Chapter Text
“Isack!”
His eyes scan the crowd before he notices me next to all the VCARB employees. It’s a mess of hands reaching out for him and people cheering, but he manages to reach me.
His arms wrap tightly around my neck, pulling me closer to him and jamming my ribs into the barrier between us.
Though it’s muffled by his helmet, I can just barely him saying, “oh my god,” over and over again.
“Ace, oh my god!” he yells, swiping up his visor and leaning back to look me in the eyes.
His are slightly wet as they squint at me, like he’s holding back on crying.
I chuckle, carefully wiping a thumb over the corner of his eyes. “That was amazing, you’re gonna be on the podium!”
“I’m going to be on the podium!” He blinks at me and it’s like I can see the grin on his face even when it’s behind the helmet. “I told you I could give you a better race-” His sleeve is tugged on, pulling him back over to his mechanics, who all take their turn in smacking his helmet around and shouting incoherently. To which he shouts back, jumping excitedly on the spot.
The team next to me now makes some noise as Max approaches the barriers.
He receives some pats on the back and a few compliments as he gets shuffled down the line of people.
When he reaches me, he pulls me into another hug that makes my ribs hurt. There’s probably already some kind of bruise forming there.
His lips brush up against my ear, his breath warm on my face. “I’m going to spray champagne all over you and you’re going to find out how disgusting it is.”
I huff, shoving him away. “Don’t. I have to spend the evening with the Ferrari guys and I don’t have anything to change into.”
He just chuckles. “Well, you should run away now before I get the chance.”
Hm.
Yeah, he’s probably right.
Besides, I need to go see the non-podium people too. Don’t want them feeling left out.
Max walks back to where the cars are parked, and I take the opportunity to slip through the mass of employees now that everyone has calmed down a bit.
Plenty of people are leaving their garages to go get a good spot in front of the podium, even if it isn’t their driver that’s up there.
The Ferrari garage doesn’t seem very interested in any of it.
At least Charles isn’t stranded on the side of the track anymore, and his return seemed to lift a few people’s moods. Especially Lewis’.
I don’t think the two of them even noticed that I slipped out for a few minutes, they just wanted to talk with each other.
“You know what, I’ll just buy us a bottle of Moët,” I suggest with a shrug as I join them again, “it’ll be like we won the race. ...without all the hard work.”
“Mm…” Lewis raises an eyebrow at me. “Don’t think it works like that.”
Charles sighs, just heading to the exit of the garage as he fixes his hair back in his cap. “It doesn’t.”
“I bet it would help things though,” I respond, trying to stay by Lewis’ side when he trails behind Charles. “As alcohol usually does.”
That gets a snicker out of Lewis as we walk out onto the back street.
Loud cheers come from the pit lane, as well as the announcers voice which I can barely just hear.
“Some sleep would help me,” Charles mumbles, running a hand over his face.
Nearing the Mercedes motorhome, I spot a tall man with dark hair, dressed in black pants and a white shirt staring at me.
I’ve definitely seen him before.
Actually, he’s probably not looking at me. He’s probably looking at Lewis. That would make more sense.
But Lewis doesn’t seem to notice him, just checking his watch instead.
“No dinner?” Lewis asks with a frown.
“Dinner’s on me!” I offer quickly, getting ahead of them to swipe through the gates.
They both give me another look, as if they want to argue but they know it’s useless. Which it would be.
“Perfect.” I give them a thumbs up. “Dinner then.”
And after that?
Well… onto the next race.