Chapter Text
As far as first days in a new job go, Esteban is reasonably sure this one couldn’t be any worse. And it’s not even 9 am.
Not that he’s had a first day in a proper, grown-up, real-world, full-time job before this. Newly graduated from Sorbonne University in Paris with a Masters of Political Science, he hadn’t expected to land a position so soon, and certainly not with such a prestigious organization. So Esteban believes he can be forgiven for assuming his good luck would continue.
The move itself over to London had been stressful, but he'd managed to secure a furnished flat to rent while based in a whole other country. He'd immediately loved the little studio in Arnos Grove; it was bright with natural light, overlooked a beautiful green park and was only a 15 minute walk to the tube station that took him directly to Piccadilly Circus within half an hour. From there his new workplace is, according to Google maps, just around the corner.
Esteban had been so sure, when he’d gotten up that morning of his first day, that everything was going to be perfect. So far things had fallen so easily into place that he really didn't suspect his actual start to full-time working life would be any different. But after just an hour he's willing to admit that he's paying the price for his run of good luck and clear naivety.
Seriously, fuck Murphy's Law.
It starts when he misses his train. As he comes clattering down to the underground platform in his new, too-stiff work shoes that are already blistering his heels, he's just in time to see it disappearing off down the tunnel. It's another ten minutes until the next train comes, and the wait would have been bearable had he not then spilled his coffee all over his trousers. His travel mug hasn’t survived the move after all, apparently, if the crack around the brim he’s only noticing now that coffee is dripping down his hand is any indication.
Huffing as he takes a seat on a metal bench to wait for the next train, Esteban drains the dregs of his coffee and throws the broken cup in the bin, then peers down at the damage to his trousers. Luckily they're black and the stain won’t show, because they are his only suitable work pair and he doesn’t have time to go home and change, nor does he have anything on hand to clean himself up with.
40 minutes later, by the time he’s navigated the streets of central London to his new building – after getting lost turning the wrong way out of the Piccadilly Circus station – Esteban’s so sweaty that the gel in his hair is melting onto his forehead, and he rather prominently reeks of coffee.
F1 Ltd occupies a massive office block. Esteban is supposed to be meeting Sebastian, his new boss and the director of the policy and regulatory team, at the reception on the top floor at 8:30 am. He squawks out a wail when he checks the time on his phone as he ducks through the lobby doors and sees he’s ten minutes late.
The ground-floor receptionist eyes him with raised brows as he makes a mad dash across the marble floor to the bank of elevators on the far wall, perhaps wondering who the stranger running past her is. He doesn’t feel he has the time to introduce himself though, just jabs at the nearest ‘up’ button that he can see on the closest panel. As he stands waiting and bouncing on his toes he feels someone coming to linger just behind him, and he offers the guy a tense smile of thanks over his shoulder when he gestures for Esteban to precede him into the elevator upon its arrival.
Nervous and beyond stressed that things are going so poorly, Esteban presses the button for the top floor and tucks himself back into a corner of the elevator, used to trying not to take up too much space with his long frame. The guy joins him inside, and Esteban notes belatedly that he’s older and ruggedly handsome, as he glances at the elevator panel but doesn’t select any other button.
So they’re going to the same floor? Interesting, but Esteban is too preoccupied by his anxiety to really appreciate the potential possibility of working in close quarters with someone so attractive.
When the elevator reaches the top floor the hot stranger again waves for Esteban to get out first, going so far as to turn and look over his shoulder at him as he steps aside to make room, even though he’s closer to the doors.
“Thank you,” Esteban murmurs, his nerves making his voice embarrassingly squeaky. He shuffles past the guy and up to the receptionist’s desk. A pretty, blonde-haired woman smiles welcomingly at him, and he smiles back at her, willing his voice not to shake again.
“Hi, I’m a little late, but it’s my first day and I was supposed to meet with Sebastian Vettel at 8:30?”
“Good morning!” she beams even wider, her whole face lighting up. “Esteban?”
“Yes!” he gasps out, relieved that she is expecting him and he hasn’t somehow gotten the building or the floor wrong, on top of everything else that's gone crazily bad so far.
“I’ll just call Seb. Don’t panic about being late. He was happily waiting and telling me all about the sunflowers he's growing on his patio, then Lewis arrived and he got distracted bugging him about the worm farm he wants to have installed on the roof here...” as she speaks she taps away at the Bluetooth headset on her ear, then smiles again as she raises a finger at him, silently telling him to wait.
Esteban takes the opportunity to look around the reception area, which is painted a generic beige-grey, and spots the company’s logo displayed in red neon lighting on the wall. The good-looking man from the elevator has long since disappeared.
He jumps a little when a set of doors on the left of the reception are thrown open and Sebastian strolls through, already grinning a mile wide. His aura is just as relaxing and friendly as it had been during Esteban’s Zoom interview a month prior.
“Esteban!” Sebastian looks so excited, his hand already reaching out to grasp Esteban’s. “I’m so happy to meet you at last!”
“It’s wonderful to be here, Mr. Vettel, thank you,” Esteban tells him. He weirdly feels the urge to bow, for some reason.
“Charlotte! This is Esteban!” Sebastian tells the receptionist happily, and she smiles indulgently at them both.
“I know, Seb. Welcome, Esteban. If you need anything you just let me know.”
Sebastian starts rattling off Charlotte’s virtues, of which there are many, as he leads Esteban back through the doors and into the office proper. The space is a large floor divided up into meeting areas, with smaller break-out rooms interspersed by pods of desks, and a scattering of private offices around the outer edges. Sebastian’s still babbling away, Esteban struggling to parse and translate the words he’s not sure of, when they come to a space tucked into the far left corner.
Floor to ceiling windows offer a view of the city, and there's a corner office that must be Sebastian's. Under the windows are two desks in an L shape. A young, blonde man is the only person present. As he looks up from his monitor and smiles in greeting at Esteban, Sebastian switches seamlessly from chattering about Charlotte to effusing over the guy, who’s name Esteban thinks he hears is Mick. When Seb pauses to draw breath from ranting praise about Mick's ability to handle pressure, the young man spots a gap in which to get a word in.
“Seb! Nico was looking for you. Something about wanting your signature on a document so he doesn’t have to go get Lewis’?”
“Oh,” Seb huffs and rolls his eyes. “He’s just too scared to go into Lewis’ office alone because they're having another fight, meaning they'll probably argue and then have sex again. I’ll escort him. Might take some water so I can spray them down if I have to...”
He ducks into his office and comes out again holding a metal water bottle, as Mick beams and gestures for Esteban to take the empty desk by his.
“Seb can get a bit... distracted. Oh, and he’s always late to everything. But he’s the nicest, most supportive boss you could ask for. Now, let’s get you an access pass so you can actually get around the place!”
“Won’t make it far without that,” Esteban jokes. He feels overwhelmed, excited, nervous and belatedly notes that he still stinks of coffee.
Mick shows him around properly, pointing out that the bathrooms and tea room for their floor are on the opposite side of Charlotte's reception from the actual office, then walking Esteban properly through the floor. Most of what he shows Esteban – the meeting room where they have whole staff meetings on Friday mornings and Sebastian’s favourite break-out room – washes straight over his head, because he’s too overloaded with information to really take it in.
He does notice that they spend what seems to be an inordinate amount of time talking to Alex from the tech and innovation team, but Esteban decides not to point out that a simple introduction didn’t really need to take fifteen minutes. He’d seen the way Alex’s face had lit up when he’d spotted Mick coming towards his pod, and Mick had grinned at the other man in a way that was far too happy for a Monday morning, so Esteban kept hold of his tongue.
Overall, it’s pretty basic and introductory. Esteban takes breaks and eats lunch at the same time as Mick and Seb, spending most of his day doing online training modules and filling his desk with stationary from the supply cupboard. He keeps an absent eye out for the hot guy from the elevator, but never once spots him amongst the clusters of his fellow employees.
Seb seems to have spent most of his day with his feet up on his desk as he chatted over Zoom to Lewis, the community and outreach Director, despite the fact that their offices are only about 50 metres apart. He still wanders out yawning at 4 pm despite having seemingly done very little, and invites Esteban and Mick for a drink.
Mick agrees, but although Esteban thanks him he decides to decline. He’s so shattered that just a whiff of alcohol feels like it would make him drunk, and he doesn’t want to make a bad impression so early i.
“Feel free to head home then,” Seb offers, his lip curling in distaste as he peers over Esteban’s shoulder at the training module on web security he’s trying to get through. “God those things are so stupid. Look, just don’t do dumb things. There, now you are trained. Home time.”
Esteban laughs as he shuts down his computer, packs up his bag and tidies the slight scattering of things on his desk. Mick waves him goodbye, not looking like he’s ready to leave himself any time soon, even though Seb is whining at him to hurry up and fiddling with various implements on his desk.
To his delight, Esteban finally sees the hot guy from this morning as they both leave the building. The guy is already walking across the lobby ahead of Esteban when he steps out of the elevator, talking into a cellphone. Esteban wanders along behind him, not wanting to catch up too soon even though his long gait makes his delay awkward. He’s drained, his capacity for small talk and tolerance for social interaction feeling completely depleted. He can’t shake any more hands, try to remember any more names or fail to comprehend what everyone’s role actually means. Seriously, what the Hell is a ‘data coach’?
Just spotting the guy again, confirming that he didn’t make him up inside his head, is enough to make Esteban feel weirdly pleased. Once the older man scurries off out the front doors, Esteban dawdles from the building and towards the tube, content to go at his own pace for the first time all day.