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saintescuderia · 5 months

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pancakes (pt. 5)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: sorry this took so long. pls enjoy.

P5 - occasional spotter

Zak Brown wasn’t exactly sure what to do.

At first, this was just a driver issue. It was clear what needed to happen and Zak knew it was rough doing that to Daniel. However, Ricciardo was, admittedly, just plain horrible in the car. Zak had hoped, he really, really had hoped Daniel would turn things around. But that just didn’t happen. Daniel was supposed to come in and take the lead from Lando. But that just didn’t happen.

So when Oscar Piastri seemed onboard with joining McLaren - and face the risks that would come with essentially abandoning Alpine - it seemed like things would be on the up. He was a young driver but that leap of faith had paid off with Lando before. Besides, Oscar had one of the best CVs coming into Formula 1. He also was still young enough that he could be moulded to the likes of any car. Unlike Daniel who preferred front-end focused cars that accommodated his late breaking style - something that just didn’t happen in a rear-end focused car such as the McLaren.

And so, Zak did what he had to do. Out went RIC3 and in came OP81. If only with an odd requirement.

Zak had agreed to the young Oscar’s random request to try and acquire a random Hospitality worker he was friends with as a trainer. Drivers do what drivers do. It wasn’t the oddest thing Zak had ever heard a driver ask for. If anything, that was nothing compared to some things drivers in the past had come up with as a condition to signing. Zak accepted Oscar’s request without much thought.

Boy, was that a big mistake.

Evident by how he was now faced with the stare of one very unhappy Christian Horner in a meeting Domenicali had called ahead of the Saudi Arabia race. Whilst Zak usually left Andrea to these things since he was the team principle and, unlike Mercedes with Toto or Red Bull with Horner, McLaren had a split role between CEO and TP. Zak could pick and choose when he had to face these assholes.

“Stefano requested you specifically boss.” Andrea had informed him.

Zak half-wished for one of the cappucino's from Oscar's friend as he walked in to what was most likely going to be Horner and Wolff snitching on another. Zak forced the fake smile on his face - he knew the others would be smug about how bad the MCL60 was performing. He had half expected Horner to sit there grinning at the apparently karma all the journalists were reporting on since Red Bull were dominating. And Oscar had DNF'ed.

Except when Zak followed Andrea in and actually approached the bookclub circle of team principles, Horner was anything but glib. No, he was fuming.

“Gentlemen, thank you for joining us— Guenther!” Domencali sighed, looking at the door.

“Fucking washed up idiots— ah, sorry teacher!” The German TP ducked his head sheepish as he walked in late to the meeting. Guenther left his assistant and took his seat next to Fred Vasseur, the new Ferrari team principle, who was holding a hand to his mouth, trying to hide the amused smile. Zak rolled his eyes.

“Thank you Guenther.” Domenicali said with a pointed look, then addressed everyone. “Now, there have been some issues brought forth to me and I thought we should be reminded of a few things.”

Christian’s eyes remained on Zak’s. It was unnerving. Zak turned to Andrea who seemed to have caught on the Red Bull boss’s less than enthusiastic stare. Zak’s brows furrowed, clearly confused. Andrea's eyes widened slightly and then he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his shoulders. Zak shook his head and then looked up as if to say, who knows? The communication between the two men who had worked alongside each other was clear; they were both at a loss with Horner's anger.

“Firstly, Hospitality staff are part of the Formula One Group and are not to be affiliated with any one team.”

Horner uncrossed his legs and then crossed them the other way. A vein appeared in his forehead.

Ah.

A wave understanding suddenly washed over Zak. He darted his eyes down as he fought to keep the smile off his face. Was Christian Horner that bored that he went snitching about some Hospitality worker?

You hadn’t even agreed to join McLaren and opted to draft up some agreement between you and Oscar on how you would ‘unofficially’ train him. What was the big deal?

And so Zak voiced that.

“If this is in regard to one of my drivers having a friendship with a Hospitality worker, surely we can move on.” Zak said, his eyes darting over to Horner who looked like his blood was going to boil over.

“No we certainly will not.” Christian jumped in, finally setting off. “It’s in her contract to not join any teams.”

“She hasn’t joined McLaren.” Zak retorted casually but internally wondering about the mention of you having a contract.

Christian immediately bit back. “She’s training your driver, is she not?”

“Oscar occasionally spots her in the gym. They’re mates.” Zak shrugged, downplaying the fact that Oscar just this morning had walked in with a new diet plan for him and Andrea to look over that you may or may not have suggested he try for the next three months.

Given your lack of official qualifications, Zak was surprised by how detailed it was with the macro breakdowns and having recipes tailored the local cuisine based on race calendar. He was half tempted to get Lando on it. He would’ve had it gone against Oscar’s 'contract.'

Which boiled down to just this: anything you do for Oscar is for Oscar and Oscar only.

Not McLaren, not F1 - just Oscar Piastri.

“I’m sorry, but the fuck are we talking about?” Guenther jumped in, thoroughly confused as to what was going on.

“About him poaching one of my trainers.” Christian sneered. Guenther frowned, evidently that answer not being enough to explain what was going enough for him. The German looked at Fred who made a motion with his face and hand. Qui sait? Who knows?

However, some not all TPs were at a loss as a smug Toto Wolff finally caught on and joined the conversation. “But she’s not your trainer anymore.” Toto said, ever so casual. Obviously enjoying seeing Christian Horner angry about something.

“It’s against the contract.” The Red Bull principal said.

“To join any new teams, yes.” Toto countered. Christian's eyes narrowed for a second as he regarded Toto. Everyone's eyes were now on the staring competition between the two fierce rivals.

Save for Domenicali, who took a second to look up at the stars above and consider his life choices. Sitting here amidst the drama, he was just glad his PA reminded him to make sure Netflix wouldn't be here this morning. Dio.

"What?" Toto asked. "You think I wouldn't try to hire the trainer that made Max Verstappen?"

It is with this that Zak Brown finally felt unease settle into his gut. Zak had hear the rumours - everyone had heard those rumours - but he didn't think that the person in all that controversy would actually still remain in the world of Formula 1. Let alone work in Hospitality. How F1 even managed to get that to work sent Zak spinning.

Then again, they had managed to cover up much worse.

"Yes, the contract says no new teams." Toto spoke. "That means she can still join Red Bull or AlphaTauri."

Christian scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, that's never going to happen."

"Or Ferrari." Toto added. His smirk grew at how he dropped that bomb and Christian's face dropped along with it.

"Qui - who are we talking about?" Fred asked, chiming now at the mention of his team.

"Yes, I would like to know this also." Guenther said, digging his hands into his pockets.

Domenicali took this as his turn to speak. "A Hospitality worker. She worked at Torso Rosso as a trainer until... an incident with Verstappen occurred. Formula One decided her skillset and knowledge was too valuable to retire her. She agreed to stay on as part of Hospitality."

Zak and Andrea shared a quick look. This was not missed by Horner.

Nor was the look Toto and Fred shared.

"What incident?" Guenther asked, ever so nosy.

"That's confidential." Domenicali's response had Guenther openly rolling his eyes.

"Look, this is the first I’m hearing of it." Zak spoke up, feeling the need to address the revelation about Oscar's fellow Aussie friend. It was clear that there was a lot going on here and with how Horner was staring at him - and the pointed look Toto was giving Fred - Zak was starting to get a sense of how much a mess this was. And it was messes like this he strove to avoid.

"There wasn’t anything about it on her file." Andrea added. Beside him, Aston Martin's Mike Krack had started furiously typing away on his phone.

"Yes," Guenther added, "because it's confidential." He winked and Zak appreciated the German's sarcastic attempt at humour to mellow the seriousness a little bit. Mike Krack chuckled. Domenicali sighed.

"But I can assure everyone there is no McLaren contract." Zak continued, "She’s just friends with Oscar. Aussies and all." He added his own joke that fell on deaf ears.

Horner snorted. Not at the joke, but at his own side comment: "Wouldn’t be the first Australian she’s gone for."

So the Daniel Ricciardo rumour was true.

Still, Zak ignored this and addressed Horner head on. "Am I supposed to tell my drivers who they can and can’t be friends with?"

"Ferrari do it all the time." Christian said with a sardonic grin, turning his whole body to look at Fred Vasseur. It was clear that there was also something there - to which Fred was clearly at a loss at. Clearly being the Ferrari TP was still not enough to know all of Ferrari's deep, dark secrets.

"Bah, gentlemen, this is the first I have heard of all this." Fred said with a slightly chuckle, his reaction genuine. It was the first time he heard about any of this.

Christian gave yet another scoff. "How about you ask your driver then?"

"Which one?" Fred asked, still amused as ever with the whole situation. For Fred, he saw nothing serious enough to warrant a full TP meeting as this. Yes, Toto was giving him eyes but Toto was always chasing after the gossip and drama. Fred always preferred to stay out of it. It was how the two men had remained friends for twenty years despite their ruthlesss line of work.

"You have not even told me the name of this Hospitality worker!" Fred's French accent became all the more prominent as he was all smiles.

However, his good humoured air was soon to be stepped on through Horner's answer. "Y/N Tessio."

Upon hearing that name, even Fred Vasseur knew all too well just which one of his drivers he needed to speak to.

Charles' first day at Sauber had him arriving in some flash JDM car and dressed in some cool looking sneakers. In his hands, he had held a Tupperware container of pancakes.

Australia, 2018

In the private section of the Melbourne Grand Prix parking lot, a black Supra was quietly tucked away with a boy and girl sat in the front, staring at each other.

“Mais non."

"Mais oui."

You grinned at Charles and ruffled his hair for good measure. It was his first day with Sauber and you were adamant that everything would go right. You had been up since 5am, making sure everything was ready. You had his schedule written down, re-ironed his shirt - there was a slight crease under the left armpit - and made him breakfast. Then you had shook your best friend awake to make sure he had enough time for a morning run before you passed him some limited edition Nike Forces and drove him to Albert Park for his first ever Grand Prix race weekend as a Formula 1 driver.

You both got out of your car and Charles came around to see you stuff something in his backpack. He immediately recognised its contents.

“Tesora! Pancakes? Encore?” Charles huffed but did nothing as he watched you shove the Tupperware container in his bag. You knew Charles’ schedule better than your own at this point - vaguely in the back of the mind you knew you had to meet Max somewhere - and so you knew he had meetings all day. And you would be damned if he was going to eat that nutritionally deficient piss poor catering Costco sandwich spread Sauber was likely to have on deck. Besides, pancakes was tradition. You had even arranged the strawberries and blueberries to resemble something of a car, you thought.

“Sì. It’s tradition. Vas-y!” You matched Charles’ switch from Italian to English to French. Granted, tesora - Italian for treasure - was just his nickname for you since it was close to your last name. Still, it brought a smile to his face and he shook his head. He accepted his bag and slung it on his shoulders. You both started to make your way to the Paddock entrance.

“Do you have your lanyard?” You asked.

“Oui, Tesora.” Charles said with a tired smile at you mothering.

However, coming up to the check in, Charles tapped his pockets only to feel nothing. He dug through and you sighed. “It should be in the front zipper.” You said. “That’s where you last put it.” Charles nodded and gave the security guard an apologetic look as he tried to swing the backpack around to reach for the zipper. Seeing the struggle that was about to unfold, you immediately went forward and unzipped the bag for him and pulled it out.

“Merci.” He said and squeezed your arm in gratitude before tapping in. You followed suit and once in the Paddock, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

“We’re in Formula 1 together!” You said and shook his arm in wide excitement.

“Oui, Tesora. Grace à toi.” Thanks to you. Your smile grew at Charles’ words. You chucked your arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair once more before turning ahead. Charles’ height meant you were reaching up slightly but you still had your arm around him. He looked down and smiled at you, you unaware but in a state of excited bliss. Your dream was finally coming true! However, your arm got tired and Charles snorted as you dropped it with a muttering complaint about driver height.

Noticing his laugh, you frowned. “Oi, no laughing at me.”

“Oi! We are in Australia, non.” He repeated.

“Aye, mate that’s right.” You said, elongating the sounds to emphasise your Australian accent. Charles shook his head and laughed. His English was mild at best and when you did that accent, it was as if you were speaking another language entirely.

The banter continued through the Paddock as you and Charles went on. A comment about vegemite had him darting away from you trying to kick his feet from under him. It was at this point that Daniel Ricciardo arrived.

“Woah! Watch who you’re kicking, Kung Fu Panda.”

You felt your stomach drop with the butterflies that arrived at the sight of your boyfriend. Even after dating all this time, Daniel still made you feel like it was the first date and you wanted to throw up from nerves.

“Hi.” You said, pulling up short.

“Hi, yourself.” He said, coming round to wrap his arm around your shoulder. Given that you both were out in the Paddock, that was probably the most PDA you would share. So it was surprising when you pulled back for Daniel to duck down and press a quick peck to your lips.

“Oh, uh.”

“Charles, hey man.” Daniel acknowledged your best friend who was stood there awkwardly, holding his backpack straps. You looked at Charles and smiled. He really did look like a schoolkid on their first day.

“Hello.” Charles greeted. You chewed on your lower lip. It wasn’t lost on you how Daniel still kept an arm around you as he shook Charles’ hand. It also wasn’t lost on you how Charles’ smile didn’t reach his eyes when he shook Daniel’s hand.

You had hoped that after all this time your best friend and boyfriend would gel a little more. However, for whatever reason, it just didn’t seem the case. When you asked Charles, the answer you got was a dismissive ‘it’s a guy thing’ that you never were able to press further. Daniel was less help as he would just shrug and grin. “I got no problem, babe.”

And yet, whenever you mentioned Charles, there always was a slight falter to Danny’s grin, a tenseness that settled on his shoulders and an overall vibe that Dan just wasn’t a fan of you mentioning your best friend, your admittedly male best friend.

Then again, Max Verstappen had slept on your couch more times than you could count. One time Daniel came to your hotel room to find Max asleep in your bed while you showered. And he had absolutely zero problem with any of that.

And so, staring between the two drivers, you could only hope that whatever guy thing Charles spoke of didn’t come up on track.

“Hey Max was looking for you. Said he needs your advice on something.” Daniel said.

“Okay, let me just see Charles off and I’ll be there.” You smiled pleasantly at your boyfriend.

“Charlie’s a big boy now. He’s a Formula 1 driver.” Daniel said, nodding at your best friend. “Congrats, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Charles said with another of his smiles that he had perfected for the media. You frowned. Then Charles met said frown. “C’est pas grave.” You knew the switch to French was likely in response to the fact that Daniel’s arm was still around you. “I’ll see you later. Message me.”

You really, really didn’t want to leave. This was Charles on his F1 debut.

But he was already set on leaving - since Daniel had no intention to do so.

“Okay.” You said, emphasising the French lilt of the word that Daniel could still understand. It was much of a happy medium as you could manage in the moment. Even with your boyfriend’s arm around you, Charles still came for the both of you to kiss each other’s cheeks.

“Ah, that French goodbye. How come you never say bye to me like that?” Daniel said with a laugh, steering you away as you and Charles went your own ways. His hand dropped down to grab yours and you looked down at it curiously

“Would you like me to say goodbye like that?” You asked.

“I would like kisses.”

“Noted.” You said with a flaming face. Sometimes it still shook you that this man - the Daniel Ricciardo - was your boyfriend. “Hey, by the way, since when did we start with the PDA?”

“Since the beautiful Australian sun is shining down on this Grand Prix season opener where I am feeling lucky.”

“Oh, are you?”

“Yeah, in more ways than one.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Your face became hot - and not just because of the weather. “Come on, you can’t say you don’t want all of this.”

Your response was to push him away. Daniel’s laughter only rang out as he went for your waist. He pulled you to him and made loud kissing noises that just made you laugh. You both arrived at the Red Bull garage where Max was talking with Gianpiero Lambiase and Christian Horner.

“Ah, the lovebirds have arrived.” Christian said as GP smirked at you. The race engineer Max had been given was someone you had immediately clicked with. Unlike some (most) of the Red Bull staff, you liked GP because he had a sense of maturity about him that you hoped Mx would learn from. That and GP didn’t get intimidated with Max’s tantrums.

And dealing with Verstappens, it bodes well to not get easily intimidated.

“How was Leclerc’s drop off?” GP said as he came forward to bump fists with you. You had texted him that you were going to be late today.

“It was good.” You nodded, not wanting to give too much away. Even though Charles was another driver on the grid that Red Bull would be looking to beat - and would given an Adrian Newey Red Bull versus a Sauber - you still wanted to protect Charles as much as possible. Even if it meant within your own team.

Daniel chimed in, joking. “Had to go rescue her from the enemy but she’s back home now.”

“Good man.” Christian said, patting him on the shoulder. “Shall we go to your garage and get you set up.” Christian nodded at you and you nodded back. Daniel winked and let his boss lead him to the other side of the garage. You watched them walk, your eyes then landing on Max to the side, quietly sitting by himself as he observed the many engineers working on his car.

“Had a visit from dad recently.” You looked to where GP had a hand over his headphone’s mic and was leaning in to whisper to you. “It’s too hot to be wearing a jacket.”

You had noticed that too. It was a warm day but Max had his thick Red Bull parka on. You met GP’s eyes and realised that you both probably had the same sad and worried looks on both your face. You nodded at GP and he left, going to speak with some mechanics and you walked forward to where a young 21 year old boy sat. Hurt.

“You good, Max?”

He looked up at you and nodded. Then his eyes went back to the car. You sighed once more. “Come on, I think it’s time for a track walk.”

“We have a meeting in an hour.”

“So we better walk fast, then.” You grinned. Max looked up at you. “I’ll message GP. Come on, I want to get a coffee on the way.” You tried again, reaching to flick at his cap. He nodded and then stood up. “We’ll be back!” You called out and walked out into the sun filled Paddock. You grabbed your coffee - Max getting a Red Bull - and arrived at somewhat empty track.

“Most drivers are doing their walk tomorrow morning. It’ll be empty.” Max understood your words and silently handed you his Red Bull to hold so he could slip out of the jacket. You couldn’t see anything on his forearms.

You took the jacket out of his hands and passed him the Red Bull can. “Let me hold this.” You said to him. You would hold the jacket, you would it all for Max. Anything you could do to lighten the load of the young driver who still looked every bit the scared 16 year old you picked up from the petrol station all those years ago.

“He, um. He grabbed my arm really tight. There’s this big bruise. And I know some people are starting to catch on and I don’t want them to see and think I’m still a baby who needs to be disciplined.”

You sipped on your coffee as you listened to Max. He was your driver and your training was more than just physical. You would be there for him in anyway that he needed. You always did. There wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for him to see him succeed, to see him happy.

Hence why the next time you caught Jos Verstappen laying a hand on Max, you didn’t hold back.

In the present day, Fred Vasseur sat at the pit wall. He kept a watchful eye on the times of one Australian rookie all throughout the race weekend here in Jeddah, one of the hardest tracks on the calendar.

He outperformed his teammate. And the car.

Oscar Piastri finished 9th.

Later that night when walking through the Paddock to go home after all the post-race debrief and meetings, Fred Vasseur would happen on seeing a girl run into Oscar's arms.

You, the one who made those mini pizzas.

You hugged the rookie tight with one hand, holding something in the other. Even from a distance, Fred Vasseur could guess what was in the plate.

Pancakes.

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