that came to congratulate his win, as were you. With all the traffic around the track you didn't notice when Sebastian stood in front of you, throwing your peace sign up into your face. There’s the lightest of pink, sunkissed cheeks he wears on his sleeve.

Vettel may be intimidating, but he sure was a giddy guy.

A subconscious bone both stepped forward and backwards with the recognition of the individual. You, a tad shyly yet all the same excited, threw up his “1”. Sharing a laugh, it was unusual.

It's like the fog had slightly lifted over the two of you, your bubble no longer of any importance when it came to him. You didn't feel so choked up about his presence, while it still lingered, you felt like you could stomach it; getting used to it in the strange fever of the circumstances. Your mind so clear of the worries, you had forgotten a lengthy list of boundaries that had existed in the first place.

With the irony of it all, you both came out on top.

Stepping on that podium for the second time now, alongside Sebastian felt like heaven. If your accomplishments hadn’t blinded you enough of every value you carried, you wouldn’t have expected the way Sebastian's arms flew around you. One so tight and firm that he picked you up, his hands holding your waist like they fit there, a puzzle piece coming together, just right.

Being so caught up with the achievements you garnered that day, neither of you noticed the bubble disappearing. The hyper awareness of your warmth coming in contact with the Germans’ causes your emotions to flair, painting your skin with a pink flush.

You could hear him congratulate you, his words were all you could focus on. His lashes getting in the way, fluttering as his blue gaze never wavered from your own features. There was his hair, how it was your favourite part about him, hating when it was concealed under a hat. His perfect nose, or the way when he got too close his beard brushed against your cheek so delicately, like a gust of wind.

The reminder of your boundaries never once crossed your mind, his hands remained on your sides, swinging you to the first place podium, him following suit, hopping the steps. The two of you posing for all before sharing one last glance, one where you realized your mistake.

Dread kicked in, a flight response you both quickly correct yourselves without being too inconspicuous. You can hear him clearing his throat. A dust of embarrassment blooming over his usual paler skin. Sebastian side steps ever so slightly from your now reconstructed walls.

The fog returned, consuming the air you shared once again. The spell that was cast upon the both of you for those short moments were washed away just as fast as they flashed by. You knew what you had done was more than a mistake, and that’s what bothered you more. You both shared a purposeful scene. A willingness to celebrate your victory.

That sour, guilt taste of vomit sat at the back of your mouth. The shame that carried with your actions pained you. You had done something you spent so long maintaining, practicing, begging not to happen. It took a long beat to regain yourself. Planting yourself back where you belonged, you were granted the large chalice of a trophy, trying not to let the flurry of sentiments overwhelm you.

Popping open the false champagne the light inside you ignited once more. That thrust into the limelight of the great start to the season strode with you wherever you went. You held that message close, this was your moment and a mistake would never get you to slip so soon.

Still, one fact stood for all to see, after China you deserved this more than the world. Everyone in the stands saw the way Daniel barked at you, spat in your face or the videos that were pushed out.

You acknowledged this win wasn't a one man's job, no, Vettel and yourself were in this together. In the feverish luster this was a successful 1-2, like Webber and Daniel didn’t exist. But you still received this with the power you held.

Being greedy was the risk for the only reward.

Chapter Text

A steady breath was all it took to brace for the force of the jet. Strapped in with another pilot up front, you watched as the terrain spun around you at impeccable speeds. They say a driver should learn how to fly at some point right? Great perks for training, and no better chance than to use your time and well-earned money to jet-away when you had nothing better to do!

Your body remains still, despite the gravitational force practically smacking you in the face over and over again. It felt weird, but also freeing all the same time. It wasn’t far off from the sensation of being in a car every weekend, it just made your stomach churn and twist knowing you were far too high in the clouds. Your manager suggested you make it into a PR series, where you learn to fly for the fans. But to you this was an opportunity for yourself to feel divided, separated from your career. You never really got many opportunities to just be you anymore.

As the pilot tilts the plane far too left you got the most perfect view of your city. A view you never got to see every day. You sucked in a breath of anticpation as the plane rolled upside down. And as much as you wanted to close your eyes and be a scaredy cat you fought the urge and continued admiring the views. Small, short winded laughs followed each turn the jet continues to make.

At first you had been scared, petrified even, nothing could convince you to even be in the positon you were now. But after talking it over with Jenson he encouraged you. In regular brotherly fashion, he called you a baby. “How are you an F1 driver and scared of flying a plane?” You remember him laughing in your face, but last you checked he couldn’t fly a plane either. Then again, his argument was obvious- if you could drive a F1 car, there was no doubt you could do this.

Eventually, when you were allowed to try a hand at the controls, you discovered a new found hobby, it was no heartfelt, burning passion no, definitely not. But this was a new- unexplainable experience.

It also brought new meaning to becoming drained and tired. It was like taking ten plane rides all at once. Your body was nearly limp, despite sitting in the cockpit most of the day.

You collapsed onto your bed the moment your feet stepped through your apartments door. Your arm covering your eyes you could see the scar so close, it healed almost entirely leaving only deep reddish colour behind. Running a hand across it you let out a sigh, an exasperated one.

Sometimes you just have to accept your fate. And yours was to fight for your own good behind another’s success.

It didn’t bother you all too much, no. Or rather, you tried not to let it get to you. You were using these moments with Sebastian as a way to learn, in order to somehow be able to stand up for yourself. It was just that, along the way, you somehow had become hungry for more, but it really was an effort to grow as an adult. That’s what you kept telling yourself atleast.

Whether Christian had come up with the initial concept or Vettel, you felt chosen. Could anyone pull off what you have? Or no, could anyone? Finally relishing in the serneity of resting your eyes you drift off to sleep. You spent the entire morning busy- flying a literal jet, buying groceries and sending emails. You could almost feel forgetfulness itching at you.

Regardless, you hummed, feeling the dreams whisk you away as you thought about the chores that needed to be done. The dishes…the bathroom…laundry… you definitely needed to cook tonight.

“Five more minutes…” You mumbled to no one but the warm air uncomfortably filling your apartment. Your AC was broken, leavin you a sticky sweaty mess some days.

Your phone buzzed by your side, whilst you struggled through the heat. And while you typically ignored the endless notificiations, something urged you to check.

Suddenly, you leapt up, a realization hitting you as if it were a rock to the noggin. You peered your tired eyes once again, to ensure you weren’t playing any sort of tricks on yourself and an actual rock hadn’t truly knocked you out of gear.

It was nearing 5pm now, you had a booked flight in an hour, and the event that seemed to slip your mind so ungraciously was at 10. You had no more than 5 hours to get to another country and with that get ready for the- the…the what? Well whatever it was you had to attend.

You unlock your phone, finally going through the notifications that you so horribly never go through.

You physically facepalm, scrolling through the various reminders Jenson had given.

“The Gala is tonight.”

The Gala. That’s what it was, The Gala.

An extravegnant, unnecessary large Gala made to attract more sponsors for the team. And of course, those sponsors needed to speak with the stars of the show.

And just as you read the many messages left by your displeased brother, your phone took over, a screen with Jenson’s name and the ugliest photo of him flashed before you.

You closed your eyes, laying back down onto the bed. Not even bothering to say anything, his thick British accent rang through your ears. He wasn't exactly thrilled to see you not only ignore his texts but not even a “Hello”.

“Where are you!” He screams into your speaker, there are a few curses that follow suit but you just made his voice nothing but whitenoise. Though his harsh string of words did make you decide on getting up- finally -to pack your bag. It was like your father was on the other side of the phone, yelling at you after finding out about your motorcycle you bought at 18.

Let’s just say that hobby was short lived. Weirdly enough.

“I’m literally almost there!” You argued aggressively back. Throwing whatever clothing items you could find. Though it didn't take long for you to remember that it was in fact not your dad, and you could respond to Jenson however you saw fit.

Underwear, thrown, clothes, thrown, bras? Obviously. Socks, thrown.

Oh! Right your dress!

You tried to fold the beautiful silk of the dress to the best of your ability and neatly inside. You were a bit unsure, you spent weeks going to stores with your manager, but you both just couldn't find anything that would work. Until you found the perfect gown. The one.

It was a beautiful deep blue colour, with thin straps hanging on each shoulder, and the perfect sinch to your waist before it flows down elegantly. It definitely had that Redbull flare to it. Charlotte paired the outfit with a pair of gold studded earrings, and a necklace, small Red Bull hanging perfectly in the middle of your chest.

It was so simple, yet so elegant, no- classy, that’s how you’d describe it. As much as you dreaded the evening, something about getting all dolled up and pretty for one night was tempting.

“I really doubt that.” He curtly responds, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Are you even in Monaco?”

“Am I even-“ you scoffed in truthful disbelief. “Of course I’m in Monaco, Jenson! Where am I supposed to be? Home? In London?!”

“If that’s where you’re about to reveal you are, please end the phone now.”

You took the phone from your ear, staring at the line like he was there in the flesh, somehow able to see your expressions you were rudely firing his way.

Jenson sighed for a second, letting you speak before deciding to answer his own question. “You gotta get here by 8 at least,” he says your name in utter incredulity. “Oh and actually book the ticket.”

Your eyes widened, glancing at the MacBook at the foot of your bed. Lightly touching the space bar, bringing it to life. The unpaid tickets you had been dozing off to that morning- to try and buy, but never did. And you knew at the time if you stared much longer you’d never make it to your training you had that morning.

You clicked purchase, “Good thing I didn't just buy them then, right?!”

“Train ticket.”

You spotted another tab at the top of the screen, groaning, all you had to do was click once again. “Seriously Jenson, leave me alone, I have it all figured out.”

“Call me when you get here, I’ll drive you to… well wherever you’ll be staying.”

You puffed out your cheeks. “Yeah, sure.”

You had no place to stay, but Jenson seemed to have trusted you to some extent and not being the irresponsible girl you really were, you just ended the phone. Letting him believe whatever he wanted for the time being. You couldn’t bear to listen to another minute of his lectures.

And just on cue, you sighed heavily. Watching the bag finally zip closed. You were sitting on top of it, hoping your weight could get it down. Which it had, with a bit of work. Standing, you brushing off the animated dust from your fingertips. It was only for a few nights, nothing to go too crazy over.

Just behave and pray it all ends well. But you already knew, you already could feel that nagging emotion tugging at your gears.

Red Bull had a one off Gala during spring break. One where they even went out there to invite drivers from other teams. Jenson being one of them, you just believed it was because of his relation to you and with all the media coverage being there. They probably thought you’d be more disciplined with a babysitter. That’s what your PR manager advised you to keep in mind, anyway, and you wouldn't be surprised if that's what Tost personally spoke to Jenson about, if they did.

You groaned loudly. That was exactly why you didn’t buy the ticket, it was coming back to you. You were going to skip it all. You hated that feeling of being controlled, being blamed, being tossed like you were nothing. And most of all you hate the media. When the interview is not race centred you found no interest in it. It's not that you looked down at the journalists, but there were only a few you were comfortable with, and you just hated the weird questions, being pushy. The questions that would be asked would be nothing but general. Wanting to know about your life, aspirations, dating, kids, it was moments like those where your gender was truly separated amongst the men in this field.

—

Not wanting to drain the money you so reluctantly spent, decisively, you put the remaining energy into getting to the airport. Thanks to Jensons wake up call- literally, you don’t think you would have made it.

Getting through security, you quickly put the cap back over your head, not wanting to be recognized, not in these conditions. Not that many people did stop you on the street all that much, but just a sort of precaution. You could already see the posts in your head, sloppy young driver late for her own event.

So much for saving yourself another Franz Tost scolding.

The flight to Nice wasn’t so bad, sending emails, contacting a few sponsors back. Looking over some game plans, boring stuff. So you actually took the time to sleep the final few hours.

Only to wake up to a call, oh how people love to call when you land from flights.

Vettel's name covered your screen, and like always you felt that unwavering feeling of guilt and shame crush your short moment of positivity.

“Are you gonna be there tonight?” He hummed a tune, clearly busying himself on the other side but you couldn't tell what, so you focused on attempting to imagine. Maybe he was staring into his reflection. His tie is a bit slanted, his brows smushed together as he tugs and loosens it until he is satisfied. His tongue gliding against his upper lip in extensive focus. You were a creep maybe, but you just wanted to know more about the blond. You curiosity eats at you like a drug most days

Once he doesn’t receive a straight answer out of you, he clears his throat. Probably used to your odd mannerisms.

“I guess yeah,” You sighed, finally responding, conveying your exhaustion. “I just got to Nice, actually, not even near” You admitted, finding that Sebastian wouldn't actually make an effort to yell at you like everyone else in your life. Or on second thought, he might as well. You deserve it.

It was Sebastian's turn not to respond now, which brought increasingly more dread as the milliseconds went on. “Do you know what you have to do tonight?” He questions, hesitantly.

You quirk a brow, glancing outside the window. No one had gotten up just yet. The plane still driving to its designated gate. “I suppose I will once you tell me?”

Sebastian continues humming in between every pause, as if paying attention to you and whatever task he was working on- in your mind it was his tie. Still fiddling with the unpleasant way it sits across his body. “Daniel, Mark…They…aren't exactly happy about us, I just wanted to call and uh…” There’s a huff of air that’s passed between the two of you. He closes his eyes, and pinches at his nose. “I need you to watch your mouth tonight.”

“What?” You snap to your feet, and when people start staring you just pull the cap down to cover your embarrassed eyes. “What do you mean?!” You repeat with a normal tone this time, trying not to overreact.

“Things won’t exactly go our way if we mess this up,” He says your name, and that's when that string is pulled, your heart begins working over time.

You part your lips, asking for more, but the line goes dead, another ominous phone call from Sebastian that got you both nowhere.

You stared in awe. You could only assume your answers would be presented before you like the refreshments they would be passing out.

—

You grabbed one, placing it into your mouth, humming in delight. The starvation was getting to you. And you were praying to god with hopes that the dinner portion of the night would begin sooner rather than later. Jenson attached by your hip, In his own white tux to match his Mclaren colours.

“How did you make it?”’ Jenson asks, a glass in hand, swirling it absentmindedly.

“The…plane? The train- you know, the usual.” You said as nonchalantly as you could. “I told you I had it all under control.”

“That’s why your stuff is stuffed in my hotel room?” He takes a sip before offering you to try his beverage.

You shake your head, appreciating the gesture. “Well about that-”

A sky sports microphone was shoved into your faces, its a brunette woman you recinginze from many races and many interviews before. “Do you mind?” You didn't speak for a second. Too stunned to actually reply efficiently. You had more pressing situations on hand. But Jenson was quick. Adjusting his sleeves he shoots a charming smile to the camera.

“As long as it's fast, you promise?” He teases, unlike you, he enjoyed the act of interviewing. It was just so lively and interesting in his eyes. The words you would rather use to describe this phenomenon was easy, nosy.

She begins the intro of her segment, introducing the two of you which clicks something in your bones as you begin waving into the lens. Suddenly not so stuffed with anxiety. You had some sort of positivity floating around you, for the time being at least, it would be no fun if you weren’t at least trying to enjoy yourself.

“How do you think the last races have been, Button?” She refers to you, her eyes gazing up and down your dress. You couldn't tell if she liked it or hated the way it looked. Not that it mattered, you clutched the matching hand purse lightly.

“I think they were fantastic!” You beamed into the mic, giving the camera a classy smile. “You know, we all have our rough patches, but I’ll never let it get to me.” You expressively spoke to the woman.

She nods, allowing you to finish your sentence. “Some are wondering about your attitude though, some say you're aggressive, hot headed- not that there’s anything wrong with it!” She corrects herself seeing your expression turn. “People say you may have a championship on your hands-multiple even!” She kindly smiles, “A woman dominating a men's field is unheard of!” She continues on staring into the camera then at you again. “You’d be the first woman to do so- how'd that make you feel?”

You feel your cheeks heat up. Did people really think of you that way? That you had the ability to really do it? “I don't want to jinx my chances,” You politely turn her down, not inviting the public into your fantasies of winning just yet. “Come back when it really happens then I'll let you know what I’d do” You stick your tongue out cheekily before you and Jenson turn away from the camera.

You giggle, unable to contain the happiness that rushes through you. Having the media hate you for weeks and suddenly having the backing and support made you want to enjoy it for the time being.

Jenson had gone off, seeing some of his own driver friends among the crowds. You didn’t mind being alone, you suppose. Deciding to walk aimlessly, talking to whoever approached you, sponsors and familiar faces alike.

Appreciating the scenery of the grand event, you turned. In every corner there were lights illuminating every intricate facate of the elegant building, beautifully grown roses and various flowers you couldn't for the life of you name, stood lively. Inside though, you really were hoping to spot one person. The only one who understood you above all else. The only one you could somewhat bear.

A waiter, dressed in a black tux approached you. Balancing a display of champagne and miniature shrimp skewers, topped off with a bit of rich garnish. “They go great together,” He winks, keeping it professional, gesturing the round plate to you.

You went to shake your head when a looming figure grumbled out a laugh, grabbing a glass and accompanying stick of shrimp all for themself. “More for me then- Ah, Button,” He pretends.

You, confused, looked up at who it was, and to your appalling surprise Mark stood before you. That sculpted man wore a dashing suit in a similar blue colour to yourself. His hair is swooped quite tastly to the side, smoothed over with the slightest bit of gel, the fluff of his full head remains seen. Parting his lips, he gestures the piece of food your way, what he doesn’t know is you’ve been snacking on them all night- you didn’t need another one.

“You know,” he begins, “it’s just astonishing to me- this whole thing” He places a hand on the small of your back casually, swallowing the shrimp after a few chews. It made you physically sick, you hated the feeling of touch when it came from someone you never particularly got on with. Especially if it were Mark. The two of you went from being outside to the breezy inside of the building. His free hand stuffed in his pocket, his demeanour never wavering for one second.

“This place is beautiful- yeah, it’s kinda crazy we can be apart of things like these.” You reply, you’ve never spoken much to Mark, nor did you want to. He was far older than you. Far more experienced, he knew what cards would be dealt. You felt yourself tense up against his warmth. No matter how much you tried to inch away, you were only pulled right back in from the guide of his soft, tender fingertips.

“Yeah, sure.” He goes along with the narrative. You both knew what the conversation was really about anyway. “Is it really worth it though?” Mark stops for a moment and eyes you, as if the answers he was beating himself over for the past two months would appear. As if you would grovel at his feet. Confessing to your sins and revealing all that had been done.

You mask your reaction the best you could, still not understanding the underlying message beneath his smooth words- not to their full extent.

“I…” You trail off, your eyes darting to the area around the both of you. You could feel it, that same build up. The same one you couldn’t handle at the restaurant with Sebastian.

“You can try, do whatever you want. But that seat, it’s mine,” His cheeks lift, or rather suck into his molded features. Webber takes in your outfit for the night, placing his hand against your shoulder. Taking one of the straps between his rough finger tips. “It would be a shame, Button, to not have you around anymore. All because you tried to help blondy.” You don’t find the ability to move away. “Seb can try, you though? You gotta try harder.” He bends down to your height, whispering into your ear, before giving you a faux kiss on the cheek as a way to say his goodbye.

He leaves you, patting you three times on that spot he had kept on your back, before giving you a wave. “Think about it, I wouldn’t want a young girls career to go to waste, right?” Rhetorical question.

You stood there, stuck on the middle of the floor. Your hands had become shaky, your mind more clouded than it ever had before. the striking bullet of emotions hitting you.

Mark knew.

Mark knew everything.

You wish you were joking, oh how you wish you were. Your face becomes pale, your stomach churns, suddenly aware of all the eyes, the judging ones, kind ones, curious ones. You could feel the sweat in your palms, you glance down, noticing the way they left a mark on your dress, the colour darkening. Your makeup felt as though it were melting off, overstimulated by everything and anything. You could feel your heart thumping, cold to the touch, the undenying awareness that you would die there. Simply from a few words from some guy.

You couldn’t do it anymore- no you didn’t wanna do it anymore. There was no other reason for you. Not when these were the circumstances. Not when everyone on the face of the earth was battling for your well earned spot.

This was why he told you to watch your mouth. This was all a part of his agenda. To protect himself.

You didn’t notice the change in scenery, you were back outside, at one of the tables in the corner, but you didn't make it, whatever little food you ate that day was now splattered in one of the gorgeous pots you had complimented earlier. You wiped your lips, a bit of the gloss being smeared but that was the last thing you cared about.

You remained bent over, breathing heavily. A few stray tears ran down your cheeks, you wiped those, too. Hoping your makeup wasn’t too smeared, and messed.

Your name was called, once, then twice, until someone grabbed you by your shoulders, shaking you to your senses. It was firm, and urgent.

You swatted their arm away, stumbling back. An offended look crosses over your features, expecting, Mark again, there to ruin your night more than he already had.

And you stare- well you try to, through narrowed, teary eyes. All you could spot was the piercing familiarity of blues, caputaring your entire bodies function. Your body couldn't decide, as it always did- when he was around. Were you relieved or were you even more sick?

Sebastian.

“Are you okay?” He reluctantly lets go, realizing his overstep, and reconginxing your coming conscience.

“Am I? Okay?” You practically scream only for the older male to shush you, placing his finger over his lips. Earning you a few strange gazes but you didn't care, not after what he just put you through.

“Yes! Are you okay?” Sebastian lowered his head, maintaining that eye contact as if you were stabbed. There’s a glint in his own features that is convincing enough. Like he could convince you he cares, even a little bit. He lifts his hand, moving a strand of your now loose strands away from your misreble face.

It wasn’t just you that wanted to reach inside the others mind. He would never admit it, but seeing you like this. Sebastian wanted just a peak, and he couldn’t explain why- because he didn’t know himself.

“Mark.” You return, as if the male could answer the rest of your queries. But he just stands there, a confused look on his face, so you repeat yourself. “Yeah, Mark.”

“Mark…” He echoes back, and for a second it goes silent, Sebastian nothing short of stupid, or maybe just a tad, because you can practically see the cogs churning. Until it eventually hits him, his expression turning into a sheepish smile. “He’s nosy, just forget about him.”

“No, Mark knows, Sebastian!” You gesture into the air. “He knows, I-I know because he just told me!”

Sebastian’s face drops, carefully reading over your features. Not believing your words for a moment but the way you seriously looked like you’d hurl again, this time on him, made Sebastian guess otherwise.

“It’s Mark,” he finalises his best answer. “He’s number two, Christian’s getting rid of him at the end of the season anyways.” Sebastian ressaures. “How he knows though, is beyond me, but it doesn't matter what he knows.” He stands straight again, smoothing any wrinkles he has in his perfectly tailored suit.

“And? What if he does-“

“He won’t, you know why?”

“He will!” You argue back, not giving him a chance to speak. Perhaps Mark was right, maybe you were throwing out your entire future just for the attention of a singular guy?

Maybe you just needed a wake up call. You needed to be in this for yourself.

But you are, you are sure you are.

“You don’t get what this means to me!” You point to the middle of your chest, shaking your head in a slow rhythm. “I’m going through all of this for you, you are practically guaranteed to win. But what about me? Just sit here doing whatever you ask!?” You exclaim loudly. “I'm sick of it Sebastian.” You spat. “I need you to prove that you are in it for me, too.”

He purses his lips. Blinking in that gradual, soul sucking way- darting them elsewhere. You’ve clearly got him there. Or atleast you thought you had. “Fine, whatever you want,” Sebastian says your name in an almost cool manner. “ You get to choose, whether you wanna stay still sick of it all, but you’ll still help, because I know that's just the type of person you are. Selfish. I’ve been in it with you.” He counters, pointing a finger back at you. “I won’t be mad, clearly you’ve been through enough tonight.” His tone is passively aggressive, while yours turns melancholy.

You looked up at him, feeling the quiver of your lip faltering another tear spilling. He can see it reflected against the pale moonlight.

Even through the tears, and the smeared gloss, your perfect. And it leaves Sebastian, almost in a trance. An unspeakable one. Clenching his jaw shut, suddenly all the more aware of his language.

You lick your lips, fighting the urge to sob. “Is there a chance?” You question, finding the courage to speak up again.

“For Webber?” He asks rhetorically and shakes his head. “If it's not you, it's Daniel.” Sebastian takes a step back, his eyes going to the few stars in the sky. “And right now, I’m sure it’ll be you.” You could see them shine, some flickering, others brighter. Fighting for the world's attention.

Just as you two had.

“He’s a dick. Don’t worry about him.” You followed his gaze, trying to find what was so interesting in the sky. All you could see were the lights, contemplating their next move. They say that some of those stars are already dead, but the travel of light in space takes forever to arrive down to the earth's eye.

You wondered how long that would last you.

“You got here because you showed you could outperform the car.” Sebastian states, clearly relating to your words. “It’s not easy, but it's done, it's been done.” He switches his awareness to you again. “I think you deserve it.”

“This was my deal though, you’re talking like this was all you.”

Sebastian finally takes in your outfit for the first time that night, the dress of course was gorgeous, it complemented the toned muscles you always hid, under the many layers of your racing suit. But instead you were on display. All of you. Even the most insecure parts. He lowers his gaze past your bust, and onto your waist, where he could see the way your dress hugged your body confidently. Maybe, for the first time he saw…Button. Sebastian saw a-

“I was going to give it to you, either way.” Sebastian reveals, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. “It’s not my choice- that’s true-“ he hooks a finger under his collar pulling it from his neck. Avoiding his own miserable suffocation.

As you observed his own evening attire, you could see how a tiny bull of a handkerchief hung out his chest pocket. It was a cute little guy. Resembling the hat he wore when he won his first championship. This was different then his usual choice in clothing. This was more…put together. Kempt and fitted, but still Sebastian.

Every one of his rounded features were captured under the low light. The suit was a near exact blue colour of your dress. The fabric is expensive, and precisely holds him together, in ways you wish to see more often. The way he adjusted the cuff of the jacket, or the way he fluffed his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

To the outside world it looked like the both of you were truly matching. Inside and out.

“But why give away my plan when that’s what I wanted to give to you from the beginning?”

Your face flushes, shaking your head, shaking the thoughts and memories and odd sentiments from your mind.

“Because it never mattered, Sebastian.” You say stepping further from your teammate. “It won’t matter if we are just caught before we can even get what we want.” The reason in your voice cracks. “I’m not you-I’m not like you!”

Sebastian scoffs, finding those string of words hard to believe. “You haven’t looked in the mirror recently?”

You purse your lips, standing straighter. For the short burst of energy you had to snap at him you realized your original goal. The bathroom.

“I have, and I saw-“

Now that you thought about it, What did you see? Who did you see? All this time you could've sworn this was for you. For your successes. But what started it all? What caused those butterflies to begin erupting in the first place?

Whose image were you fitting into all these months?

Your eyes meet his, parting your lips, beginning your sentence before pushing past him and running to the nearest bathroom.

The truth was never something you enjoyed facing.

You found it easier to just throw up your genuine disparities than see them through.

And that’s how you left Sebastian alone that night, wondering how a conversation could never go right between the two of you.

Could it ever?

Chapter Text

Entering the part of the gorgeous building full of seats where everyone could sit and mingle while eating their food, happily. And sure you were complaining about being hungry earlier in the evening but now you were just picking at your food not finding it as appealing as it once was.

Jenson watched you, his face scrunched up. “Weren't you begging to eat earlier?” He hums with a mouth full of food. He’s been wanting to have a serious talk with you for months now, seeing how your behaviour has been snappy and all over the place. He tries to be a good older brother and parental figure but it's hard when you both live countries apart. And he probably thinks that it is on purpose, everything was on purpose when it came to you. A true pro when it comes to avoiding confrontation in regards to your own feelings.

You snap to your older brother before shaking your head. “Not anymore, I’d rather-”

“Welcome!” A deep voice on the mic calls over all of the tables. Christian Horner stood up on the stage, his arms extended his eyes going from person to person. Probably thinking about how every single individual’s been caught up in his dirty schemes, proud of it too. “It's a bit random, bringing everyone to Monaco right before Spain, but we do this to have a nice night, get to know each other, see if we can find some money laying around with all these sponsors!” He winks jokingly to the crowd, causing an uproar of laughs.

Jenson takes notice of the empty seats next to the two of you at the round table. He peers at the names that are supposed to be seated,

Sebastian.V
Daniel.R
Mark.W

This was obviously the Red Bull teams table but no one seemed to belong to the team there but you. “Are you supposed to be giving a speech?” Jenson decides to point out the only logical explanation for their absence.

You, sipping on your water, shrug, “Am I?” You paused, before you stood suddenly. “I am.” you rummaged through your bag for your speech, jogging away and left Jenson sitting. All alone now.

There were endless reasons as to why you didn't want to come, and many of them included the four men you were constantly running from. Jenson who you had to practically snitch on every coming week, Mark who is currently sitting in the seat you need, and Daniel, the one you are definitely stealing that seat from. Oh and not to forget the mastermind himself, Sebastian.

Going around the back and finding your teammate as well as the Senior Redbull duo, an animated sweat gland runs down your cheek.

“Look who finally decided to show up” Daniel snorts in a whisper. And you can only shake your head, trying to get him to stop. The other two turned to you as well, a silent bit of relief washing over everyone collectively. “We thought you were too busy making a fuss of yourself!” He says in a louder voice now.

You, becoming flusteredly embarrassed, smacks his arm with the loose leaf.

He rolls his eyes, clearly not caring about your attitude in return.

Recently your relationship with Daniel was only deteriorating, and as much as you wished to keep that bond, you knew by the end of this season there would probably be none to save.

Sebastian on the other hand is oddly silent, in his own world, reading his paper over and over and over again. At first you thought it was strange, Vettel being one of those people who just runs the program instead of letting the program run him. But it didn’t take too long, unsatisfied with the incoherent scribbles. He crumpled it up and shoved it into his pants pocket with a defeated sigh. Clearly whatever he had written down was unable to capture his thoughts.

Webber smirks seeing just how awkward this entire scene seems to be for the four Red Bulls. Like he was craving, waiting for this evening. Despite his own unsettledness, he bathes in it, afterall you couldn’t possibly complain when you are the reason things are the way they were.

You tuck a loose hair behind your ear, sheepishly taking a few steps back, to ensure separation.

Mark catches your eye, giving you a small nod. Whether it was in relation to his earlier statements, or not, you weren’t sure because his name was called up to the stage, alongside Daniel.

Leaving you with nothing but the feeling of Mark’s finger across your bare shoulders. Regardless, you stiffened, allowing him to touch you so sensually without much of a fight.

The two number 2 teammates took the stage. Both unhappy with their situation, unhappy with Christian, and most of all unhappy with you and Sebastian.

You stood there, letting your shoulders fall for a second. While Sebastian watches you from the corner of your eyes. Not because he’s worried, no. But rather in a sort of way where he’s asking you to do something about all this.

“Did Christian plan this as some kinda sick joke?” You ask, still unable to face the older man. It’s awkward, uncomfortable- yet the two of you decided against bringing it all up.

“You’ve met him.” He states, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “All four of us were in that meeting too, right?” He wasn’t wrong. Their displeased awareness stems rightfully so. But it was also out of your control, you were forced into this- right?

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. Finding the words to reply to his rhetorical statement until you hear your name over the mic in the distance. You shoot one last glance towards Sebastian's way, as if begging him to walk with you- like he wouldn't.

Maybe it was the desperation that pools within. The need to have someone by your side- even if the whole world is opposed to you.

There’s a strained smile that appears across his youthful expression. One that gives you some kind of confidence to keep the pep in your step. With Sebastian behind you, you take your spot on the levelled ground. Placing you above all the individuals here just for you this evening.

And with the duty of publicity comes the feeling of bright lights shining onto you, you felt exposed, naked, vulnerable. It was like you almost didn’t belong there. Was any one even staring at you? Other than your own brother?

You purse your lips, planting a smile in rhythm with the other men next to you. Not too toothy, enthusiastic, just precisely professional enough. Some wandering eyes seem unimpressed with your place on the team, while others seem just as proud and welcoming.

But hey, you are never liked by everyone- are you.

Stuck standing in between Sebastian and Mark, all four of you stand an awkward distance apart. Or well, to you it seemed that way. You aren’t all that sure what the crowd could deduce simply from body language alone.

“We all stand here today, appreciating our drivers for getting this far- it wasn’t easy- huh?” He turns to the four of you as if there was an appropriate answer for you all. But all that spews is small hums and nods from your coworkers. This was all purposeful, to stand before everyone who just seems totally lost in the thick air filling the venue.

Mark lifts his own mic to his lips, staring at everyone so calculatively in the crowd. “We all got here equally- right?” He offers a thought. “Sometimes I find it difficult to believe it, it's not a lie where my presence sits in this…” He chuckles, making it seem like he was setting up a harmless joke towards everyone. “Whole team, you know since I am the Number 2 Driver and all.” He points a jab at Horner, reminding him of such cruel words being said 4 years prior. “You gotta give the youth a chance to prove themselves- right?” Applause overwhelms your ears in horror. Mark wasn't even trying to hide his knowledge, not to you, Sebastian, not even Christian.

“Well, we can't be here forever.” Daniel nudges Mark,as their eyes immediately snap to yours. You try to maintain your composure- breathing terribly steadily. The two of them practically teaming up, embarrassing your entire driving talent. They were just jealous.

Mark nods, glancing at you and Sebastian. It was obvious who was more favoured when it came to the races as of late, and it didn't take much time to prove your out performance of both the car and Daniel.

Sebastian, lifts the mic to his smirked lips. “I’m not saying you will be, but maybe just drive some more- right?” The Germans accent battled the opposite Australian ones. You stood there, like a deer in headlights, what were you supposed to do?

Jenson still seated, smiling politely as he felt like he was dying watching his little sister be beaten to the pulp up there by the two aussies. He wanted to scream something to help you, to get you to say anything, but all he could do was furrow his brows, stay seated and feel absolute agony.

“I got here somehow right? Let’s just hope your dreams won’t be whisked away by a girl.” You winked, obviously this also joined the train of backhanded phrases that were supposed to come off as light hearted jokes rather than brutal rivalry.

The party of people laugh in response, including Sebastian next to you. “Oh you gotta watch out,” Daniel bickers back, a teasing smile playing on his features. He points to you, his curls jumping around alongside his gestures.

“Hey, who said I wasn’t talking to you, too?” You wink, the rupture of laughs increasing. And your confidence oozes.

The topic of the stage had returned to its original conversation soon enough. The four of you discussing what you hope to see in yourselves by the time the season wraps up in many, many months from now.

“I really look forward for what the future holds,” You begin, nodding thoughtfully, “it’s never been easy- things still aren't easy for me, but I hope the longer I’m in this role, for all the girls out there, it can become easier, and that excitement remains with me for decades to come.” Your mini speech was the last to present itself. You smiled thoughtfully to all the women you could spot. Whether they were mechanics, managers, aspiring drivers. You wanted to stand there knowing that you did something for other young women in the industry.

Planting yourself back in your seat with a loud huff, Jenson across from you is smiling playfully, while slowly clapping his hands together. “You guys sure were going at it up there.” He comments, clearly clueless.

Daniel sits next to your brother, with an exasperated sigh of his own. “Yeah, would you believe it was real?” His question is serious, as if trying to see if you all had made a complete pr mess of yourselves.

Mark throws Daniel a knowing look that shuts him up though. Giving Jenson no time to reply. “It is all just for fun, some competitive banter gets the journalists buzzin’.”

You on the other hand sit silently on the opposite side of your brother. Finding the courage to eat your food. The most difficult part of the night had finished, there was no need to continue being so stiff and unpolished.

Mark sat down, unbuttoning his tux in the meantime. It’s a smooth- almost unnoticeable action but it's there and it drips with charm as he shoots you a flashing smirk. He was near Jenson in age, so naturally they got on wonderfully as they chatted through dinner. Their conversations switch- sharing their current lives affairs. At Least some people could manage a regular life outside of racing. This was the first time you could even remember being with everyone since that fateful meeting right after australia. And it was safe to say that you hated it. Hated it so badly that you were really thinking of quitting your career for a good five seconds as the sounds of cutlery and the clinking of glasses filled echoed in the silence of the gala.

Sebastian laughs in response to something Jenson says, and that is exactly what gets you to come down from your rather intrusive-full thoughts. He is on the other side of you, your knees brushing against each other when he moves them too wide into your bubble, and his elbow bumping into you whenever he reaches just past you to grab salt. But he is deliberate, ensuring it never lasts too long. Maybe it was his way of getting a reaction out of you- or a mere thoughtless action- nevertheless it sinks into you. A sensation that you are sure you can never explain outloud. He’s clearly aware of your proximity, something he surely keeps in mind.

“Do you feel better,” Sebastian asks, his head dipping down to your eyes that are glued to your food. How gluttonous.

You're there, just not including yourself in the greater conversation, finding no need to. “I’m fine are you?” You whisper, certainly not fine. Mark had spooked you, and Sebastian used you as some sort of bait. And you aren’t sure you appreciate that all too much.

Was it your age, or the fact that you were a girl? Is that what made you easily convinced of all this?

Sebastian sighs, one a bit frustrated with the way you were acting.

Jenson is watching you, too. If the blond is worried about your mentality then perhaps he could ask him? The two of you had grown a kindling friendship- he wasn’t sure how or what caused it, but it certainly was no secret. Your brother finishes the last of his beverage digging back into the organized plate of greens, chicken, rice. He'd never admit it but this was far better than what his girlfriend could cook.

Soon enough all the attention at the table is pulled onto yourself, their eyes churning into curiosity- taking your silence for unpleasantry. In response, you shoot everyone a dark glare, you were sick of it. Everyone was fake, pretending to be someone they weren’t. All of them staring at you as if you were the culprit of the mess. At least you tried to remain true to yourself.

You go to move, to leave, to hide once again. You were finding this dinner more than irritating, and you were sure the longer you stayed the worse it would get.

Sebastian, hesitantly grabs onto your thigh- as if reading into your mind, and catching the slightest glimpse into your head. His larger hand grips you softly, but enough to keep you in place.

You could feel a pool of rosiness flush your cheeks, and you had just gotten over what happened a few weeks ago, now here you were, sitting there with his hand dangerously high against you. You remained still, as his gesture had suggested, but his focus remained elsewhere. Listening to Mark say a snotty joke towards him.

Sebastian, eventually, drags his hand slowly away, and you swore you could still feel the patterns of his palms pressed up against you, and it took all of your ability not to choke on the bite of chicken.

You could see a flash of his pearly white teeth smirk, whatever he had done worked to get you to stay there. What a foolish, meek response. Obviously he was tired of you running away, but you could argue he was the CEO when it came to miscommunication. He’d rather call you and end the phone before even finishing his own thoughts.

You felt like you’d die. You already threw up once, you don’t think you could handle another million times. Once his warmth had parted ways with you, you find the courage to glance all around the table, as though they’d taken notice of the hushed action. If they noticed the way you flared red, embarrassingly. And just like that, the overwhelming anger had dissipated faster than your pent up frustration.

Jenson suddenly pinches you, causing you to yelp, pulling yourself away from him, your body clashing with Sebastian's, catching you from falling. His touch is gentle, swift in a way.

The men surrounding you collectively snicker at your reaction. “I was asking you a question.” Jenson clarifies, before you could question his actions.

“Oh, was it-, can you hit me?”

“No, but it can be?” He offers kindly, batting his long lashes toward you innocently. He’s not lying, he would really do it again, you've been there. And it’ll hurt worse. “I was asking where you’re staying tonight, I’m not looking for a hotel for you.” He states, wanting alone time with his girlfriend in the secluded country of Monaco.

You freeze, not exactly realizing what he meant. “What?” You say, your face becoming one of outright bewilderment. “What do you mean? There’s no way I’m finding a place this soon! Unless I stay in some city outside!” You were honestly disappointed in your brother, how could he do this to you, he was awful- nasty and-

“I have some space.” Sebastian chirps in, but to you it looked like he only said it on a whim, not actually thinking of his words properly. Because the look of his own surprise in response to his own words were more than telling.

Mark, who also had his mouth open, about to interject, was shut down as quickly as he thought of inserting himself in on the conversation, but then he decided against it anyway.

“So do I.” He smoothly adds, lifting his eyebrows in a way to allow Sebastian to one up him.

“I think I’m good,” you sheepishly add, not really wanting to be in the middle of some offer war between the two red bull teammates. You rubbed the back of your neck roughly, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

It wasn't just uncomfortable for you though, everytime Jenson hollered a slurred joke the rest of you inspected each other, as if trying to get into the other's mind. What did you know that someone else may not have?

But after Monaco, you’d surely learn your lesson on maintaining your ignorance.

—

Jenson leans onto a Lotus, a disgustingly expensive silver vehicle that you assumed he had rented for the short visit to Monaco. The black leather interior caught your eye, the hint of red rimming, and black metallic accents. Sure you were making a well enough amount of money to live lavishly, but not this lavish.

Nearly hitting your head, startled by the accented voice of someone stops the two of you catching your attention. “Were you serious?” a voice calls from behind, jogging over.

The slightest breeze that was surrounding the city late at night, bit at your cheeks. You were hugging yourself, just waiting to get into some sort of warmth again.

“Me?” You question for clarification, tipping your head to the side.

“Yeah she is, were you?” Jenson butts in, while mindlessly scrolling through his phone, tapping away at a text.

“Jenson,” you whined, not exactly wanting to be stranded, he was just trying to get rid of you at this point. Throwing you to the dogs. Totally cramping your style.

Sebastian covers his mouth, pretending to itch his beard in the process, a smooth work of his expressions. “I mean I can, yeah.” The German offers, once again. The wind blows through his naturally bleached locks.

Turning on your toes you stare at him, seeing what he meant, if he really meant it. A part of you wanted him too, but another part of you didn’t appreciate it, a bit sick of this treatment. There was something awfully un-authentic about the way he carried himself. As if it was a fragment of who he was.

“I’m sure you can join him in Barcelona too.” Jenson throws out there, still not wanting you to go home with him.

You gaped dumbfoundedly.

You really had no choice but to spend the last few days of the break with Sebastian.

—

And that you did.

Jenson dropped you off like a mom at a sleepover, him and his girlfriend blatantly laughing at the sight, like you were a child. They probably just wanted to- nevermind T.M.I… Walking up the steps of the hotel you could still hear their outburst of hilarity. You could hear it even from afar.

Finding your way through the elegant hotel- or was it an apartment? You weren’t sure, you couldn’t tell but regardless, you probably already walked past too many signs your nerves just blinded you for the sake of it.

You couldn’t handle this, it was too overwhelming- and sure you’ve said this a million-trillion times before, though, no amount of times could you repeat this to possibly make the situation suddenly blow over.

You didn’t know what you’d do when you got there, because what if he also kicked you out? Well at that point you’d just fly home, voiding your other ticket.

Your cheeks were basically naturally pink now. You and Sebastian fought earlier, even though it was glossed over, doesn’t mean it'll always be, there may be tension when you get him alone again. Especially in such a secluded scene. In his own room.

You knocked once, and going for a second- you were not even giving a chance, when the door flew wide open, the now not so put together male in front of you. His grown in thick blond hair wasn't so slicked and styled as it was before, it was clearly meddled with, his hand perched, tangled between the knots as he stared down at you.

Sebastian stood over you, grinning. You couldn't explain it, you weren't sure how you could explain the way he made you so…vulnerable. Despite his carelessly, selfish demeanour to you it seemed…almost natural. It wasn't exactly there at times and you could see the body of someone regular. Someone who you could genuinely create a bond with. That was until you realized just who you were talking to.

The original version of you.

You took a steady step back. “I’m not coming in until you tell me why you offered.” You said the words you rehearsed so many times while changing into more comfortable clothes, repacking your things and on the drive and elevator up here. It took a lot out of you to find that girl in you that knew how to talk to Sebastian. You were a woman with a future, a legacy, a gift. And there you were just shy two months ago, unable to speak in coherent words to the golden boy of F1.

Sebastian physically deflates before turning around and walking away, leaving the door, allowing you to choose whether you wanted to enter or leave to fend for yourself on the dark streets of Monaco.

That’s what confused you, Sebastian never gave a choice to anyone, let alone you on the track. Mark could dream of the glorious sense of choice. But no one did, it was Vettel’s world, his strings, his puppets.

No one could have what he did without the ingredients.

“Because there’s no way you’re gonna let Mark change Christian’s mind.” Sebastian answered, it was short, almost a missable sentence so deep in your mind full of thoughts and quips.

You gasped and stepped inside without another word. “Christian? What? You think he’s really going to-“

“Probably not, but that old guy thinks he can talk his way out of problems.” He grimaces at the lingering thought of his teammate. “He doesn’t even wanna bother being here anymore because of this, I don’t see why it matters.”

You watch his body, the way his finger tips twitched out of annoyance, or his lips that seemed to dry up too rapidly right after licking them. Perhaps his body's response to his inner turmoil. The blond wasn’t someone to invite others into his bubble, as you called it. But to you, you swore the moment he invited you in was him expressing that extension. Someone worthy to peer inside, even just for a few small moments.

You wanted to see what he saw. You wanted to know what he thought about you, about stupid things like what temperature he enjoys his showers, or his favourite breakfast.

It was that night you decided things were different, not for him, but entirely for you.

“So what, is this just a big plan to sit in Monaco for days trying to figure out how to fuck Mark in the ass now?” You question expectantly. The only reason the words could get out of your mouth was because there was no eye contact, no touching, and especially no tension. The tenacity of your thoughts sat right there, in front of him. You could no longer see what the rest of the world saw. You saw someone who thought like you- or rather, a pair who thought just alike.

“What if we made him crash?!” He said, turning around, a huge, devilish smile appeared. You hadn’t seen him so openly speak of this subject in more than just a few words over the phone, or in a way where he could press a button at his control, no this was different.

Sebastian wasn’t easily swayed, nor was he easily manipulated.

You purse your lips, not even bothering to reply to his words.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The sentence comes out, for what felt like the millionth time that night. You had imagined it so much that the conversation had already blown over countless times that in reality it hadn’t even begun. You were convinced it would never come to an end though.

Sebastian fixates his attention onto you, still in his suit and tie. Pulling the collar loose he licks his lips, pondering his next move. As he usually did when around you. A second nature. A careful act of his persona that you never really did get. But did you really understand anything about him?

His smile fades, nodding thoughtfully, “If I did- or didn’t- so what?” He says, finding it boring you just kept asking the same question. Stripping himself of his jacket, throwing it somewhere off to the side. “Fight me all you want, but Mark-“ he groans to himself at the mere thought. “Mark just complains about me, and you’re next on his list.” He states it all out bluntly. You raise your eyebrows in interest though, you caught his words. It wasn’t just him he was referring to. He’d mentioned you before, more than once, twice, thrice, having your back for his sake. But this situation didn’t matter to him.

Now all the lights were on you.

Now the issue lay over your own shoulders. Yet Sebastian treated it as his own responsibility.

Sebastian tends to do certain gestures where you can tell he truly doesn’t care about his actions or what he should or should not do, because no matter what, he’ll do whatever he wants to. His huge smile for the camera alongside his haste of seriousness made you stiffen. He’s the perfect version of what you wish to be. Of what you could be.

Everyone says one thing, comments on the similarities, but all you ever wanted was to see the world from his perspective. You were sick of living a life where it was unfair play. You wanted to win, you wanted something more. And recently that narcissistic aspect came out of you more and more.

You stay standing there, waiting for some kind of direction for you to follow. This really was a scene, one so unexpected you couldn’t have imagined this in a million years. Your old self may have been screeching, ushering and pushing you out of the room before you can even find a piece of your mind scattered beneath your feet.

The room was very Sebastian-esque. A more classy look than what you usually went for. Perhaps it was because he was a bit older than you, but you didn’t mind it- it wasn’t all too bad, nor was it the biggest hotel room but it was still very spacious and generous with the size.

You took a few steps further, the entire space being fully in view now. You took it all in, arching your neck from one end to the other.

Sebastian watches you observe his room, his piece of reality. He’s been in yours, many times now, but he never could get through the truth behind your beliefs, your manners. Did Jenson and you live different lives? What caused you to change so visibly in such a short time? He could testify that he felt like he'd been following behind you at points where he was lagging so far behind, he was a bit terrified of what you'd do next.

Turning your body towards the king sized bed, the headboard a gorgeous deep burgundy colour, with a pattern you can only describe as royal, the swirls and bends, corners all resembling ones you imagine when reading your period novels. The comforters that sprawled across were the whitest of white and thicker than any jacket you’ve ever worn while back home. The pillows were so grand that you could feel your brain becoming tired the more you imagined yourself against them.

You glanced at Sebastian, who silently urged you to continue your observation of the room. Not minding your nosy-nature too much, instead being nosy himself, wondering how to come about with words so as to not be too pushy and out of character himself.

You strained your neck to the ceiling, a piece of renaissance era art stained above. It told a story through each brush and stroke you observed, The colours were not too exuberating- no, rather muted. An evening sky that transitions into night on the opposite end, stars glistening within the work. And lastly there were clouds, one on either side.

A woman perched upon the dark night sky, a clear drop rushing down her cheeks. She’s on her knees, the dim fluff supposedly taking her away from her lover.

The man is not staring, not paying attention, his body language can only be explained as rigid. His feet as he stands are pointing towards her, yet his body is twisted away- refusing to look at the suffering girl.

You could only see the left side of his cheeks, the sun that isn't in the frame of the ceiling is shining onto his features, the tear glowing, it's more prominent than her own.

A puff leaves your mouth as you find yourself too caught up with the story of a simple wallpaper. The cabinets and closet share the same design as the headboard, though with their own unique swirls and smooth, round edges to them. The hardwood floor beneath you is a more dark honey colour, one so reflective you could see yourself in each log.

You followed where the bed faced to see the biggest veranda in the whole country. Vines of overgrown greenery wrap itself around the railing and poles holding the infrastructure together. A few flowers which were slowly blooming still with every coming month held different unique colours. Some red, pink, yellow peaking through the opening.

A breeze you hadn't realized had been hitting you harshly now, but instead of going to close it- you walked straight through it. Your hair being blown against your cheeks. You kind of battle with your hair to get it out of the way.

Sebastian sits at the edge of the bed, he never wavers his gaze from you, even when your back is against him, even when you hate his guts and want to never see him again. He wants to see you succeed. He wants to help you achieve your dreams.

He wonders what they are? Are they similar to his own? Getting as many world championships as he could like a rabid animal. Or maybe it was to settle down one day?

“It’s pretty cool?” He questions, a way to deliberately climb his way out of his jumbled mind. desperately needing to remove himself from the strange narrative playing.

You dont reply, you can’t find a reason to answer. For the second time that night your head up turns to the sky. And as much as you wondered what would happen if you cried right there, you couldn’t find it inside you. Those million pounds of hopelessness you’d been carrying weighs so much, you find no extra strength to tear up.

You wanted to know what it felt like to go to sleep at night without worrying about the next day's politics.

“If you really dont wanna stay,” Sebastian suddenly appears next to you, his hair had now grown in since his haircut, you noticed this time, seeing the slight side of his fade returning. And even some summer curls showing through thanks to the hot destination. “You don’t have to,” He speaks your name carefully, as if not wanting to disturb your moment.

It takes a lot out of you to feel like this, especially in the presence of another but you do, and you hate it. “I think I’ll stay.” You confirm, finally and quietly, that same blush taking away the natural tint of your cheeks.

Sebastian, nods, as if knowing exactly what you mean as you stare at the stars.

“Would I replace Mark?” You uncertainly look up at the older man, wiping your nose from the snot beginning to form from the cold air. “Or would I become Mark?” You continue with your curiosity. Perhaps your thoughts had drugged you. Maybe it was the awkwardness of the conditions you were in that favoured your stranger thoughts over the ones that should really matter.

Sebastian finds himself fighting the eternal affairs- arguments, his own uncertainty tackling his ability to function. He can’t do it, he won't do it. But he knows the different Sebastian that lays there, that child that once allowed those kids to hurt his pride. Lose a bit of his love for the sport, shatter his trophy. He didn’t want you to do the same.

“It’s like facing yourself, wondering what you’ll be next.” He grips the railing, pulling his body back, leaning backwards.

That shamefully guilty feeling rests oh so comfortably in your head now… Reading off every word that may even slightly explain how you felt.

“If I said neither-” You lift your hands, to meddle with the necklace still wrapped around your neck. “Would that be wrong?” You rub your fingers against the edges, both round, sharp, inbetween. That was the right answer, even if it's your own question.

Sebastian gave you a choice, gave you a voice, one where the world couldn't even speak, he let you find the conclusion.

Sebastian solidifies his stance, surprised, returns the stare with a low chuckle leaving his lips. “I think not.” The German agrees, lifting his index finger to tap on the smooth marble surface. He hadn’t expected you to suddenly create a question so similar to his own. As if being asked this question once before- million times over. Rehearsing his phrase like a lullaby, to him there was always an answer he could write in, never just a right or wrong possibility.

From up there you could spot the few people still out so late at night. The reflection of lights illuminating on their faces, huge grins plastered, to them it was too early to end their fun, perhaps afraid of never experiencing a night like this again. Clinging to the moment, refusing to leave it alone.

With all the thinking you found yourself yawning, and this snaps the both of you out of your trance.

With a bit of momentum he pushes himself off the railing and ventures back into the room. You watch him, as he approaches a closet grabbing another thick comforter and placing it onto the floor, he points with his thumb to the bed, his eyes locking onto yours not saying much else.

You glanced around the room one more time, perhaps those people down below inspired you to cling on just a little to the present.

Maybe your day was awful, maybe there were bigger worries in the world, but sometimes you were sure you wouldn’t trade this for another life.

You didn’t argue whether you should take the bed or floor, you definitely deserved the bed.

He moves, you can hear him tussling in the makeshift bed below.

“Are we like best friends now?” You ask, your body getting comfy under plentiful piles of blankets. Pulling the covers over your chest, only your face being spared of the suffocation of glory.

“Whatever helps you sleep faster.” His arm hovers over his head, coming into your view as it swats the air in order to get his message across. Your words stick with him though. He thinks about what it means to have a best friend. Well- that was a dumb comment because of course he has bestfriends- he's a popular bloke, on and off track, but that doesn't mean your sentence did not resonate with him longer than he liked.

You grumble jokingly before turning your back the opposite of where he lay on the hard floor.

The two of you go silent, your eyes squeezed shut, ignoring the way your stomach fluttered knowing just where you were, in positions you’d never imagine. And right before you drifted off you heard him tell you something, like curiosity had been eating at him for the entirety of the silence overbearing you.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” His muffled voice fills your sleepy conscience, you didn’t know if it was the truth or your dreams, you couldn't tell the difference, you weren't sure if you wanted to. It could’ve been your mind taking over, wanting to hear words you desperately craved.

He peaked over the bed, visibly checking if you were asleep, but he couldn't see you turned away. He observed as your chest heaved up and down in a soft pattern caused him to be sure. Flopping back down, staring at the ceiling. While you were becoming more like him, he could feel himself morph into someone he wasn't.

–

A pillow is smacked in your face, hard. You wake up, a gasp as if you were being waterboarded, sitting up in the snug white blankets. Breathing heavily you glance around, alarmed, and at the end of the bed was a dressed and ready Sebastian, his hands on his hips and those white-rimmed retro sunglasses perched on his head. A pair of athletic shorts with the tiny lululemon logo you can spot from miles away, and a long sleeved black compression shirt topped off with that iconic Red Bull sweater.

“You gonna laze around all day?” He tips his head to the side, taking in the way you looked in the morning.

Like a mess. Duh.

You pull the sheets over your head and sit there. “I’m on vacation, I think I’ll sleep.” You grumble in response clearly not enjoying this disturbance of sleep. Couldn't people wake others up in respective manners anymore?

“Our job is to literally be on vacation, now get up!” He says, grabbing the million pounds of blanket and snatching it away from your body. Now you were cold and cranky.

You let out a whine, flopping onto your back. “What do you want?” Sebastian wasn’t the type to bother you without something going his way.

“I want to make a plan.”

You quirked a brow but didn’t dare move a muscle. “You and your plans-“

“Me and my plans? All you do is wait for me to come up with something, don’t you want to win?” He butts in, almost confused at your statement, not understanding your attitude.

You rolled off the bed, catching yourself, standing and strutting over to the bags you left off to the side the night before.

Unzipping it and rummaging through the clothes you just kept listening to him.

“I need a teammate worthy of me.” His next words set you off, you don’t know why, you should’ve taken it as a compliment, something to make you flattered, or the blush you always wore around him to maximize- instead you just glared up at him.

Sebastian thought that was a compliment too, a way to express his thankfulness when he wasn’t exactly the best with this sort of thing, especially when it came to you.

“Worthy of you? What are you, God?” You just woke up against your will and went straight to doing favours. You knew you shouldn't have taken his offer. Perhaps a part of you thought this would be different. That the two of you would be friendly about it all. But instead it was the opposite, you and Sebastian were similar, not afraid to make the worst of another’s day even so early in the morning.

“I do think of myself that way sometimes, yeah.” He confirms, a small side smile appearing behind his grown in facial hair, it was still clear though, he was confused about your mood switch.

“Well you’re not.” You spit, snatching your clothes up, standing, you stomp over to the male, so close both of your bubbles would pop sooner or later. “You wanna know what else, I’m not you, and I’m not selfish either-“

Sebastian visually widened his eyes, he went to take a step backwards but nothing allowed him too. Or rather he refused to.

You felt like you were running out of breath faster than you were speaking, you could feel the strain in your chest, the need to say more but you just shoved yourself past him. Slamming the bathroom door behind you, you felt an uncontrollable sensation of anger fuel your veins.

You leant on the counter, running a hand through your hair. It wasn’t as long, thick and healthy as it once was as a young girl, probably getting worse each day thanks to the extensive regime to keep up.

A pair of black shorts, you shoved your head through the extra tight compression long sleeve. It hugs your neck perfectly, showing off your muscles, you smiled tiredly observing your build.

At least sometimes it was worth it.

Stepping from the bathroom fixing your socks you hopped a few inches as you came back to the real world, you couldn’t hide forever, not from Sebastian- as much as you wanted too.

He’s still there, but this time he’s seated on the bed, scrolling on an iPad, everything in the room seems to be in order again, all tidied up, and he also is ignoring you- at least you think so. But it’s not like you didn’t deserve it- or you were just getting too ahead of yourself because Sebastian noticed your presence hovering over him.

“Are you done whining? Or are you going to help me?” His eyebrow twitched, and you weren’t sure if it was from you or whatever he was reading over but you tried to be calm, for now you suppose.

You purse your lips, not wanting to say more, because you really were acting like a bitch, letting out your anger at Sebastian when he was truly just trying to help you out with everything.

“Okay, fine.” You breathe out, grabbing a pair of sunglasses, using them to push back your hair from your face.

Sebastian watches you, his eyes glued to every gesture, movement, expression you make. He didn't get why you blew up on him, but here you were normal again. There’s a little bull on his shoulder telling him to continue the fight, but he’s just defeated, he’s more angry at Mark over what he did than anything.

You itch the scar concealed by the fabric, a habit you weirdly developed whenever you were nervous these days- especially when it came to Sebastian and his schemes.

He brings up some data from the races so far this season, showing the consistency of the sibling redbull teams. You weren’t sure if this was necessarily allowed, but it wasn’t like it was bad.

“New target,” Sebastian says, a smile so wide his teeth are showing, so he was just sick of Mark. “Jenson isn’t performing as we thought, not surprised though, but Mark is next, maybe Alonso too, we’ll see.” He does his usual shrug, as he flicks through the information he had garnered.

—

It takes a while, it takes so long that the sun outside had been gone, and you were sitting there, on the floor, papers somehow suddenly scattered around you, printed pieces of scattered data. Making plans, theory after theory.

“What if we really just killed Mark?” You quip, rubbing your eyes out of frustration.

“You said that wasn’t good,” Sebastian reminds you, wagging a finger in the air. “We gotta find out something, there’s always something you can do- right?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, the anger coming back, was he expecting you to come up with something? Well in that case, Mark wouldn’t be the only one dead if it were up to you.

“What I can do is push the car past its limits, at some point it’s gonna cost me.” You twirl your hair between your fingers, finding that more fascinating than Vettel's burning observance.

You were used to his presence now, it didn’t bother you- not becoming as frozen anymore well, maybe it should, maybe it was the heat generated by your hard work.

“We can lock them both behind me,” you say, snapping your head up so fast you swore you gave yourself some sort of degree of whiplash, you ignored it though.

“How?”

“I fuck up my own race.”

Sebastian eyes you. You’ve been selfish all this time. So selfish that he thought you were joking, causing him to let out a huge laugh, throwing his head back. “Yeah right,”

You frown, confused what he could possibly think was so hilarious, especially when he asked you to come up with something.

Realizing you weren’t laughing along, he slowly fades out of it, a serious look crosses his features. “You’re not serious.”

“Fuck up Quali, lock them behind me, that’ll keep them behind right?” That was true, Alonso had already won a few races, if he continues this act then…what does anyone gain?

You both stare, seated opposite of eachother a decision was made in the air, a choice that Sebastian left up to you. He wouldn’t complain- it was for his sake afterall.

But it was obvious it wouldn’t last.

Not after what he said when Barcelona had actually come around.

Chapter Text

May 11th - May 12th 2013

Your physio, a woman you’ve worked with so far in your career, was slowly moving your neck around, guiding you out of your stiffness and any last minute discomforts. You had to leave Monaco that night after planning everything, another sleepless evening figuring out things on your own. He didn’t seem to ask more, as you two had to part ways to your own respective countries to pack up.

And here you were, so nervous you'd mess things up that you were locking all your muscles up. It didn’t take long for your physio, Quinn, to notice the older woman taking a hold of you and doing her handy work.

Jenson struts over, helmet in hand, his face scrunched up in curiosity. “You’re that nervous?”
He gestures to you, saying more, but you just roll your eyes, having your mind too focused on everything ahead of you.

On one hand you were relieved that when you landed the other day, finally- no one had called you, for once. On the other hand, it was like an unbalance of your weekly routine. Fear something had happened without your knowledge. What if you were in trouble!?

“I could throw up on you too?” You offered not even bothering to look his way. Jenson knew you, he knew you better than anyone, well not entirely- since he didn't know of the entire series of events- but that's not the point. The point was Jenson could see right through you, he knew what ticked you off, and he knew what melted your heart, and most of all, he knew what could make you anxious- like now.

You thought so anyway.

He slaps you on your forearm once, Quinn- without your notice had halted her work. Deciding she had done enough for now.

You stare at Jenson, mindlessly shoving your arms into the deep blue and gold suit that was previously around your waist. Lingering thoughts bubbled up, as you conspired reasons as to why he would be approaching you- then again, Jenson was your brother so that wasn’t fair to him. Thinking he was coming to request a favour, similar to others on the grid.

The words that would soon leave his lips would literally make you stiffen up all over again, with no physio in sight to help you untighten the uncomfortable feeling beginning to swell in your chest, you were back where you started. Could she even resolve that? A girl can only hope.

“So, I was going to ask- how did, uh…” Jenson gestures with hand, assuming you knew what he was talking about- The little time you had with Sebastian a few days ago.

Your eyes widened for a moment, needing to collect yourself, you weren't sure what to say, nothing significant occurred- not to you at least. The two of you spent the entire time planning, discussing, and fighting too. If anything you were being a dick to him for every second. Not to say he didn’t deserve it.

“I went home the next night, plus, it isn't your business, I’m not asking you what you did with your girlfriend.” You quip back a tad more defensively than you should have; however with everything that happened the last few days- you thought you needed to have some sort of walls at the base of your emotions.

A smirk plays on your cheeks, causing Jenson to scoff, you clearly got him there, surprisingly fast.

He rubs his hands together, not pushing it much further, not particularly wanting to hurt his own feelings for now. “Well I just thought, maybe I’m crazy,”

You stood, shaking your head, not even wanting him to finish his sentence, his mind was too boyish for you to handle- no you didn't want to handle it. Not now anyway, Sebastians was enough for you to wrap your head around, barely.

You turn your back and head deep into your garage again, the bustling of mechanics going over last minute discussions. , indiciating to your older brother that the conversation was over, pretending he was no longer there. Out of sight, out of mind.

And it worked!

Turning around, you held the wire of your earbuds in hand, your ipod in the other. Only to see someone had seemingly replaced your brother.

Sebastian. Obviously.

His lips were sat in a straight line, looking down at you, and for an unrealized second you could feel the limits of your bubble begging to tear, so you quickly stepped back before he could say anything.

“You don’t have to,” He abruptly bursts out, his face nothing but serious and sincere with his statement. You were aware he wasn't exactly loving your idea, but it was all you two had come up with, plus it would be fun to piss Mark off after what he did to you last week.

“I can- Sebastian, we already talked about this.” You reassure, nodding to him, and for what felt like the first time you caught his drifting gaze and locked them with yours. You weren't sure why or even how, but you did- you wanted him to believe in you. And you thought he did, but his mood was…slightly off, you couldn't say why, or how you knew but you knew.

His blue eyes weren't as bright and lively as they usually were. “I know you won’t” He pushes, you can see his fists by his sides, bawled up, his veins popping out.

Like a clock ticking slowly to the next hour, your face clicks into an appropriate expression for his words, muddled. “No, I don't know what’s gotten into you but it's fine, I suppose.” You shrug, going to walk around him, only for Sebastian to lift a hand before you, hovering over your chest.

The inner-turmoil occurring within his mind just didn’t make sense, he knew who you were. He could trust you, he did trust you. But at the same time you were unpredictable, you were someone who acted on their emotions, you let them string you along just as he did you.

“I don’t think you’re understanding me.” He continues in a lower voice, “I know you won’t,” They say communication is key, right? “So you aren’t going to do your little plan, because you're just so absorbed in yourself!” Sebastian’s words come a little too loudly, and a little too harsh.

You guys just spent nights in Monaco together and now he was turning his back on you?

“Did you even understand me?” You retorted, raising your voice alongside the blond. “I’m not fucken lying! It sounds like you’re getting cold feet!” You exaggerate, your finger flies right through the bubble, landing square on his chest. Digging into it. “I’ll help you, but if you don’t want it- just say so, don’t sit and drag me into all this just to throw it all out.” You spat going straight past him, as you always did.

You put one bud in, lifting to place the other one, though Sebastian lets out a string of words escape his mind. Both mixed with curses, along with random jumbles of words, though one particular combination stood out to you the most.

“It’s fine, whether you do it or not, I’m gonna have to do it myself anyway.”

The cameras lingering around really told you not to do it. Some of the other mechanics surrounding you told you not to react. Their eyes beedy- wide. You could see Daniel in his own garage, silently shaking his head. Everyone begged you to not react to whatever Sebastian said.

Yet you ignored them all.

You turn around, your jaw clenched so hard you swore you felt a tooth chip at your expense.

“You did not just say that,” you warned, tugging at the wires, removing them from your ears. “You’re fucking lying!” You say hysterically, “you’re lying Sebastian! You fucking did one thing- and you did it wrong!” You stepped up to the older male, shoving him in the meantime, though he only just snatched up your wrist before it could actually collide with his body for the second time.

It didn’t take much for him to assume what your statement meant, obviously alluding to China.

“Call it off,” He says curtly. “Call it off, Button.” He repeats, before basically throwing your wrist to the side. Leaving you high and dry.

And you know what? You were sick of not getting the last word in. So you followed him.

The cameras were in pursuit behind you now. This was something you were trying to avoid for weeks, be on your best behaviour. Now though, you were certainly, certain you’d just end up in driver jail, locked up in a room with Christian.

No doubt about it.

“You call it off, I’ll fuck it all up.” You warned, a finger in the air, no one knew what either of you were talking about, why would they? Mark on the other hand, who held the straw of his water bottle between his lips watching this entire altercation go down, knew what the hell you were talking about.

“This is not how it works.” You remind him, grabbing his forearm, tugging him back to face you. “I have done so much already that we are both too deep in this.” You pull him closer, down to you, and he oddly follows through with it. Your faces so close, you could smell the scent of his far too expensive cologne mixed with the sweet fragrance of his sweat. It didn't bother you, and maybe it was your thoughts that began causing your head to spin.

He was so close, too close, his eyes stuck onto yours. They were dark and deep rather than the loosely careless ones he always wore, the mischievous gaze you grew accustomed to. Instead of seeing Sebastian being that enemy to anyone else, you were the victim for the first time, like he would break you down like you were nothing. But you kept the facade.

“I think you're forgetting who I am.” He pushes you off of him, making you stumble a few feet backwards.

The slight heat of the Barcelona sun remained trained on you, and what felt like only you. You were overheating, the anger was just consuming you, you could feel your arm aching, where the previous injury lay beneath the fabric of your clothes.

Alas, Sebastian did get that last word in, leaving you alone with nothing but the suffocating feeling of dread, the need to scream at the top of your lungs. You dig your thumb through your suit, perhaps the pain would subside the imbalance of emotions rushing in your blood. Flooding you so severely you could feel your vision blur.

So extremely so, that you didn’t even know when you had gotten into your car. Focusing on nothing but yourself.

He wanted to see how selfish you were?

Fine. You wanted to see him beg you to join his cause again, you wanted him to know what it felt like to be tossed to the side and be forgotten.

—

In truth, your brother did try to talk to you after Quali, where you finished a not-so-bad fourth behind Sebastian. Jenson, attempted at burning questions into you, although you remained silent, letting him wonder whatever he wanted to.

You were still in your car seated as they pushed you back in, Jenson was hovering above you, following the team as they stayed focused on their own business.

“You have some explaining to do,” Jenson says strictly, not daring to even pay attention to anything else, not even caring about the media following. They were really eating this entire ordeal up like you were on some sort of reality show. This is racing folks, let's stick to it.

One of the camera men even went as far as shoving the lens all up in your face, and as you stood you used the expensive item as leverage, clicking your tongue in the meantime. This worked successfully as he backed away, your manager ushering them all away seeing your visible discomfort, even behind the protection of your helmet.

“Explanation for what Jenson? That I hate him?” To Jenson, you figured it only looked like the two of you had gotten into some argument after you spent the night together. So he only assumed the worst. Whatever that conclusion was to him.

“No, seriously.” He says while a gentle hand reaches your shoulder. “Tell me,” he says your name, your full name. Demanding this time, “You know, I’ve had enough of you running away, and if we have to have this conversation in the middle of the paddock- fine.”

You look up to him, your lips curved downwards. “Jenson, drop it.” You say through gritted teeth, your eyes dart around. The crowd of people surrounding you is becoming larger and larger, not just the media but other drivers mindlessly walking around the paddock.

Your brother gripped his helmet by his side tightly. He didn’t want to drop it, you were just a kid and these issues that seem to follow you around as of late were beginning to worry him. And this would not be where he lets up.

That's when things began being more overwhelming. You weren’t sure if you could handle one more second with microphones and interviewers in your face. You could see the same man and his camera crew lingering from the corner of your eye.

“Button!” Someone called out, it was so busy that you barely recognized your manager's voice. Waving their hand in the air to catch your attention- well one of your attentions.

You both turn to face the perpetrator. “No- I mean, her.” He corrects, pointing to you, “Horner wants to talk!” The man yells over the rest of the horde, waving his trusty ipad over his head.

Jenson eyes you, why would Christian want you? Well he could just assume after the entire ordeal of fighting Sebastian, but he couldn’t help that there was something else behind the door of your recent reserved nature. “What does he want?” Jenson questions anyways, grabbing you by your wrist firmly, he wasn’t letting you go until you said something,

“Because,” You spat, glaring lasers into the older male. “I told off his baby.” And so you snatched your arm away from Jenson, that would suffice his curiosity, right?

You stomped, roughly removing the helmet from your head, the balaclava too, unbuckling, and unzipping your suit, letting it hang by your waist, the suffocation of the scenery was getting to you. You could feel the sweat sticking to your hair, the way it was so damp. You ruffled with it roughly.

“What were you guys talking about?” A woman reporter approaches you, a red and blue microphone in hand. You though? you had other plans, a weak smile appearing as you reached for the camera, forcing it away from your direction.

Luckily your two trusty managers were shaking their heads at any incoming traffic.

They hadn’t expected you to so abruptly decline the question, but it did get her to leave you alone.

Here you were, back to square one with the media and fans.

Entering Red Bull's hospitality, you easily found yourself entering the same conference looking room from Australia. This time it was under different circumstances. There was no feeling of achievement, confidence, nothing but dread.

A part of you had already accepted it, he was going to bitch you out, saying things like how you didn't deserve it. Was he in control of firing you on the spot? Because, probably that too.

When you opened the door though, it wasn’t just you who got called in. Duh.

The loathed Vettel sat there, across from Christian. The brunette and blond shared some sort of weirdly intimate moment, staring into eachothers eyes like they were urging the other to say the first word. Well that was until you snapped them out of it, clearing your throat and folding your arms. You leant on the door frame, watching them expectantly.

He gestures to the empty spot next to the German. You scoff, showing your distaste to the choice of seating before going ahead and joining them at the table.You ruffle your hair again, imagining how sweaty and disgusting it probably looks, but hey, maybe some of it splashed on Sebastian too? A win for you then.

“Are you two five-year olds?” There was a vein popping out of Horner’s forehead, so much so a part of you wanted to puncture it, that way he’d shut up. His hands were grasped tightly in front of him as he let his frustration be expressed freely. “What happened to Bahrain?!” He reminds you of the flawless show that was put on for the entire world to watch. “With the hugging and-” He shakes his head, clearly wanting to say more, relishing in the previous win of the season, given how the present was now. And there was much needed problem solving to be done here.

“Button, do you want Mark’s seat or not?” He rhetorically asks, because who wouldn’t want a winning car seat?! “And Seb,” He refers to your supposed teammate. “What was that about, you can’t just start fights with everyone, not everyone's your enemy.” Horner stresses this fact as if Sebastian hadn’t already been aware.

He was, he was so aware because all this time he had been all buddy and friendly, until you ruined it for everyone.

You were sitting on the right of the Red Bull racer, making an effort to slide your chair further away from his presence. That earns an exasperated sigh out of the team principal seeing how childish not only you but Sebastian also was being about this.

“I told him I was willing to help.” You stated the obvious, assuming the story had already been told. “And I was!” You flung your arms into the air, your face showing one of absolute animosity for both men.

“You trust her to go through with it?” Sebastian questions, in an peculiarly calmed tone in contrast to your one. “What if she does what she did to Daniel?”

You twitch your focus to the German. “That’s what you're scared of? If I pass you on the straight?!” Sebastian listens to you, refusing to answer your absurd question. Because it was deeper than that.

It was always deeper than that. The both of you had pent up…emotions, you weren't even sure how you could possibly word what you were feeling. Just because you did that to Daniel absolutely did not mean you would do it to Sebastian. No, you were sure you wouldn’t because…well…you just wouldn’t.

To Sebastian, he was shoving and swallowing his own feelings so much so that he turned it into not wanting what happened in Malaysia to happen with you. He wasn’t risking the championship with some rookie- because you have proven, you were certainly not any kind of Rookie.

You were him.

“I’m not scared of you,” He finally refutes, his eyes trained on the window outside, the distant rumble of cars and excited fans are heard, barely. “You’re just so insufferable!” The Germans accent tripled, even a few curses you weren't familiar with slipped his tongue. His eyes finally lock onto yours for the first time since you entered the room.

There's a glint of…something beneath it. His abnormally dark eyes scream a different sentence than the one you just heard. And this makes you soften your features for the slightest of moments before you find the most appropriate response.

“I thought we were teammates, you're just making more trouble for yourself!”

Horner quickly realized his mistake of actions, one he should have taken notice of a while ago now. Seeing the two of you, next to each other like this. It was like staring into different sides of the same exact coin. “I don’t care about what-ifs, I care about tomorrow, we already messed up because of that Quali today, don’t make it worse tomorrow. Or else you’ll both be out of a job.” He extends his arm, waving it between you and Sebastian. “Seb, clear it up with the media and conference tomorrow then- yeah?”

Sebastian really doesn't answer this time. He couldn’t promise anything, for the entire reason of knowing he wont do anything that is asked of him. That is how it went, only if it benefits him. And to be frank, he could care less what the media thinks of him, so he isn’t going to fix your image for you. You’ve done it once, do it again.

Left alone with your current enemy, you gathered your emotions in a metaphorical box to go. The grand meeting table filled most of the space in the room, apart from your thoughts- of course. And to you he didn’t exist, for once. You wanted to focus on your ability to prove him wrong. You wanted to show what he didn’t think you had.

To Sebastian though, you took up the entire room. The table didn't exist nor did the outside world he was blankly gazing beyond, you fueled something in him. Something so dangerous, he wasn’t sure what he’d do with it, make a bomb, to just end his suffering? He even tried to convince Christian to take the deal back. Certain he could deal with Mark for another million years than bicker with you-

Another minute in there would only lead to chaos. Or maybe one of you dead. Regardless, you were the first to stand after Christians scary cat move of leaving. Probably just wanting to separate himself from the issue at hand. Avoiding his responsibility.

That evening Jenson tried again, convincing you with food just as you did to him in China. Now though, it was different, you weren't necessarily mad at your older brother, but if he kept pushing it, you would be. Plus it's not like he has anything to do with this anymore. The entire “fuck Jensons races up” scheme was out the window due to his poor standings in the season so far. If anything Sebastian should really be scared of you. How ironic.

“Jenson, please.” You pleaded as you sat down at the restaurant. The dimmed lights overcasted the both of you, and you were glad, that way it would conceal a bit of your expressions if it slipped.

Your older brother sat there, straw in hand as he sipped away at some lemonade humming in pure delight as he repeated his question, “What was that earlier, you gonna explain or just keep being annoying?” He doesn't pay mind to you as he continues speaking while browsing the menu.

“This is between me and Sebastian, I don’t see the big deal.” It was a beautiful Japanese family-owned establishment. The deep red colour of the walls, photos of all the famous people who have visited over the years, which would- in the future include you and Jenson the moment you strided in.

This was a bit of a dressy place to be, but you didn’t care if you weren't playing the part, you played that role most of the time for the media anyways. You wanted to be a regular girl for just one second, and hanging out with Jenson always made you feel just that. He always paid and you blindly followed behind him. You enjoyed having no responsibility.

Barcelona’s evenings were a bit chilly for your liking, hence the branded- athlete only heavy blue sweater zipped upwards all the way, covering your neck from the breezy air. The Toro Rosso logo stretched across the sleeves. Perhaps more obvious than you wanted, but it was the first thing you could find with Jenson rushing you, banging on your hotel room door like the place was about to blow. You wore a pair of sweats, once again the first items you could scavenge for within your suitcase that literally contains your entire life. With converse to complete the look you didn't dwell for a single second longer, not that you had time to have second thoughts.

Jenson was in a similar get up, which you were thankful for. Two just regular people out for a regular evening.

“Are you two like,” He gestures with his head, as if you'd know right away what he was implying, his brows raising and a short grimace appeared as if it truly pained him to even think about it.

You spat out the water you were peacefully sipping prior to his question. You were flushed, embarrassed, like a fish out of water. A teenage girl where someone just found out her ‘super secret’ crush.

And just to be clear, Sebastian was definitely none of those.

You were disappointed with your brother, that he would think so lowly of you. You stared at him with such genuine surprise that it nearly convinces him, watching how a wash of relief covers his features.

“No!” You say after a small coughing fit, ensuring you were extra articulate with your pronunciation. Your own brit accent thickening entirely. You were baffled, absolutely baffled your own flesh and blood would think of you that way, you felt suddenly guilty as if his words were true, but they weren't- were they? Obviously not. Unquestionably not.

You were supposed to be a role model, you didn’t really want to mess with men- especially if they were your literal coworkers- and in this case teammates! You already earned yourself the worst rep when it came to media coverage, why worsen it by putting yourself out there.

“Personally, he’s a bit old for you, I say go for the guys your actual age.” He continues on more jokingly this time, as if just throwing random words out there now that he was sure the two of you were not…whatever he thought you were.

A smile plays over his cheeks, and you thought Jenson was one to tell you who to date, All he did was breathe in formula one and exhale girls. Well, before his girlfriend but still.

“And personally you need to mind your business.” You kick him, hard, underneath the table. You needed to calm down, maybe that was a bit too hard and too obvious. Keep your cool. Keep your cool…those words repeated and repeated as you took a deep breath in. Sebastian wouldn't get the best of your anger, especially when he wasn't even there. You could just imagine- picture the way his face would slowly churn into that stupid smile. The one where the crinkles at his eyes showed through, or the way his blue eyes visibly brightened or- not to give away your actual thoughts and get through the night like it was nothing. This was all nothing. Jenson was just getting in your head.

“Then what else could it be?” He says not even flinching from the forceful contact. Dragging a hand down his face, it landed right at his beard, “Because that’s the only possible answer I have.” He concludes with a shrug, nothing seemingly wavering his own theories.

Well of course this is the way the public sees it. You’ve been avoiding the media like the plague since China, or well you tried too, too scared to see what was conjuring up about you. Now that Jenson had said this- it only confirmed it further, you did not want to go on the internet.

If that was the only conclusion your brother could come up with, then a google search would blind you.

“He’s just jealous.” You further concluded, wiping up the mess you created over yourself and the table. Grumbling in the meantime. Your face burning at the mere thought. It was such a stupid theory that could not be true. You weren't even 20 yet. You had no business being with him. Absurd.

“Jealous of what, he’s leading, and we’re probably gonna hear that same German anthem a million times before the season even nears the end.” You rolled your eyes, it was true, but that wasn’t the end of his never ending interrogation. “What happened earlier- I just don’t get it.” He shakes his head, finally putting down the menu as if to show how hard he really was thinking about the scene he watched, perhaps Sebastian was right. You really did need to watch your mouth.

Your face molds into one of discomfort. “He talks too much, that’s all, don’t you get it, he just wants to pick on me ‘cause I’m a girl- duh.” You wave your hand in a circle in front of your nose. It wasn’t true, obviously, Sebastian wasn’t some sort of misogynist, no he was far from it because- well according to him he was trying to help you get that seat from before you requested your own demands.

Jenson makes a face, one of confusion turned irritated, “You really think so?” He picks up his phone, seemingly about to do something you won’t exactly be happy about. “Oh he better not, I’m serious, I’ll get him right out of that seat faster than he fucking got it!”

Was….Jenson…defending you? For once in your life your brother was seriously deciding now was the best time to try and be on your side? After practically making you fight the dogs to get your position?

But that wasn’t all, at the mention of the Red Bull seat you physically cringe, turning your attention elsewhere, when you snuck a glance back at him though, the phone was up to his ear. And without even thinking much about your water that you just spilled, you reached over the table, your hand flat down as you pushed yourself to Jensons side. You snatched the phone out of his grip as aggressively as you could and looked down at it.

It was blank.

He was calling no one.

You stared at his home screen blankly. He was trying to see how you’d react, because if it were true you wouldn't be so fast to stop his phone call.

Your throat tightens as your eyes slowly raise up to his again.

He wasn’t smiling, no…he wasn’t…he had a singular eyebrow lifted, a serious visage, one so serious his lips curved downwards. He was not impressed.

“What?” You ask, annoyance strings through your words as if you weren’t just caught.

“You’re lying.” Your stomach churns and you shake your head, you had been so careful around Jenson- out of fear you’d break, out of fear he’d find out by simply seeing the unsatisfied look on your face after doing horribly in a race. But no, all it took was for him to play pretend. And you fell for it.

Just like the kid you were.

As you didn’t reply to him then, he didn’t push the narrative for much longer. The rest of the dinner was not as enjoyable as you anticipated it to be.

It was only a matter of time before you could maintain your composure.

—

That next morning you woke up a bit late, groaning, banging at your door, your name being the only thing being said from the other side. You physically punch your pillow before pulling yourself up. It was race day, a lot needed to be done, yet you were enjoying some snore festivities.

You spent the previous night doing nothing but scrolling through article after article about yourself. And of course, to your dismay it was all about you and Sebastian. Not a surprise there, Some were angry fans conspiring about your relationship, while the other half were indeed cheering on for whatever delusional relationship they had created. None of it held a single thought on the topic of seats, thankfully. Your paranoia was surely catching up to you.

Especially what Jenson pulled.

He took you back to the hotel and everything on recalling the events horrified you. You could remember the way he eyed you for about a minute, wondering if it was really worth it to bring up the topic of qualifying one more time. The only words he could manage out were the opposite, “I don’t care what it is,” Your name leaves his mouth so softly, as if the previous animosity towards the entire situation had dissipated entirely, “I’m right here, we’re in this, together.” He said all that despite your lies. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, so incredibly unsettled by his oddly caring words that you went on your phone the rest of the evening to get your brother out of your head.

That stupid guilt ate at your guts so horribly.

You spotted videos of people seeing how inseparable the two of you were this past season, an unexpected friendship blooming. Or how he picked you up in Bahrain, his hands firmly placed at your waist as he provided you with a boost to his spot on the podium. You huddled yourself further under the covers, your cheeks were heated, because no matter how much you denied it, everything you two were doing really did come off the way the media made it out to be.

On the other hand there was also the negative aspect in all this. The videos of you two fighting. It was all just jumbled yelling and crowds pushing to see what was really happening. you let out a breath of relief, nothing was actually heard in earshot. You still did cringe though. Your face scrunching up, and the redness worsening, the heat burning across your entire face. You couldn’t handle the embarrassment and the delusions all at the same time.

You cringed so, so, terribly that you threw your phone somewhere on the floor- far away from your grasp forcing yourself to sleep at some point. You didn’t even know what time it had been. That was the only way you found yourself drifting to sleep. No thanks to the delusions now created in your own imagination.

You gripped the doorknob, flinging the door wide open to only see the one and only guy you didn't want to be interacting with first in the morning. Especially after what you spent your free time doing the night before.

He was leant against the door frame, a Red bull hat over his fluff ball head of hair. He, same as you, seemed to have just woken up- his eyes still hung a bit lowly, and a flickering wave of…well, nothing you could make out. But that brought your mind to wondering what he had done the night before. Maybe the same thing as you? Did he scour the internet, googling himself? Did he read the same articles you had?

Did he feel the same..feelings you had?

Those bright blue eyes- which seemed to return for a split moment only looked down to you, a snarky, stern tone leaves his mouth,“Tell your team principal to wake you up next time.” He spoke, rudely, almost sounding like you with the effort of attitude he put into that line. Sebastian definitely practiced that one in front of the mirror for 20 minutes before heading over here.

You huffed, being popped right back to reality, not even bothering to dwell on anything else for a second longer. You slammed your door in response. Before finding your now cracked-from the screen protector- phone on the floor, dialing your manager, if you couldn't bitch out Tost, you would him. Because this wasn't the first time Sebastian had shown up doing someone else dirty work, specifically something so stupid like waking you up.

“Why was Sebastian at my door?” You grumbled pacing around with no aim in sight.

“That’s Tost’s work this time, before it was Seb’s not mine!” He exerted on the other side, attempting to clear his name from your naughty list. These days everyone gets on your nerves, but he couldn't blame you too much. “He wanted you guys to smooth it over- with some breakfast, like you have time-” You cut Alain off rather rudely.

“Well tell him that’s definitely not happening,” Your eyebrow twitches behind your hair messily sitting on your head. “I’ll be downstairs in ‘30.” You say in order to end the phone as quickly as possible, the same style Sebastian would do to you, and it felt good. Powerful.

Next time just try actually doing it to Sebastian.

—

You felt a little better by the time you made it to the paddock, nearly forgetting your pass, phone- heck you nearly forgot yourself. dressed up in Toro Rosso from head to toe you decided on sunglasses and the work uniform of the Red Bull cap similar to Sebastian's sat on your head, just with the Toro Rosso flair to it, of course. Another race, another nightmare of interviews and conferences coming your way.

You wore a thin white long sleeve under your Toro polo. Wiggling your thumb through the hole of the shirt, you had been strictly making an effort to hide your scar. It wasn’t that bad, but the memories that came alongside the sight made you just convulse in a wince fit. You weren't sure why but as of recently you couldn't bare to stare at it. It just made you so uncomfortable.

But you kept it together, it was a new day, a new mature you. You’d try to be at least. No promises though.

When you finally arrived at your garage you took a steady breath, new air too. The woman and man you called your managers walk over to you. They seemed to be conversing about some sort of topic you couldn't hear, but when you came into their view they quickly shut up. Probably discussing amongst themselves, what a PR nightmare you were. Thinking of ways to get you out of the attention of cameras.

“Button!” The french man calls out to you. He’s grinning from ear to ear, pretending as if you hadn't just totally yelled at him just a few hours ago- or the fact that a horrible day prior did not exist.

You place your hands onto your waist and smile ever so slightly to the french duo. You knew you were about to get chewed out by Charlotte. “Button, seriously- we gotta mature up,” She provides you with a bit of tough love, folding her arms seriously across her chest.“You’ve been driving flawlessly but it's like since your races have been improving- your attitude just declines.” She’s honest with you, always has been- always will be. You could tell how sick she was with your antics and even though you were really trying to be a golden child, that young adult in you just jumps out front and centre. In this industry, especially as a woman, you weren’t about to let it get to you.

To you there was no such option to hide away when you could show who you were. Because, at the end of the day- you were that stepping stone for women, and as much as you appreciated your team- you also respected yourself. You didn’t want to be pushed around, so you wouldn’t. You wanted it to show that even as a woman, you could get everyone at their knees for you.

You were confident, that’s all there is to it.

Charlotte pinches the bridge of her nose, tilting her head down to the floor, hiding the disappointed expression overshadowing her ever so sharp features. Shaking her head as Alain, next to her just worryingly glances at her then you, a frown replacing his previous smile.

“You should listen to her, we want what's best for you, and what's best for you is-”

Jenson walks by, causing all three of you to shut up. A sigh escapes your lips, you can assume what the next words were going to be out of the man.

“Hey,” His hand is tangled in between his locks as he seems almost…nervous. His weight shifts from one side to the other. His head quirks to the side, signalling for the two of you to talk more privately.

You furrow your brows but nonetheless blindly follow your brother. Lifting a finger in the air, to excuse yourself from the two managers. You were a tiny bit relieved Jenson had gotten you out of that unknowingly.

He takes you to some part of the paddock, the covered barriers dividing the rest of the world and…yours. You fix your cap a bit anxiously as you try and observe his behaviour. His eyebags hung low, lower than the last time you saw him- the night before. He purses his lips, and clenches at his jaw. He takes your previous stance and places his own fists on his waist. He says your name whilst clearing his throat.

You can sense a ball of bile build up at the end of your throat. You could feel it become bigger, like a balloon, as the suspense drags on.

“I’m…I’m…” He lets out a laugh covering his face with one hand, nearly looking deranged with the way he was seriously acting.

He felt foolish, he was trying to help you, not be an annoying older brother. And while that’s true, he was one, and will always be. He didn’t like how yesterday turned out. He laid there all of last night thinking about his immature move. Your parents had beckoned him to get something out of you and he was getting nowhere. Nowhere but more worries for him to bare.

“I care about you alright?” an obvious remark…

You stare upwards at Jenson with an expecting gaze. You weren’t sure if he had come to some magical conclusion of the entire series of events occurring and quite literally pertaining to him with every coming weekend.

“Just- don’t be mad,” He begins, as if about to drop news on you, and you widened your eyes slightly, begging to know.

You pause for a beat. Two…three…

“Buttons!” A mechanic finds the two of you hidden away, causing you both to flinch at the sudden loud voice.

He seems concerned but quickly turns relieved as he finds the two of you. “Everyones on the track, we don’t got long.”

It’s a Mclaren worker, the huge earphones hung around his neck, and his polo tucked into his jeans. There's also a visible sweat bead rolling down his forehead.

You two haven’t even been gone for long.

Jenson sighs in defeat, but also relief himself. Whatever he was going to confess could wait another minute, well to him, definitely not to you. He raises a hand towards you, as he pulls you into a firm and an appreciative hug. A wordless apology from the elder Button. A blessing.

His hands reach up to your hair as he ruffles a hand through it. Purposefully messing it all up. You just frown and swat him away.

Parting ways with a small wave and your usual handshake, you frown as you watch him, his back turned to you. You observed the way his shoulders rest less-tensly, and the only conclusion you came up with was that the mechanic had saved his butt. You felt even more striking than before.

You walk with your head down, eyes to your feet and a hint of a pout. And that facial expression continues until you get into your car. The two managers decided to leave you alone for the time being. Not wanting to unintentionally spark more anger from deep within.

They pat your back, so does your engineer before he, too, heads to his own seat.

You pull the balaclava over your cheeks, helmet over your head, with one last stretch you swing your legs into the car.

“Let’s try and have a good day.” Your engineer encourages you, you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Vettel is p3, one place in front of you. You want to prove to him you got this? Don’t let him get to you.” Along with this, he was alluding to the previous plan you and Sebastian created while in Monaco. Of course your engineer knew, he was a part of the entire operation after all.

What he didn’t know was you had a plan of your own for today.

“I’ll prove I’m more than that.” You assure, flexing your fingertips ever so carefully as you readjust your grip on the wheel. A small snicker of a smile lying beneath your covered features. Sure, Jenson worried you with his entire confrontation, but you had convinced yourself of the simple saying you've been mumbling in your mind since you were a child: Out of sight, out of mind. It always helped you in times like this, a way to lull yourself into what was truly at stake. Lifting one hand you snap the visor in place.

You pulled up behind Vettel’s third place, he, sitting in a car similar to the one you currently sat in. Design wise, but not exactly when it came to performance, of course. But you knew you would just do better, not letting that clear gap separate the two of you. You could do far better than he would. You didn't fear him, that’s what it was all about- right?

Your eyes are burning holes right through his vehicle. As if the longer you stared, it would literally blow up.

He was scared of you?

Maybe he should be?

The lights slowly flash to life, a red hue taking over, one by one. You let a few breaths out into the helmet, and it feels nearly suffocating for a short couple seconds. The sweat already accumulated above your brow, you could taste that bitter saltine on your lips. And you watched and waited, and waited and-

Away you went.

You felt your body do that thing it usually did in the heat of a race. Become someone else. The way your heart was racing, not only with a tinge of fear but with something so unexplainable, so…unobtainable, indescribable. It brings you back to your inability to explain the overwhelming complexities of driving to anyone other than your own brother.

You could feel the way you choke out a rumbled laugh through the first few turns. Your engineer provided you with any foresight you weren’t so aware of.

“Doing great Button, keep up this pace we may just finish fourth too.”

You shook your head and waved a hand in the air aimlessly, knowing he could see you from his many computer screens. “C’mon, don't jinx me, I'm trying my best here!” He laughs, more so at how your own British accent tripled- meaning how genuine you had been in the situation.

You place your hand back onto the wheel and take another breath. That is a part of you that slipped through. And you needed to snap back in place. And that you did.

Your eyes were trained on Sebastian’s back bumper, only glancing someplace else when necessary. Repeatedly requesting your time behind.

“0.33” He begins.

“1.22”

“1.34”

You were lagging behind, your car not getting as close as you desired.

“Am I able to push my power a bit?” You request, biting at your lip, you knew how dangerous that really had been, but you still did it anyways at times.

“Very, very slightly Button, not recommended. Seb knows how to defend, he knows how you drive.” He alerts you, as if in a roundabout way of saying- don't even try picking another fight.

Yeah right, like you’d listen.

Just as you arrived at the fourth turn you could see Sebastian physically swerving on purpose to block you. You’re seconds behind had gone back to half a second. You were right there, you could practically taste your satisfaction.

“Button…” Your engineer warns, his voice a deep thick, spaniard accent rings into your mind. You hesitate, a sudden sense of guilt wash over you, was it your visor fogging up or the way your eyes strained so vigorously at the road in front of you.

His car left visible marks across the track behind him as he was barely racing- just defending from you. Well that was racing- but like he was fighting you, sending a message across to not only you, but the rest of the world watching. A new day, a new show to perform, right? You only click your tongue in annoyance, it was like he knew what you were trying to do.

While Sebastian was aware of what you were doing to get the best of him, he smirks, a smirk so wide his eyes crinkled, blocking his vision partially. He didn’t care though, he knew the ins and outs of every track, he could drive it all with both eyes fully shut. He was sure he knew the ins and outs of you, because his proceeding actions were something that really pissed you off.

You observed no one in front of him, not a soul was close enough, why? Because you both found yourselves fighting for the leading position. Sebastian had completely no reason to do what he just did. Yet he did it anyway. Because that was just the kind of guy he was.

Evil.

Slamming on his brakes as he turns the corner you could feel yourself struggling to halt behind him, causing you to jerk forward, the belt tightly buckled around your waist and chest digging into your skin. A yelp escaping in the meantime. Thinking he had really lost control for a moment, of course though, knowing Sebastian- he was more than in control. The car was one with the bull- or whatever the saying was.

Your mouth is set agape, you were absolutely in utter disbelief with his move. This was definitely not racing, not anymore.

He just slammed on his brakes…

He risked himself to argue with you, even while in the damn car.

A low growl leaves your throat, your hand slamming against the wheel, hoping it would just split in half. You found no reason to be in there anymore, there was no reason. Because all he wanted to do was fight, and fight you will, in or outside the car. You weren’t the type to take issues onto the track, and sure maybe you sorta were right now- but you promise it was for the sake of racing, not stupid petty feelings.

He was too insecure to admit it himself. This was his fault.

And you sure as hell can show him what it was like to get a taste of your very own nasty medicine.

You flung your hand into the air, curses leave your throat in a scream. “He fucken brake checked me!” Your voice at the highest pitch, scratching at your throat dangerously. Your engineer on the opposite end is probably wincing. You complained into your radio, not really stopping the curses from spilling past your visor. You were fuming, and you could imagine the way you were going to quite literally murder him after this.

The only thing your engineer does is listen, poorly. Which just frustrates you further
“Yep, I see that Button, just focus on passing him, don’t get ahead of-” He cuts himself off as he- in live time watches you do what you do.

You swerved so fast to the side you nearly lost the traction in your tires, but of course you bounced back. With your thickly gloved fingers you flew a flying bird his way as you rolled up next to Vettel. You pushed well past the power suggested, but did it regardless. You inch closer, crashing your tires together in a slam, in the meantime clipping his front wing. As a way to show your thanks in allowing you to literally smash into him you turned the vulgar hand sign to a thumbs up. Now he’d surely need to box right away, barely ten laps in, Giving you the time you need to maintain your stolen first place.

Sebastian on the other hand was a cursing German nightmare. He turned his wheel, attempting to make an effort to avoid whatever he saw coming from you. “What the fuck!” He screams. He gripped the wheel so tight he swore he had cracked splinters in his palm. “You’re just gonna let it happen? Tell her to give my spot back, that is not fair!”

You can’t see the way he looks to you as the two of you make eye contact for the shortest half of a second. You can’t see the fury in his eyes as you wave past him, you don’t notice the way his heart is practically being dragged by the back wings of his car.

For once…you don’t notice Sebastian at all. So absorbed in your own tale to tell. This was your moment now. No Sebastian to steal your hopes and dreams.

You're laughing maniacally, it felt so…relieving. Like that knife that Christian shoved into you back in March was now pulled from your chest and placed right into Sebastians, right through his own chest, his pride bleeding all over the track.

You felt like a king- even when your engineer had informed you of your 10 second penalty you just quipped back, the laughs still gradually leaving your lips, “Yeah yeah, no problem.” You were so high on satisfaction that you didn’t even care.

Because, look who you are now.

Oh how you just wanted to see his face so bad after the race was over. No- you wanted to do it again- and again and again.

Perhaps the lack of sleep and positive mental health was getting to you. You were acting crazy.

So crazy that when the race had progressed and you had lost a few places, Daniel was behind you now, and you weren't the only one trying to get back at others. Daniel saw the chance, he wanted to pass you just as you had him a few races ago.

Just as you had Sebastian.

You felt generous enough, attempting to allow your teammate through, you wanted to extend the fruit from your tree. You wanted to give Daniel an opportunity to feel just as you had, you were so elated that you were willing to appreciate Daniel’s effort as the new number two driver since everything had begun.

You move your car to the side, attempting to communicate with your engineer, “I’m letting him-”

But..neither of you could predict what happened next. You don’t think you could even recall it, you weren't sure what you could even do differently if you were brought back five seconds earlier.

All you felt was the way your helmet banged against the material of the car. The way you groaned at the uncomfortable feeling of being tossed around like you weigh nothing. The belts strapping you down were digging into your sides, thankful to god that you remained in the same spot, despite your body remaining balanced your head didn't feel so okay. You could hear the distant ringing of your radio murmuring into your ears. The world suddenly oh so blurry, a mix of dust and random debris covering your visor. You clenched onto your helmet as you flipped it open. You groaned,

“Is this Karma?” You questioned the radio to indicate you were alright, for the most part. Your head was spinning, both mentally and physically. And while you had crashed many and plenty times before it still is the scariest thing you’d have to endure in the sport.

“I think so, Button.” he confirms in response, sounding relieved. Unbuckling yourself you forced your lower body out of the STR8. Swinging your legs over the car.

Staring at the damage, stumbling slightly in your step you just screamed, that was the only response you could muster out. But you didn’t cry, no you were more mature than that, that’s what you’d been telling yourself all morning.

It was unfair, it was so unfair when someone else succeeded and you couldn’t. You wanted to prove yourself.

You threw your helmet off your head, violently tugging at the too suffocating balaclava over your face, your hair flying free in the wind of the chaos. The protective gear hits the ground with a thud surely garnering more scratches than it already obtained.

More and more curses left your lips as you clenched onto your head, squishing it until it felt as if it would explode. The overload of emotions rushing into your veins were so familiar yet so…foreign.

You continued to stumble, still dizzy and more than obviously injured.

Maybe you were making a fuss out of yourself, sounding like a brat- but if the guys could do it- so could you, no difference here. You kicked at the dirt beneath your feet, stomping too. You could feel plenty of bruises staining themselves all over your body, you could feel how intense they’d be in an hour's time. Your entire being was up in flames, stinging and fizzing everywhere, whether it be from the brewing anger or the literal injuries you had achieved you felt numb all at the same time.

You felt nothing.

You had to prove yourself, and so far you felt you only failed.

–

The doctor had deemed you as injury, concuss free, well- not entirely but nothing too severe had occurred. You just needed to really ice and work through those bruises. Warning you how they’d hurt for a few days- but on the other hand you’ll be good as new by Monaco. You’d hope so.

Like a duo, two of the most annoying drivers on the grid stalked over to you. They were the reason you were even hurt in the first place. You barely step a foot inside your own garage, a headache already forming from their mere presence. Maybe you should've asked for Advil while in the med quarters? You could feel something horrible slowly consume you, and it wasn’t anger, not nausea. No…it was..a choking sense of emotion. One so bottled up you thought you would have to cough the tears out if you dried out all the possibilities.

“What was that?!” Daniel speaks first, he’s fuming, and you aren’t sure why- he may have clipped you, causing you to spin out and DNF but he still got to actually finish the race. His stance was one of resentment, as if you had made an embarrassment of him. His sharp Italian features came together to produce an expression filled with such annoyance. His jaw clenched so tightly you could basically feel the abruptness of his attitude.

“You have got to watch yourself!” The German butts in his round- usual expressions are replaced with more striking features.You noticed the way the ends of his eyebrows curve upwards, as the inner turns downwards, coming together to convey just how angry, fuming, and… well you couldn’t tell what the last one was, you couldn’t read him as well as he read you. His lips are puckered slightly, his cheeks a slight pinkish tone- more evident than it would be if you stole them. And his eyes…they were brighter than they usually are, his pupils bigger than the entire universe. You notice the way his eyes flicker up and down your body, but you don't pay much mind to it. Because, why would you?

The more intensely you glare at one another, ignoring Daniel completely between the both of you, somewhere inside of you there's Webber in the mix too, laughing in the background. Definitely and Luckily, he’s nowhere to be found.

The paddock was buzzing in excitement towards the three individuals who had actually won the race, Fernando, Kimi and Felipe respectively.

“Your tag teaming me now!?” You ask, your mouth open wide, this was absurd, blasphemy! Yet no one was on your side, obviously. You wanted to be in the league with the big guys? Here you were, with no support. Was it your fault you got ahead of yourself? Sure- maybe but that didn’t matter.

You wouldn't be surprised if the crew of cameras would soon start strutting your way seeing the commotion you all were creating. Almost as if begging for someone to film the scene. You didn’t bother actively searching though, you just assumed they were already there, frothing at the mouth wanting something to make you look worse than you already were.

“No one’s tag teaming anyone,” Daniel states, placing himself in the middle again as if trying to convince you to pay attention to him, not Sebastian. Daniel was probably imagining how he wished he just ran you over and got you over with instead of sparring you.

Or were those just your own inner impulses coming to light?

Ricciardo is furious, he's angry- not only with just you but the entire team that seems to forget his existence entirely. And now you. He was nothing to everyone. He wasn’t performing the same as you- something he and Webber have been slowly trying to come terms with. But if he still had a chance for that Redbull position he wasn’t about to throw it all away just like that. His conclusions being the way you drove as of late only seems you were either trying so hard to lose the seat or gain it and he wasn’t sure which one it was.

The way Sebastian looks at you though, there's a hint of something, something so slight you're not even sure if it's even there, and it bothers you. Your eyes are still glancing at Sebastian every few dragging seconds. You can’t hide it anymore. You couldn’t…you wouldn’t, this was more than how Daniel fucked you over earlier. This was how Sebastian decided to treat you, what happened? You wanted to know, so desperately that you were at a loss of words. What happened to the night in Monaco where you swore you heard him apologizing to you? And while sure, you had thought it wasn’t real, the look on his face right now proved otherwise- He was disappointed, he felt betrayed- despite the fact he was the one responsible for how the plan had gone haywire.

Was this how he felt?

“That was reckless.” Jenson joins in on the conversation, not taking your side either. But he does it in a softer manner, obviously still caring for his own blood. Worrying for you. “You should’ve known what was going to happen if you were being too smug about things,” He begins, providing unsolicited advice. Maybe this is what he should have said before the race- it obviously wouldn't have changed much of the future though.

You're surrounded by everyone you’d rather not, and you aren’t even sure if today was worth it, you got that taste of satisfaction and karma. You got no points for the first time that season and you were in shambles, you were basically running on pure numbness now, the stinging of the bruises really helped with that.

Suddenly you suck in a breath, pushing your tongue to the bridge of your mouth, tightening every muscle. You covered your face with a hand, the other waving them all off. There was no point in continuing a conversation if it wouldn’t get anywhere in your mental state. Too ashamed, too unwilling. You were breaking, cracking…crashing. All those stupid emotions were getting to you, the dull sensation being replaced with pure pain. Nothing but pain so severe you stumbled again, recovering your footing.

Jenson, cautiously steps forward, inviting himself into your bubble, wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for one short second of a side hug, knowing you weren’t too big on touching- especially right now. But the older brother in him was heartbroken. He knew better than anyone else knew how you felt. His similar eyes well up in some kind of sense of pity. He was so worried for you he came right over, finishing the race as fast as he could to check up on you. He tried to threaten his team that he would retire- but they only advised him against it, ensuring you were alright. But he wouldn’t believe it until he saw it.

Feeling the warmth of your brother's sweaty suit against your own, brought a moderate amount of comfort to you, until he let go, not trying to be so overbearing. Readjusting his McLaren cap, “We still got plenty of races to go,” He reassures. As your brother, he knew how much your pride meant to you. He knew why you were fighting the way you were, on a pedestal so high no one else’s crowned expectations could compare. No one else but you had to maintain such a flawless track record. But now that you crashed, it was over.

Jenson assures that he will talk to you later as he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket- his team probably wanting to find him for a few last minute talks. He’s reluctant but he reaches for your hat and tips it down further to bother you, to earn a reaction of some sort, but you don't really respond. Maintaining your composure you look up to him with such saddened eyes, such desperate ones, begging Jenson not to leave- but he does, squeezing your shoulder as one last apology.

Your actual teammate approaches you, after you all silently watch the older Button take his leave, something clicks in the air after seeing the twist in your features in response to the soothing hug Jenson offered. With a heavy, defeated sigh, Daniel just pats your shoulder, never really ever abiding by your rule, you twitch- about to brush him off, yet you endure it. It's a confusing flurry of indication that he won't hold it against you seeing the way your face was permanently in the shape of a frown, the light tone of your skin was now dimmed, you really were bummed about this.

And everyone knew what had happened out there, they watched it from the comfort of distance. They all knew how it felt to crash and lose that tiny sense of triumph, determination, passion, for the sport. Most importantly though, they knew how to recover, unlike you.

You didn’t want to- no you would never admit it. But something deep within convinced you that this wasn’t worth it, that you really didn’t deserve to be here. That you were just a woman.

You had no place here.

Your lip quivers at the sight of the only person left. You peek behind the shade of your cap, all that was left was Sebastian. The two of you and the world with all eyes. The media, the fans, everyone knew why you argued with Daniel- still, no one knew about your problem with Sebastian. It was more than complicated, because as of late, you realized what the reality of your situation truly was, it was more than Mark’s stupid seat, and your banter with Daniel and the sneaking behind Jenson’s back. It was more than any of that to you. It was worse.

The taller male just stares, looking down to you for a few moments longer than appropriate. He pushes his cap down his face to hide the way his blue eyes grimaced at the mere sight of your anguish. He pitied you, you could tell, and that’s what surprised you, suddenly not as angry as he originally was. Because it was true, he wouldn’t lie to himself- he did brake check you, and he was in all honesty impressed by your perseverance through it all. Seeing you like this just reminded him of who you were.

You weren’t him. No, It was all an act. Yeah, it was obvious you show potential better than anyone could have imagined, but you were you. There was no one to compare. That was his mistake, he didn’t put you on a pedestal because you were a woman, or younger, or in your first full season, no, he put you to his standards, he forced what he couldn’t achieve onto you. The more you convinced each other you weren't like the other, the more the two of you intertwined, the complexities of the strings tying together, the one you previously felt you were following.

You both share that similar need to be something far more than yourselves. He spent his career until this moment being Schumacher, and you? Sebastian. He saw where the faults and strengths in him lied. He could see his own mistakes on his own. As much as he hated to accept them.

He saw how bright of a woman you were underneath your whole “tough” persona, he wanted to give you a chance. No, that’s why he did give you the chance. Because he knew Christian wouldn’t have thought about it for a second. This whole ordeal would’ve been on Daniels back if he hadn’t fought for your name to even be considered.

A hand lands on your back, you didn't even realize Sebastian was still standing in front of you, or how he took a step closer to bring you in, his fingers gently landing around your waist, pulling you in for the shortest hug that you would argue was just a bump of your bodies colliding. He physically presses you into his chest as his thumb creates small, calming circles.

You visibly bite at your lip, trying to suck in the tears threatening to spew. You hesitantly lift your hands to clutch onto him too. Tightening yourself around him. “I’m sorry…” You mouth through shaky lips, and your breathless tone reaches his ears- but he isn't completely sure he heard you say what you had.

You could feel the way your brain churned, it didn’t matter if Sebastian was the one who provided you with that desperate sense of comfort or not. Because at the end of the day, you needed someone to pay some sort of mind to your struggles.

In this case- and every single time preceding it was him.

“We still have more races to win.” He promises, before quickly letting go, tipping his hat in a quirked motion leaving you be. The cameras continued following him, focusing their attention on the cooler guy. You were thankful they actually seemed to…oddly respect you. Or someone had told them off- regardless, you felt like you were coming down from your high and mighty state.

You and Sebastian had never shared such…emotions, so foreign- so…distant.

You allowed that overwhelming choked-up sensation to burst as Sebastian left you too. You couldn’t tell why- or how it was even possible to even be here- in this situation, you theorized for a moment, thinking of the following events, but it just landed all back to Sebastian, as it typically did. You were so frustrated, so confused, so lost, you didn’t know how to be like him.

You wanted to blame him, you wanted to push him away and scream until you passed out.

Jogging fully inside the garage, gripping your hat to keep it tilted down, you felt too congested- too breathless to actually go into your own room, you wouldn’t make it. Your palm lays flat against the wall, using it to control your balance. But when your knees buckled, and you coughed out a sob, your free hand covering the way the whites in your eyes were slowly becoming red from the strength of your denial. You slid down the corner of the wall, pulling your knees up, burying your head into the perfect crevice. The feeling of the foundation against your body was rough, painful almost as it smoothed over every single one of the small scratches and swellings you afflicted. You didn’t even know where you found yourself sitting.

When the sobs had become more fierce you didn’t care at hiding it, you let your cries fill your ears, your conscience, not caring for the actual busy world around you.

You felt more and more tears hit you. As if you were reliving the crash again and again relieving every single moment from March. Recalling every single action you were advised against, recalling how you knew you would end up crying until your wits end at some point. You could feel the pain in your body multiply, probably some sort of placebo effect, or your brain's way of telling you to suck it up. You wish you could, you wish you could just stand up and walk it all off like it was nothing. But in truth it was everything to you, you were an adult now- the big leagues. No one had done what you had and here you were, being the most foolish version of yourself for nothing. Nothing but attention.

You liked it, you loved it. It was something so unobtainable that you were noticed for a talent you garnered by simply watching the people you love grow up doing the same exact thing.

It was times like this that discouraged you. All your efforts down the drain, you were down the drain. You and your dreams.

That part of you you despised came out. And you sat there, in a ball in the middle of it all. Knowing that even when you recover, would you really change? Only you could answer that. Look how far you’ve gotten by acting like this, could it really be at the hands of a faulty move?

You had become completely clueless, unsure of how long it had really been since you sat there. No one approached you, no one tried to comfort you, which you appreciated. Because maybe you just needed to accept life as is, before you began agreeing on any more stunts.

Or talking to Helmut, Tost or Horner.

Opening your eyes, unable to ignore the silent, ghostly awareness of someone's presence next to you. You could feel the way their heat radiated onto your depressive being, or even how close they were. Their leg brushes against you, a signal of them not just standing there for the sake of it, but for you. You could hear the way their clothes rubbed together when they readjusted their stance, or the clearing of their throat when they saw that your sobs had died down.

You snuck a peak, lifting your elbow to provide you a small window. A pair of drivers shoes, and the very deepest blue of a driver's suit you were more than familiar with stood there. Who did it belong to though? You were scared to see. You sniffed the snot and tears away finding the courage to angle your window upwards. You could sense your stomach tying itself in a knot, some sort of…hope filling your chest.

Maybe the past few months you just were not accepting the real reason you got in this mess. What drove you to agree without much arguing on whether you’d do something or not. Or the way you refuted it with your own challenge. Something to bind the two together. The hope and mystery of what was to come.

You suck in a silent breath of air as you arched your neck above, nearly shyly to see him.

Sebastian’s gaze was already lingering onto you. Locked onto you.

“We make mistakes often, it’s nothing to beat your career over.” In another life Sebastian would’ve called you a crybaby of all people, if he didn't feel that overwhelmingly guilty state you were always in, then maybe he wouldn't have been here. A rare sense of compassion and willingness pushed him to return to your garage.

He was standing there, silently, somehow whisking past the camera men who had been following him so closely. His rounded, softer features were back, licking his lips in a nervous fit, this was the Sebastian you knew. This was who you looked up to.

He first tried your driver's room, only for your manager to stop and inform him of your unknown whereabouts, so he tried elsewhere. Somewhere along the way he had found himself clutching an unopened water bottle. One for you but also as an excuse for his visit despite what you had done to him.

You sniffle some more, wiping your nose with your sleeve. “I’m not-“

He chuckles, a deep soft one, his grip strengthening on the bottle. He was having second thoughts- he wasn’t so sure what he was doing anymore. You may have changed but he was losing a sense of himself too.

Who was Vettel if he was being nice to a potential rival?

“You are,” he assures, “You’re crying after what happened,” Biting the inside of his cheek he takes a shaky breath, trying to calculate his actions.

“I’m not crying.” You sniff one final time, brushing the fabric of your suit against your eyes and nose, lifting to your height. You look up at the Red Bull driver. You could lie and you did, yes, but it didn't make much of a difference, because no matter how you attempted to save yourself, it was obvious you were crying.

There were still some stray drops sliding down your red swollen cheeks, or the prudent gaze you held accompanied with the slight puffiness of your bags gave it all away. You rubbed your face so aggressively that it really showed on your features, that torn, uncontrollable want for answers lay directed to him.

You ran a hand through your tangled locks, fixing the cap that was previously lopsided. “The crash just hurt, I think.” You added as if that would help your white lie. “I’m fine.”

This was probably the best time to leave him hanging, just as you always did but you remained planted into your spot. You wanted to know why he came back, all this time after all you’d been nothing but a dick- no, a total bitch. You didn’t expect him of all people to even think of trying to come back.

You were crying over nothing, you deserved nothing.

“Here, maybe you're just dehydrated.” Sebastian hands you the bottle, definitely not as cold as it originally was. He goes along with the unwanted mention of your cries. You look up to him, surprised but raise your hand, taking the offer regardless.

You unscrew the top but thought against it, just leaving it as it was for now, feeling some sort of awkward pressure from the male. His intense observance of every action, gesture, breath is obvious.

As you glanced past the German, It was no longer the early afternoon, the sun had dimmed itself in the sky slightly, your eyes dragging their way to the clock perched on one of the blue stained walls, it was nearly 5:30 now. You’d been sitting there since the entire race ended. Sulking for more than an hour.

Now it was the step of just embarrassment.

“You’ll get in more- worse crashes.” He tries to smooth the wrinkles in his features, trying to restore your cause. “We all go through something we had high hopes for.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” You retort before biting your tongue and turning away, you couldn’t even hold yourself back even when someone was nice to you.

“You know that isn’t true. What have we spent months doing now?” He ignores your statement, not taking offense. He attempts at getting you to feel motivated, proud of all that has been done. You notice the way he still implies that you both were in this together, that even after what you had done, and will probably do again it was still Button and Vettel.

“Winning…” You sniffle again, catching a few more droplets on your sleeve. “Y-yeah…we won…Bahrain…” Your eyes brightened at the mention, your cheeks lifting in a small sort of smile. You look more than physically exhausted, out of it, you look older, that youthful glow you usually wore was stolen from you, replaced with nothing but irreversible shame.

“Yeah, like a Multi 1-1” He makes this up on the spot, alluding to the infamous Multi 21’s events back in Malaysia. For you two, it's like a win- win situation for both the favoured drivers.

“Multimap eleven?” You add on, fixing the saying to be smoother just as you heard Webber say back then while rewatching that race- being naturally nosy as to what had happened between the two of them.

He nods, his teeth showing behind his lips, a few bittersweet laughs escaping. His cheeks reaching his own eyes, “I don't know if anyone else would be happy with that.” A sort of inside joke the two of you share, where no one enjoys your company more than each other. Of course that isn’t obviously true, but it's nice to have a few small moments just between you.

He lifts his arm, and he does what he usually does before he touches you- he hesitates, Consistently going through the mental back and forth, but this time he thought against it. He couldn’t do it, believing he had already been too over the top with you today. He needed distance to maintain this friendship.

A small grunt leaves his throat as he positions his weight back on his feet, his body no longer being in contact coolly with the wall. “I like to take ice baths, helps me get back on my feet.” Clearing his mind from anything creeping up on his conscience, voiding his thoughts he takes a step back. Letting out a breath he hadn’t believed he was holding for such a long time.

You follow his movements with your gaze but remain where you are, the bottle gripped deathly within your grasp the same way he had.

He wasn't just pulling at your strings anymore, this was more than that. He was making an effort in order to tuck them with his own.

And that was proven when Monaco had actually come around.