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fangirl-dot-com · 4 months

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Chapter 25 - Release the Ice Bath Thirst Traps

Ok guys! here we go!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED (sorry for those who have asked)

For the very end of the chapter, there's something I made up for Singapore (this fact is made up just for the story)

Like always comments, questions, concerns, inbox messages, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Love you all and enjoy :D

The moment you stepped out of the cool, airconditioned car, your team shirt suddenly clung to you. Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead as you made your way through the paddock. Max had warned you that Singapore and Qatar would be impossibly hot: you just didn’t think it’d be this bad.

All you wanted to do now was go back to the hotel where it was ice cold. You wiped your brow with your forearm as you got closer to the garage. Giant fans welcomed you with air. It wasn’t freezing cold, but it would do. You were already on your third water today, smartly forgoing the Red Bull that was bound to make you dehydrated.

You stood next to Max as the team had a quick debrief. The heat was definitely getting to you, as you really couldn’t remember a word that anyone said. You blink your eyes as they were burning with sweat. Your older teammate could only offer you a remorseful smile.

Max could see that the heat wasn’t going too well with you. You had told him beforehand that some females, including you, just couldn’t regulate their temperatures as well as males could. Women often gave off more body heat than men did as well. This caused the Dutchman to send out a group text, warning the other drivers to look out for you.

You groaned as you tried to put on your fireproofs and race suit. The more you moved around, the more you seemed to sweat. You kept your suit tied around your waist. You definitely wouldn’t be putting it on until you had to be in the car.

Max was already zipped up by the time you returned.

“Here.” He handed you another ice cold water bottle.

“Thank you Max,” you croaked out, making the Dutchman look a little weary at you. You just smiled back.

“Once we qualify, we can go to the ice baths.”

Max would have thought that you would hate the idea since you always showered with the water at a boiling temperature. Yet, he could see that you were slightly “warming up” to the idea of a bath full of ice (pun intended).

From the corner, Mitch watched as you poured the remainder of your water on your head. She had requested a few ice packs to be ready for you when you arrived, but sadly they weren’t completely frozen. She’d make sure that you’d have them for tomorrow.

Surprisingly, your laps were great with you qualifying in P3, behind Charles once again. Halfway through, you had opened your visor, trying to get some air through your sweaty helmet. Your water pouch had to be refilled multiple times between sessions. Yet, your trainer advised you to try not to drink so much during the race, as they wouldn’t be able to refill.

Mitch had come over to your car as soon as you were back in. You gave her a big smile as you started to get out of the car.

“How are you doing kid?”

You took a moment to look at her outfit. Where a pantsuit should have been, there was a Red Bull Tank top and some very loose pants. You were jealous that she got to wear those while you were stuck with skin tight clothes.

You gasped a bit for some cooler air once your helmet was off.

“I’m good. Max said something about an ice bath?”

Your eyes were faintly glimmering with hope for something to cool you down. Mitch smiled at you.

“Yep. I put a change of clothes on your bed, but I think you need some help?”

You nodded at her question before heading to your room. You didn’t want to waste any time getting out of your suit.

The zipper came off smoothly. Mitch definitely saw that you had sweated through your fireproofs and felt terrible. Surely, there was something that the team could do.

You giggled. “I’ve probably already lost a few pounds.”

Mitch rolled her eyes at the terrible joke. If anything, there was truth in that statement. She had seen the numbers after you got weighed and you had lost a lot.

“Well, there will be lots of food for you to fill up on.”

“I hope we’re not going to go over the catering budget again.”

Mitch let out a snort as she helped you out of the sticky fire proofs. She pulled out a bag and handed it to you. You grinned at the sight of the limited clothes in the bag.

“I didn’t think that you’d want to go out in full bikini, so there’s a sports bra and some spandex shorts. I’ll wait for you by your door and will walk you to the back.”

Once Mitch left, you quickly peeled the rest of your clothes off. The sports bra and spandex were all black, and covered everything that needed to be. You said a quick thank you to her in your mind as you got dressed. Your skin was definitely cooler with no clothes to stick to, but you were still sweating.

You swung the door open.

“Ready to go?” you asked, giving her the bag back with your other clothes. They would definitely need to be washed by tomorrow.

You followed the woman to the back, going through multiple doors. Once she opened the door to the little outside area, your eyes landed on Max, who was already soaking. His eyes were closed as he leaned his head back on the tub.

Yours was a bit more like a giant trough, filled to the brim with ice.

Mitch spoke as you got closer. “We thought that you’d need more ice, hence why yours is bigger. It’s also more insulated with the metal than the plastic. Do not stay in more than 15 minutes. We don’t need your temperature dropping too much.”

You tossed your foot over and gingerly place a toe in, just to get a feel for it. The temperature was perfect and you found yourself sinking into the ice.

“You think it’s ok if I dunk my head?” you asked Max.

He didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

“Go for it kid.”

You held your breath as you sunk below the ice layer. Your brain went a bit fuzzy as the freezing water went over your scalp. You let your eyes open under the water, just to feel the cold and relieve the stinging.

Once you came up gasping for air, Max finally looked over.

“Had fun?” He laughed a bit.

You lovingly flipped him off. Your hands came and brushed your hair back. You looked over at Max’s plastic pool, and saw ducks in his. You pouted once you realized that you didn’t have any.

“What’s wrong kid?” the Dutchman asked at the sight of your pout.

You murmured, “I didn’t get any ducks.”

Max rolled his eyes before gently throwing one of his ducks into your pool. Your eyes immediately lit up as you began to play with it. Max just watched as you found so much joy in something so little. You felt his gaze and you guessed that you needed to say something.

“I never had a rubber duck growing up. It’s so cute.”

You held the little yellow thing in your hands, right in front of your face. Max had a sad smile as he watched.

“You have plans for after the race?”

You sighed as you let the duck rest on the water, not breaking the surface tension.

“Logan, Oscar, and Lando wanted to go see the city and I said I’d join them. Something about needing a good drive around Singapore.”

Max snorted. Of course the group of three would want to invite you. The door opened, which had the two of you whip your heads to it.

“Oh, hey David,” you greeted the photographer. You sank back into the ice, still enjoying the cold. Max groaned when he realized what David was there for.

You smirked as you looked over at your teammate. “Ready to do some thirst traps Max?”

The Dutchman rolled his eyes. “Let’s leave that for Ferrari and Lando.”

You giggled at the statement. “Yeah, I would rather not show much on screen. Taken woman and all.”

That time, Max laughed.

David looked apologetic. “Just need to get some pictures. Trust me, this isn’t my favorite.”

He took some pictures while you and Max tried to look as non-sexy as possibly. You definitely tried to sneak some goofy facial expressions in. You kept your whole body submerged and thankfully the ice kept anyone from seeing much below your neck. David quickly thanked the two of you for your time before leaving.

“Instagram is going to have a field with those.”

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing splish, splash - racers in the ice baths

liked by arthur_leclerc, y/n.nation, rookie&maxie, landonorris, and 846,294 others

redbullfan what the heck is this?? this was not the thirst traps we wanted

maximillian he's giving "moto-moto likes you"

y/n.nation everyone is focused on the lack of thirst-traps, I'm just focused on the amount of ducks that Red Bull has

oscarpiastri what are your duck's names?

landonorris probably can't top cold, as, and fuck y/n.89 max's is James Pond and mine is Duck Norris landonorris my son?? y/n.89 no - something american so you won't understand logansargeant DUCK NORRIS RAWWRRRRR

rookie&co BOOOOOO TOMATOES TOMATOES TOMATOES

f1fan I know admin is hiding the thirst traps

charles_leclerc no thirst traps?

maxverstappen1 we leave that to you and the Spaniard y/n.89 I mean, I could be sexy if I wanted carlossainz55 sure chica, sure y/n.89 who is single? and who is taken maxverstappen1 HA

iamred_iamyellow ducks, ducks, ducks, ducks

You snorted at the Dutchman’s bluntness.

The timer on the wall signaled that it was time to get out. You let out a giant groan as you stood and climbed over.

Mitch came in with two big towels. One for you and one for Max. Your skin was finally covered with goosebumps instead of sweat. You quickly had an idea as you walked back to put normal clothes on.

“You think I could dunk my head in before I get in the car? I think my wet hair will keep my head cooler if I do. It’s something about heat escaping through your scalp when you overheat. If it’s covered by my balaclava and my helmet, it can’t escape.”

Mitch finished your thought process.

“So if you wet your hair, your scalp can be cooler longer.”

You nodded before heading into your room.

“Ah, Max wanted me to hand this to you.”

It was a normal Red Bull polo, which made your brows pinch in confusion. But, you shrugged and took it anyways.

However, once you started changing you realized that the shirt was almost three sizes too big. Yet, you grinned as you put it on. Since it was oversized, it wasn’t sticking to your skin as you started to sweat a little.

The crew laughed a bit at the sight of the giant shirt almost swallowing you. But, you didn’t care about that. You were significantly cooler and you could follow the last debrief of the day.

Sunday night came and went super-fast, and you were thankful this time around. You were definitely more cool that you had been for qualifying. Mitch had sent the ice vest to you early, so you didn’t start off too warm. With your hair being dunked in ice water, your head was cooler during the race. The little bit of breeze that you got helped as well.

That bit really helped you stay focused as you gained another podium. Surprisingly, this was Max’s first time winning in Singapore. Adrian really made sure that the car could keep up with the street race and not end it like 2023. Charles came in a very close second.

Charles and Max poured their champagne bottles onto your overheating body. Halfway through you needed to sit down. Your body was slowly becoming even more dehydrated and hot as the minutes passed by. You were kind of held by Max as the three of you left the podium.

The Dutchman had a worried grip on your bicep as he held you upright. He needed to get you some water, quickly. You thankfully weren’t on the verge of passing out, but he knew you were thirsty. He heard your radio toward the end where you were just begging for a drink. Max couldn’t imagine being without water, but he normally didn’t drink as much while racing.

He gently set you on a seat in the garage, before turning away to get some things. Your eyes were closed as you sat right under a fan. Max soon returned with a cooling towel and three bottles of water.

The cold of the towel made your eyes open as he put it on your neck. Your race suit was tied around your waist and your fireproof shift had been swapped for a thin, random oversized shirt. Max gently cooed as you leaned into the cold water bottle on your face.

“There you go,” he whispered as you finally were able to take big gulps of water. He unscrewed one of the other bottles before he lightly tipped it over your head. Streams of water ran down your face as you finished off the water bottle.

The team was glancing at the two of you. In the back of their minds, they were worried about how you’d react to Qatar, which was way worse. However, they held on to some hope that it would be cooler than last year due to it being moved later on the race calendar.

Your water bottle was on in moments. You flashed a smile at your worried teammate.

“Thanks,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath after guzzling.

Mitch came from the back with another woman who was holding a device. Mitch kneeled next to Max and put her hand on your knee.

“Hey kid, we just want to make sure that you’re okay. Brianna here is going to take your blood pressure and other vitals just to be safe.”

You only nodded and leaned your head against the wall. The medic made quick work and started to strap the device on. Max stood up and walked a bit away, just to give everyone some space. His eyes caught glimpses of orange, red, and blue and he could only guess who it was. He took one more glance at the situation before walking out of the garage.

Logan, Charles, Lando, and Oscar were waiting patiently by the opening. They all looked up once they heard Max walk out, but deflated when they realized it wasn’t the Red Bull driver they were looking for.

“Is she doing okay?” Charles asked first, concerning the other three boys.

Lando put his arms out, stopping any conversation.

“What does he mean by ‘is she doing ok?’ Where’s Y/n?” the Brits voice going more high pitched the more he started to panic.

Max sighed. “She’s just having a hard time with the heat. She got super dehydrated this weekend and really couldn’t get over it.”

He pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

“They’re just checking vitals I think, to make sure everything is ok.”

Logan sighed loudly in concern. He definitely knew what it was like, getting memories from Qatar 2023.

The American asked, “Is she going to race in Qatar?”

Max blinked slowly before answering. “She wants to. The team is really hoping that it’s going to be significantly cooler than last year. And they know to get her started on hydration much earlier. I talked to her physio and she thinks that Y/n’s diet also wasn’t right.”

Oscar raised his eyebrows. “Diet?”

Max nodded. “Yeah. She was apparently eating foods that might dehydrate the body, like lots of salt. Her physio said that she’ll start her on more fruits and water heavy foods way in advance. And drinks as well, more electrolytes.”

Lando nodded in agreement. “I remember when I had to do that. They took away my chips for like….months.”

They had been so into talking that they didn’t notice that you had walked out, now changed into shorter shorts and a bigger top (one that Charles strangely recognized as one of his brother’s shirts).

“Are we ready to go?” you asked, getting closer. “Lando is driving because I am done for today.”

The boys looked a bit guilty at your tired face.

Oscar spoke up first. “We don’t have to go driving if you don’t want to. We know you’re probably tired.”

You waved your hands and made a sound. “Nope, I’m good. Nothing will ever beat the one time I spent an entire summer on a farm in the middle of Texas.”

You pretended to shiver at the thought, making the group laugh.

Charles suddenly remembered why he was there in the first place (well, second because he was worried about you after the podium). He handed you a small bag. Opening it up, you saw a bright colored water bottle. You raised your eyebrow in question.

The Monegasque smirked. “From you know how.”

Your face practically melted at the loving gesture as you looked at it. Lando, Oscar, and Logan suddenly got the memo.

Logan wrapped an arm around you first. “Aww such a sweet little boyfriend.”

Oscar looked at Lando.

“Where’s my water bottle?” he mocked whined, batting his eyelashes at the Brit. Your rolled your eyes.

Lando put his arms around the Aussie. “Don’t worry love, it’s in the car.”

The Brit puckered his lips before pretending to lean in. You just watched with an annoyed grin on your face. You looked at Max and Charles and winked, the Dutchman and Monegasque getting what you were about to do. You shrugged Logan’s arm off before taking a step toward your teammate.

But, you purposefully made your knees buckle and fell into Max and Charles’s waiting arms. Lando and Oscar shut up quickly, before yelling that you needed help. Except that they heard your giggles as Max put you back on your feet.

“I was just kidding.”

The trio huffed.

Logan murmured, “That was not funny.”

Charles snorted. “Oh but it was. Should have seen your faces.”

Your giggled died out before you asked, “Are we ready to go? I think I’ll melt if I stand out here for any longer.”

Lando flicked your forehead. “We were just waiting on you.”

The four of you said your goodbyes to Max and Charles before heading to the parking lot. Somehow, Logan got his hands on a Jeep to take the four of you somewhere. And, he was even able to get the top off. And because he claimed it was an all American brand, Logan begged Lando to let him drive it. Lando reluctantly handed over the keys.

You claimed earlier that you needed shotgun, because “men can’t be passenger princesses.” Oscar and Lando tried to disagree.

The breeze from outside in addition to the cool air-conditioning from the car was perfect. You let everyone have their turn with the aux, praying that they wouldn’t pick anything too embarrassing.

Oscar ripped the phone out of your hands when Logan tried to request Free Bird again.

The Aussie sighed as the American whined.

“We are not having another shirt ripped or a speeding ticket.”

You laughed as Logan tried to hit Oscar in the back. At an empty road, Lando grabbed his camera.

“Bug, put your head out the window real fast.”

You did as suggested and smiled toward the camera that Lando was holding.

Immediately you had a sense of déjà vu. Except this time, it was actual friends in the car and not just your manager. You thought back to how far you’ve come since the night before going to Milton.

Lando laughed as he looked at the camera.

He spoke, “This reminds me about the time that me and my friends were driving around and then this car pulled up next to ours. They were blasting What Makes You Beautiful and there was this girl in the front seat.”

Your cheeks were becoming warm as Lando kept telling the story: that was definitely about you. Lando kept blabbing about the night.

“And then the next morning, I got out of my hotel elevator and I think the same girl literally bulldozed me over. Didn’t say sorry or anything. I just thought it was funny, she seemed like she was in a rush.”

Logan was laughing at the story, but got concerned at your flushed appearance and sudden quietness.

“You alright champ? Do we need to get you some more water?”

At the sound of the question, Lando and Oscar were leaning up, trying to look to see if you were going to actually pass out. Lando was already on his phone, trying to bring up Max’s contact to call just in case.

However, you started laughing, making the trio at ease. You tried to cover your giggles with your mouth. You had this bright look in your eyes.

“That was actually me Lando. Sorry about that.”

Lando’s jaw dropped at the reveal.

You gave a half shrug. “Arthur was waiting for me in my hotel room and I was excited to see him.”

Logan’s and Oscar’s shoulders were shaking as they kept laughing at Lando’s facial expressions. The Brit huffed and crossed his arms, mouth formed into a pout.

“You owe me a race win now.”

“Excuse you?”

“You heard me.”

“Uh, guys?” Logan asked, but you and Lando ignored him.

“Get your own race win. You’ve done it before.”

“Cause Max crashed out.”

“That’s not true.”

“Guys?” Oscar’s voice also sounded, worry in his tone.

“Lando, it’s really not that hard. You just go around him.”

“It’s a tractor versus a rocket ship. One cannot simply just go around.”

“GUYS!”

“What?” you and Lando yelled at the same time. Once the car was silent, you finally noticed that it had stopped moving.

“Logan why aren’t you driving?”

You looked at the American, who was slightly shaking while looking in the rearview mirror. Your eyes glanced at it, blue and red lights reflecting through the glass. You looked behind you and saw the source.

“Ah shit.”

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 Alexa, play free bird by lynard skynard

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, redbullrocket, and 725,028 others

box_box_express oh thank goodness she's out

y/n.nation you think she jailbreaked?

georgerussell63 good to see that I don't need to pull up any power point presentations on why you four shouldn't go to jail

y/n.89 good to know that you have one ready? landonorris you think that we'd actually get arrested?? logansargeant oh yee of little faith oscarpiastri it was already ready???????

change_ur_f-car BAHAHAHAHAH I'M DEAD - ARRESTED RACE CAR DRIVERS FOR BEING IN A CAR

formulalala_delulu this whole race/day was a fever dream

christianhorner good to see you not in cuffs kid

y/n.89 good to not be in cuffs maxverstappen1 rookie arrest before I was y/n.89 HA I BEAT MAX VERSTAPPEN IN EQUAL MACHINERY landonorris oh that's not...ok

lestappenlove your honor I love them

Race Results

Max Verstappen - 25 points

Charles Leclerc - 18 points

Y/n L/n - 16 points (fastest lap)

Carlos Sainz - 12 points

Oscar Piastri - 10 points

Alex Albon - 8 points

Lando Norris - 6 points

Logan Sargeant - 4 points

Pierre Galsy - 2 points

Daniel Ricciardo - 1 point

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen - 334 points

Charles Leclerc - 304 points

Y/n L/n - 223 points

Lando Norris - 196 points

Carlos Sainz - 157 points

Oscar Piastri - 140 points

Lewis Hamilton - 113 points

Alex Albon - 70 points

George Russell - 65 points

Fernando Alonso - 45 points

Logan Sargeant - 44 points

Daniel Ricciardo - 26 points

Lance Stroll - 17 points

Pierre Gasly - 14 points

Valtteri Bottas - 13 points

Yuki Tusnuoda - 9 points

Zhou Guanyu - 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull - 557 points

Ferrari - 461 points

McLaren - 336 points

Mercedes - 178 points

Williams - 114 points

Aston Martin - 62 points

Alpha Tauri - 35 point

Alpha Romeo - 14 points

Alpine - 14 points

Haas - 0 points

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @fly-me-away @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @33-81 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

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saintescuderia · 3 months

Text

pancakes (pt. 1)

welcome a new multi-chapter fic. enjoy.

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 :)

P1 - bulgarian split squats

Really, the only way to survive Formula 1 was by going to the gym.

The gym addiction was something that had existed long before joining the circus of a motorsports paddock filled with politics and rumours, as well as the slim fitting uniforms that always seemed to be accompanied by, in your opinion, ugly ass shoes.

Sure, Puma was the offical sponsor but couldn’t they get anything other than the Speedcat? And what even was that name? Speedcat? It was on brand, sure, but at what cost? Really? If Formula 1 was trying to grow its popularity they could honestly start with their dress code. Seeing Christian Horner in Skechers really took the intimidation out of him when you served him his double espresso during the Spanish Grand Prix that one time last season.

One of the perks of working in Hospitality - and there were very few far and in between - was that uniform was not so strict. F1 Hospitality only required an all black service with ‘comfortable shoes.’ This you took for interpretation. Dunks. Jordan 4s. Maybe 1s. Never 13s. Forces were good for a night race - that usually meant more stairs - and Vans were what you reached for in the morning when you knew you’d be working the barista shift. Converse were for ‘throw away’ races.

These were the races where you knew the shoe-care was not important. For example, Silverstone with its torrential UK drinkers who were likely to throw up on your beloved sneakers. Alas, you had learned the hard way when you almost lost your job by rushing to the kitchen to start scrubbing the vomit off your blue and red Cortez during peak lunch.

Never again.

Admittedly, you did try to keep at least one pair of Converse in good care since they were the renowned shoe come leg day.

Another perk of working in F1 Hospitality was that every circuit’s map layout had been drilled into your head. Meaning you always knew exactly where the communal driver’s gym was located at and could therefore get your daily dose of dopamine before dealing with… well, everything.

You silenced the shrill horror that came from the iPhone alarm. 4:00 read the lockscreen, the light shining brightly into your face. It didn’t help that your wallpaper had a photo with a clear blue sky, making the light even harsher in the darkness. You could’ve very well changed it and avoid the pain you routinely go through every morning. But it was this very photo that reminded you why you were getting up in four in the morning in the first place.

You had snapped it during a free practice in Italy that had miraculously lined up with a break in your shift. The sky was clear and the red car was small, but clear on the circuit. Ferrari, of course. You still remember the buzz that circled around the paddock staff that day. No matter who you routed for or whatever bias you had, there was a unanimously acknowledgement that Ferrari winning at Monza was special. He was special.

Then again, you’ve known that long before he stood on that podium in Italy and was given his infamous nickname.

It didn’t even take you ten minutes until you were out the door. Your gym clothes (pump cover included!) were on the one limpy chair that decorated your poor little hotel room, your shaker sat on top of your gym bag with you black high top Converse right beside it. By the time you had made it to the gym, it was a little past 4:15 and you had already scooped in pre-workout into your mouth ready to get through the oncoming pain.

Your hips were a little tight, as per normal. The left side even more so. The hood of your hoodie was up, headphones on and blasting the hardstyle house music that would see you through the next two hours. You went through your usual stretches but with today’s added focus on the lower body.

And then you went about destroying your legs.

It was about an hour or so that Oscar finally sleepily arrived. You weren’t actually sure what time it was but you were up to doing bulgarian split squats - and hating life - and that was usually at the hour mark. You gave him a curious once over, noting the odd choice of clothing. It was a little odd to see a driver in the paddock wearing athleisure that wasn’t their team uniform.

“Bro, it’s five in the morning.” Oscar groaned, shuffling over to come and sit on the bench next to you. You gave another three more reps - Oscar silently watching you groan in pain through the last two - and then finally dropped the dumbbells. You reached over to take a sip of water and checked the phone for the time.

“It’s five thirteen in the morning.” You corrected. It had been just about the hour mark. “Are we training today or?” It wasn’t the first time Oscar had joined you. The reason his neck was getting stronger was because of you. In your opinion, the trainer Alpine had assigned Oscar was a fucking idiot.

“You’re doing legs.” Oscar pointed out, as if that was enough of an answer. He leaned to lay back down on the bench and stared up as he continued to speak. “Drivers don’t need bulky legs. We’ve been over this.”

You had. Many times. You knew he was right. It still would be nice to have someone to go through legs with you, though.

“So train with light weights.” You offered, trying. Oscar just gave you a look that made it clear he was not picking up any type of weights. You shrugged, not deterred. “I’ll do calisthenics with you. Or we can work on plyometrics.” Oscar’s response was to close his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Fuck it man, do some cardio.” You came to the last resort, coming to kick his legs as you walked past to load up the smith machine with some different plates.

“Piss off Tezza.” The Australian-ness continuing to shine through with the nickname that Oscar had specifically designed for you in respect of your shared citizenship to the ‘land down under.’

Except unlike the blond caucasian boy who loved AFL, grew up in Brighton East and attended Haileybury, your Australian-ness was less obvious. Your accent, for one, wasn’t as prominent since your parents were African immigrants. This, of course, didn’t just influence your speech patterns and accent.

Dark skin, dark eyes and dark hair, you weren't exactly the picture of a 'true blue Aussie.' The rite of public school bullying from those who did look 'Australian' (whatever that meant) had you scoffing at vegemite and preferring to follow EPL and La Liga than whatever the fuck was Aussie Rules Football.

Why is it called football if the players pick up the ball?

Still, when a homesick Oscar Piastri overheard one of the Hospitality staff yell out that that they were going for a 'Macca’s run' between the practice sessions on his very first F1 race weekend, he instantly picked up on the Australian-ism. And he didn’t let it go. And cue the beginning of a friendship that had Oscar Piastri calling you ‘bro’ and shortening your last name as per Australian rite.

Even if you had sworn off that sort of thing.

“Oscar, man, if you ain’t here to train then why are you?” You said, locking the plates in place on the smith machine. You lifted up your hood up and ducked under the bar to rest the metal against you shoulders, the hood acting as a cushion. The starting weight was light enough that you wouldn't have to worry about music for your first set. Besides, if Oscar was here, he could be the entertainment for this set. “You forget that this is a driver’s only gym. You could get in trouble." The sarcasm was all too clear in your voice.

No one used the ‘drivers-only’ gym. It was something that every Grand Prix had set up. Mobile, communal and high-end, it had enough equipment to rival the local 24/7 studio franchise gym that seemed to exist in every neighbourhood. Despite the fact that every driver preferred to train at their own motorhome gym - or that every team had their own mobile gym set up in conjunction to the motorhome - F1 still went about packing up and moving their own studio gym to every single location come race weekend.

If anything, it was a nice stop during the presentation walk during the sponsorship lunches where good old Stefano Domenicali would show off all the amazing resources that the Grand Prix space has to offer.

So, no. F1’s Driver Gym was not used.

The only reason it wasn’t gathering dust was because every weekend it was packed up and moved. That and you woke up at 4am every weekend to destroy your muscles in the familiar red and black equipment.

"You're here." Oscar reminded you. "And not a driver."

You ignored him and just kept up with your repetitions, focusing on engaging your glutes and keeping your core tight. Oscar was silent as you finished your first set. When you finished your last rep, he stood up and came round as you locked the machine. He knew you well enough to pick up the 10kg and help add it to the sides.

"Thanks." You said. Oscar nodded and added the weight to the other side. There was a quiet air for a moment and you went to pick up your headphones to put them back on. Things were getting heavier and you would need music to get through the next few sets.

“I might be leaving Alpine.”

You looked up at Oscar who dropped the bomb and then looked back at your headphones. You sighed and then dropped the headphones back to land in your gym bag. Headphoneless, you went back to the machine and Oscar took your invitation.

“Zak Brown approached me yesterday and suggested something about picking me up for next year.” Oscar said.

You just kept squatting. Oscar was far too removed to yet be aware of - well, everything.

“And with talk of Fernando quitting, I know that Alpine will be calling me up but do I trust that? Honestly Lando has been doing so well and Ocon has always pissed me off.” Oscar watched as you started to struggle.

He stood up and came around to help you but you just shook you head. You pushed through one more rep and then called it.

“He does have a punchable face.” You said, now out of breath. Esteban had always annoyed you and before meeting Oscar, you used to dread the weekends where you were put on Alpine.

Your friend handed you the water bottle sat beside your gym bag before you could even ask. You gave a two finger salute in thanks as he continued on.

“And Lily and I got into this massive fight again! Apparently I don’t communicate enough!” He huffed. “But I sent her flowers and chocolates because she’s going through finals and she likes daisies and Cadbury."

“Yeah, but is that her love language though?” You asked, dropping your bottle and going to stack up the final set of weights on the smith machine. Oscar stood up again to help you.

“Her what?” He asked, handing you the plate.

“Love language.” You answered, still panting, and explained, “You’ve got physical touch, gift giving, quality time, words of affirmation and acts of service.”

“Are you saying people love in specific ways?" Oscar asked, quick to process new information as always.

“Exactly. You did something nice for her, an act of service. Maybe all she wants is a nice, long phone call or maybe some texts complimenting her or something.” You shrugged and then brought up your headphones.

Oscar accepted this, knowing the last set would require music.

He watched you as you settled back under the smith machine bar and went on squatting more than his body weight. He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. He really shouldn't have been surprised at your lack of surprise. Little shocked you. That or your might’ve already known and just kept it to yourself. F1 Hospitality were a part of the Formula One Group and, therefore, were not associated to any one team. They had rotations across all teams and, therefore, every member of staff were required to sign an NDA. Not that ever did anything in this damn place.

Still, Oscar knew that you were one of the few genuine people left in this place.

He knew that there would’ve been so many opportunities where you could’ve easily done something for yourself by recounting something you had overheard while pouring Toto Wolff his coffee or serving Mattia Binotto his lunch. It was the reason why so many teams hired their own internal hospo staff.

It was also the reason why Oscar felt comfortable coming to tell you about Alpine and McLaren before he had even told his own parents, or Lily. The argument with his girlfriend had prevented him from getting any sleep, mulling it over in his mind for hours. Oscar knew you would be able to help him through it all.

And that you would be the only one awake at this godforsaken hour.

By the time you had finished your first set, he was Googling love languages and having a quick read through.

By the time you had finished your second set, he was halfway through doing the love languages quiz.

By the time you had finished your third and final set, he was seeing what the problem was between him and Lily.

“I think Lily is words of affirmation and I'm acts of service." He said, coming up to the machine as you stepped back and pulled down your headphones. You blinked and nodded, still put of breath. "I think I forgot to check in with her and send her some compliments. Tell her I'm proud of her for getting through exams. Especially because she never is one for gifts, really."

You held out your hand to him. "There you go. Growth."

"I don't know what to do about Alpine."

"Call a lawyer."

Oscar pursed his lips and then considered this. That wouldn't be his first move but thinking about it, it was probably for the best. "That's actually a good idea."

"Isn't that why you're here?" You retorted. "Since you're not here to train. Speaking of which, the fuck is that?"

“What?” He asked and realised you were looking at his feet.

“Zak Brown isn’t going to hire you if he finds out that you’re wearing fucking thongs with socks.” You said, finally recognising the flip-flops he wore with some white socks that really needed to be washed.

“You’ve been a great help, thanks.” Oscar smiled. You rolled your eyes and went to your gym bag. Pulling out a pair of white Adidas Sambas, you tossed them to Oscar.

“Put these on.”

“Is my footwear really that offensive to you?”

“We’ll go run the track.” You said then gestured to all of him. “It’ll help you burn all of this off.”

Oscar sighed and did as he was told. He laced up the shoes you'd given him that surprisingly fit his large feet and followed you out to the track. He used his pass to get through since a driver running the track at 5:30 in the morning would just be seen as the dedication to the grind. A Hospitality staff member would just be accused of breaking in.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re going through a crisis. I’ve always wanted to do a morning run on the track.” You said with a grin as the pair of you came to the starting line that, in a matter of hours, would be full of mechanics, engineers, reporters, camera crew members and, of course, drivers.

“If I get a seat at McLaren, you can be my trainer.” Oscar said as you both started warming up into a light jog.

"Ha." You snorted. "As if you could afford me, bro."

next ch [2] >