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sbdskate · 7 months

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Laws Of Attraction (Part 8) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies (kind of)-> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, McLaren, bad jokes

Word Count: 4,277

A/N: I tried out some different writing styles this chapter and candidly, I’m not sure it’s my best work. There are more scenes from DR’s perspective and I found out that writing race dialogue is very difficult. I tried to stay true to the actual Abu Dhabi 2022. Please bear with me through this chapter, feedback of any kind is always appreciated. Please, thank you, and enjoy!

When you arrived at the paddock, Daniel was still distracting himself by taking pictures of literally everything, including the ground. You let him be though, no matter how silly it seemed. The last thing he needed was to psych himself out before the race. As you approached, the McLaren PR crew was already waiting with cameras to get content for the last Unboxed video of the season which was your cue to peel off.

“How are you feeling?” you asked hesitantly, making sure to keep an appropriate distance from your client.

“Honestly, I’m fine. Maybe I’ll feel different once the suit’s on, but right now I’m good.”

“You’ll let me know if you need anything, right?” He caught the seriousness in your tone and found it endearing you were being so protective of him. It seemed you were more nervous than he was.

“Actually, hold on,” he stopped walking.

“What? Is everything alright? Oh-” *click* “Daniel!” He laughed at your disgruntled expression as he lowered the camera.

“I’m fine, promise. I’ll see you after the race.” He gave you a polite pat on the shoulder as he began to walk away, but you grabbed his arm before he was out of reach and pulled him in for a big hug before you could second guess yourself. He didn’t think twice as he wrapped his arms around you. You quickly released him, reinstating the arm’s length between you.

“Good luck today, you’re going to do great,” you said as you composed yourself. He walked backwards continuing your extended goodbye, unable to look away from you.

“I know,” he said, with a cocky smile plastered on his face. *click*

You snorted, your stoicism overpowered by his charm. You waved one last time as a sendoff before he disappeared into McLaren hospitality.

As usual with race day, it was a lot of hurry up and wait. Daniel exchanged helmets with Lando and Zhou, sat for photos with the team, sat for photos with the grid. He tried to take in every detail. He laughed when he walked in the garage and saw his mechanics donning cowboy hats embroidered with “yee-haw thanks DR” and the outline of him doing a shoey.

Everyone seemed to think he would be walking around as though he were attending his own funeral, but for the moment he felt he didn’t have much to be sad about. He needed a break – from the spotlight, from McLaren, from training, from racing in general, and there was no shame in that. In twelve hours that break would become a reality, and that was something to be very happy about.

When it came time to change into his race suit, he waited with baited breath for the garment to exert some kind of magical force over him. He stood in his drivers room waiting for the tears, or nerves, or something. Everyone told him it would hit him when he put the suit on. But he examined himself in the mirror, widened his stance and put his hands on his hips. Power pose. No, he was still the same Daniel Ricciardo, despite what people tried to tell him. And this was just another race.

It was less than ideal starting P13 due to a three-place grid penalty carried over from the Brazilian Grand Prix after his run-in with Yuki, but Daniel pushed aside all the growing frustrations as he waited eagerly for the lights to change, feeling his pulse sync with the idled roar of the engine. The few seconds before the race played out in slow motion, as they always did. The rest of the pressures of the moment faded away as he focused on what was in front of him, ready to react. He was at peace, and allowed himself to feel the overwhelming therapeutic emptiness. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

And it’s lights out and away we go!

He survived the first lap shuffle and chaos, but lost a position to Lance. There was still plenty of race left though, and his goal first and foremost was a clean race without a DNF. Making it through the first few clustered laps unscathed was step one. Once the pack started to disperse, he began his grueling climb back to the points.

Here comes Daniel Ricciardo on the inside of Schumacker, gaining a place back.

It was lonely for a while. He extended his lead from Mick, but couldn’t seem to fully catch up to Lance. Lance pitted on lap 14, as expected with mediums if going for a two-stop strategy, allowing Daniel to gain a position. It subsequently opened up the floodgates, others shortly following suit bringing Daniel up to P8. He knew he would have to pit eventually, but if he could just nurse this set a bit longer and maintain this position as long as possible, he had a shot to finish in the points.

Lap 18, Daniel Ricciardo still hasn’t pitted yet.

Even in the last race, it shouldn’t have surprised him that McLaren would try to short stick him one last time. Good riddance he would be done with this circus in an hour. George passed him, as he expected in better machinery and on fresher tires.

He finally pitted on lap 20, switching to hards. The team did a great job with a 2.3 second pit stop but he came out in P18. He had a job to do, it was time to get to work.

Daniel Ricciardo, down in 18th place. Making some overtakes and having a bit of fun. Makes a lovely move on Kevin Magnusson going into Turn 9.

In quick succession, he picked off Mick and Bottas, Seb pitted, and somehow Alonso DNF’d. Before he knew it, he was back to where he started in P13.

Fernando Alonso has not had the best of luck, our first retirement of this evening. Mechanical failure. That is a real shame for him, real shame. Meanwhile, here comes Sebastian Vettel! Haven’t said that in a while. Very nice move on Pierre Gasly.

News at Alpine that there’s some water leak, that was why they had to pull Fernando in. He feels the unreliability there has cost him nearly seventy points during the course of this season. Since he came back to Formula One, well, the reunion with Alpine then Renault has ended in retirement. Sad for all parties. And this means that Fernando Alonso has been beaten by his teammate, Esteban Ocon. But I’ll tell you a bit more about that later, as Daniel Ricciardo manages to get past the Alfa Romeo of Zhou Guanou.

He encroached on Alex, smelling blood in the water. Even though Alex nicked the wall, he maintained the position longer than he thought. He had to respect the work the kid was doing in that tractor trailer of a Williams. The track conditions were cooling as the sun set, making it difficult to regulate the temperature of the tires.

Daniel Ricciardo trying down the inside there on Alex Albon. Now you saw what happened in Mexico when he tried that on an unsuspecting Yuki Tsunoda and they came together, but this time around they managed to keep apart. But uh, for McLaren they need to start clearing a few cars here. Norris is seventh. Ricciardo out of the points. Albon now pits.

He wished he could have overtaken Alex properly, but he wasn’t complaining as he gained another position. The second stoppers continued, moving his way up to P9. He could breathe a bit now that he was officially in the points. But it was short lived as his friend, former teammate, and mentor had popped up in his rearview, more than two seconds behind, but quickly closing the gap. There were still fifteen laps requiring him to preserve the tires while defending his position.

Sebastian Vettel is gaining a bit on Daniel Ricciardo in tenth place. Ten laps to go.

He almost missed the second Aston Martin in his rearview as Lance passed both of them. He shared Seb’s frustration that they were the sacrificial lambs of their respective teams testing out the one-stop strategy. He was still in the points for now, but Seb was an admirable adversary and with only seven laps left in the race he would not take the position for granted. With officially one second between them, he had to push. They were both on very old tires, but Seb’s were younger.

The two leavees, Ricciardo and Vettel. Vettel’s closing in on Ricciardo, and he’s going to get him in the next lap or so if the current pace keeps up. Five laps to go in the Formula One season, 2022.

And oh my God, what’s this? Hydraulic problem for Hamilton, as you can see as Carlos Sainz passes Lewis who’s still stuck in seventh gear! This might be curtains for Lewis Hamilton this evening. He’s got it down into fifth gear – oh. Oh no, this is disappointing.

As was the nature of racing, he wasn’t going to question his adversary’s misfortune. With a mechanical failure taking Lewis out, he moved back into P9. He was so close to the finish line he could taste it, but Seb was still less than a second behind.

The final lap. He saw the fireworks go off for Max, but he couldn’t lose focus.

Daniel Ricciardo under immense pressure from Sebastian Vettel. This is going to go all the way to the wire.

There’s twelve million dollars on Sebastian Vettel trying to overtake Daniel Ricciardo here, twelve million dollars if they can get extra points at Aston Martin to see if they can get above Alfa Romeo in the Constructor’s Championship. Is it Ricciardo or Vettel? Nineth or tenth? Both drivers leaving as of the end of this season. Ricciardo potentially to go as a reserve driver at Red Bull. Sebastian Vettel waving goodbye to Formula One and giving us thrills and excitement right to the checkered flag! Is he going to get past Daniel Ricciardo? It’s going to be close!

Ricciardo takes that nineth place, Sebastian Vettel scores tenth in his final race! And well, what did he say? “Remember these times, they might not last forever.” Sebastian, thank you. The memories definitely will.

Daniel's jaw unclenched to let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in that moved his whole chest, shoulders relaxing. He barely had time to process what he had just accomplished when his engineers came on the radio.

“Yes mate, P9. Good job. Finished in the points. Good stuff, good stuff.”

“Cheers guys, that was, uh, that was fun at the end. Think we did well to hold him off, well done. That was good.”

“Great race buddy. Great overtaking, that was a proper Honey Badger show, that was good.”

He bit his tongue. He could only be so pleasant to the people who had diminished his confidence over the last two years. Having officially crossed the finish line of his last race, he would remain polite and cordial but didn’t feel the need to suck up to them more than he needed to.

“Daniel, could I have Purple Default 64X. And if you could go back to Purple C1.”

He did as he was told, unphased by the short radio congratulations. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when a picture of his win at Monza last year popped up with the rest of the team. The memory of that day came flooding back and the feelings that went along with it. The triumph he finally felt. The renewed sense of hope for what may come with the rest of his tenure with McLaren. The Daniel in the picture had no idea he would basically be kicked out of the sport he loved so much in less than a year. He had no idea he would fall out of love with it, even as he was just starting to get his groove back.

“That’s cool,” he chuckled. “That’s really nice, thank you guys.”

“Cheers buddy. It’s been an honor, Daniel. It’s been an honor, really great good two years.” He hated the lump he felt in his throat. “I know we haven’t always had the results we’ve wanted, but we’ve had some pretty good ones along the way. And uh, I think I speak for everyone on the team when I say how much we’ve all enjoyed working with you.” He swallowed thickly, praying no one had eyes on the front facing camera in the car.

“Yeah, appreciate your efforts. Thank you…Alright, it’s nice to finish in the points. Well done guys. Thank you.” He did his best to switch the conversation back to race at hand, taking away the focus of the gravity and finality of the situation. Looking at it in isolation, away from the totality of the last two years, it was a good race. He continued to drive and wave around the track, doing some donuts here and there, but the gestures felt empty.

“Ok, so into the pit lane, and when you turn the engine off then go to P0. Kill the car and switch everything off.” The back of his eyes began to sting. Switch everything off.

“Understood. Uh, alright guys.” There was so much he wanted to say but he was never good with words, especially not at this moment. “Thank you. I think you know…how much I appreciate your efforts over the last two years. So… thank you.” He tried to keep his tone steady, but felt his voice crack. “And thanks for this display, on Purple C64. Cheers.”

“Yeah, 03 we weren’t really able to use I’m afraid.” He knew the engineers were only talking about the mechanical configurations, but the words felt like a gut punch. They were done with him. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

The feelings he had waited for all day, the ones everyone expected, suddenly hit him like an avalanche. He wanted to get out of the car desperately, but couldn’t do so when he was a mess like this. It was probably the last time for the rest of the night that he would have any time to be by himself with just his thoughts. It was done – and he realized again after taking a few moments to compose himself, maybe for now that was a good thing. What was it Seb had said?

“There are a lot more important things than racing in circles.”

He jumped out of the car, feeling the impact of the gravel below his feet. He stretched his limbs, finally free from the confines of the cockpit and was hit by a wave of relief that washed over him. He was free from expectations, restrictive diets, constant jet lag. Free from McLaren. All he had to do was get into his ugly orange team kit one last time for post-race interviews. He knew he would be asked hard questions, about his past and his future, but he was ready. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and if anything, had many things to be proud of. You’re the only driver to have won in that brick of a car in the last ten years you constantly reminded him. He finished the season on a high, including a great race battle with Seb. He was done hiding, done minimizing.

So he went from interview to interview, unafraid to be honest with himself and the world. It’s ok to admit that he’s had a hard time the last two years, that he’s happy to be taking some time away from the sport and to take care of his mental health.

He slowly made his way back to the McLaren garage as he pushed through the crowd, dodging fans trying to get selfies and autographs, politely declining additional interviews and comments from strangers. In a sea of blurred faces, he spotted you. One of the mechanics had gifted you an extra celebratory cowboy hat and you appeared to be in deep conversation with one of them. Your hands moved around animatedly as you spoke, like they always did when you were passionate about something. The mechanic laughed, and he wondered what joke you had told or whether you had said something unintentionally funny. He found himself smiling, excited to get the answer.

The mechanic noticed him first and waved. He touched your shoulder and pointed in Daniel’s direction. You squinted as you searched the crowd with intense focus. Daniel’s heart nearly exploded when your eyes finally landed on him – you waved eagerly with the biggest, brightest smile on your face that put all the track lights and fireworks to shame.

The mechanic gave him a quick hug and pat on the back first, adding a subtle wink for good measure before walking away, seemingly aware of the need for the two of you to have your own space. For the second time that day, you engulfed each other in a warm, firm hug that perhaps lasted a beat too long. He liked how you perched on your tip toes to get your head as close to the crook of his neck as possible. He liked the feeling of your small, delicate hands on his back. He liked that he could smell your hair products, distinct from the scent of your perfume, sweet florals and jasmine contrasting accents of patchouli and bergamot. He liked you.

“Congratulations! I’m so happy for you, you were amazing today,” you gushed.

“Thanks,” he said, knowing that the flush he felt in his cheeks wasn’t from the race.

“How are you feeling now?” you asked sincerely. He took a moment to think on it before answering.

“I’m not sure. Good I think, but tired.”

“That’s valid.”

“How was your day?” It was an innocent question, so he was confused when you laughed. He was just trying to make conversation. “What?”

“You just had your last race of the season and you’re officially getting out of your contract with McLaren tomorrow, and you’re asking me how my day went?” He shrugged.

“I’ve already talked about myself more than enough today. I want to hear about you.” Your laugh lines softened.

“Well, let’s see. I didn’t have to work, I met Usher, and I got to watch my friend’s last F1 race and he kicked so much butt. So I’d say it was pretty great.” His heart skipped a beat. Friend.

“You met Usher?” He glossed over the other stuff, unable to trust himself if you delved any further into the topic.

“Yeah, he was hanging out in the McLaren garage. Did not have that on my 2022 bingo card. But uh…” a sheepish grin grew on your face. “I don’t think he appreciated I kept dropping his lyrics in casual conversation.”

“Oh no,” he laughed, and the smile on your face grew.

“Y’know… just when I thought I said all I could say, he was like…yeah. And he also said -”

“Hold on let me guess,” he said between giggles. “You remind him of a girl he once knew.”

“You know…you would not believe all the things she put him through,” you said, joining him in laughter. He observed you playing with your hands behind your back, your chest puffed slightly, clearly finding great joy in your own corny jokes.

“Maybe if we’re lucky he’ll perform at the McLaren afterparty.” The words rolled off his tongue before he had the chance to think about what he was asking of you. It was one thing to go out with some of the other drivers offsite, but a McLaren sponsored event when you had been their adversary only a short few months ago was less than appropriate.

“You’ll have to let me know.” His heart fell a little, not missing the polite decline of his subtle invitation. He didn’t want to admit how much he truly needed you there. But he was on a roll with this whole honesty thing, so he bore his soul to you.

“I don’t want to go,” he said in a low voice, running an anxious hand through his hair. “I’m tired and I don’t know how I’m supposed to spend the night celebrating with these people. I can barely look half of them in the eye.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had begged for anything. He hoped his plea would be convincing enough, but you only gave him a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll be ok. Lando will be there, and there are plenty of people in your garage that had nothing to do with the decisions Zak or Andrea made. You still have people in your corner. Lots of them. And they want to celebrate with you.” He closed his eyes as you encouragingly rubbed the side of his arm, but finished with a firm pat. “Chin up. You’re almost done.”

Right. The race was only half the battle he would face today. Until the end of the day, he was still an employee of McLaren.

“Will you come pick me up if the kids at school are mean to me?” He always used humor as a defense mechanism, but he hated how much truth there was in the metaphor. You leaned in close to whisper your reassurance, a calm pleasantness in your shadow of a smile. You spoke slowly and deliberately.

“I will commit a felony and make it look like an accident if anyone is mean to you.” He was left grinning from ear to ear when you pulled away, your quiet resolve contagious as he felt his anxiety melt away. “You got this, and I promise I will celebrate with you after everything is signed tomorrow.” You extended your pinky, and he gladly linked his with yours in a solemn vow.

“Fuck ‘em all, yeah?”

“Fuck ‘em all.”

You sat in bed freshly showered, full body shaved, and facemask on. You felt guilty as hell sending your client off to the lion’s den with no support, so you had gone straight back to the hotel once he was out of sight. There was no need to go to the Amber Lounge or anything, not that you would even be able to get in without Daniel. Besides, you had your own personal Super Bowl tomorrow that you needed to be prepared for. You had ordered room service and shot off a few emails when you heard a knock. You checked the time – it was nearly midnight. You wrapped yourself in the cozy hotel robe for modesty before checking the peephole. To your confusion, but not surprise, you saw Daniel standing by himself in the hallway.

“Hi?” He looked up, admiring your frame in the doorway. You were just as beautiful in a robe and slippers as you were in a LBD and Louboutins. He bit his lip for a moment, clearly holding back a smile.

“Hi. Uh, I think you got something-” he trailed off, lightly brushing the tip of his nose with his finger.

“What? Oh! Fuck. Right.” You turned around to quickly rip the nose strip off your face. You winced, feeling the sting of the adhesive. You did your best to hide your discomfort and embarrassment with a smile when you turned back around. “Sorry about that. You’re back earlier than I thought.”

“Yeah. I figure I showed enough face for the evening. Plus big day tomorrow, right?” You nodded, unsure where this exchange was going as he fidgeted in place. “Also…” he looked around cautiously. “I didn’t want to get caught stealing this.” He pulled a bottle of very expensive champagne from behind his back, proudly presenting it to you. Your jaw dropped and morphed into a giant grin in spite of the arguably illegal activities that had transpired.

“You didn’t…For me?” You grabbed the bottle from him, feelings goosebumps form when your fingers brushed. “Wait. If I accept this, does it make me an accomplice or accessory after the fact?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know, you’re the lawyer. You tell me.” He took a step forward.

“Well. I’m not going to say no to a free drink I suppose,” you said, examining the bottle in your hands. He cleared his throat.

“I figured we could enjoy it after tomorrow – or, I mean, you could enjoy it,” he took another step forward. For reasons unknown, he seemed to lose confidence as the gap between you narrowed.

You looked back up at him, inspecting his condition. Perhaps he was a little tipsy, but he was far from being wasted which you were pleasantly surprised about given his apprehensions going into the evening. It either meant he wasn’t leaning on alcohol to handle his emotions, or he was taking tomorrow’s signing very seriously, or both. Whichever one it was, it demonstrated restraint and growth and you were proud of him for it. Admittedly, you had also been nervous leaving him to his own devices for the evening. You had wanted to go with him, to be there for emotional support. You had relied on the rationale that it was a McLaren sponsored event, but at this point the two of you had a consistent track record of blurring the lines of professionalism and friendship whenever you went out together. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him – you didn’t trust yourself.

But the man standing in front of you was composed and mature (relatively speaking, of course). Perhaps a little nervous, as you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. But nevertheless, even after the emotional, mental, and physical turmoil of the day, he stood before you with respect and poise. Yes, you trusted yourself with him wholeheartedly.

You took a step back, opening the door wider.

“How about we enjoy it now?”

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