Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

First Date 

“Hey you. I know I just dropped you off and you’re probably not back up to your apartment yet but I just wanted to tell you that I had the best time tonight…” 

Lando winces at how lame that sounds, dragging in a breath before letting it loose. 

“I’ve never been axe throwing on a first date before but uh…I’m glad you still have all ten fingers.” He laughs softly, shaking his head. “Anyway. I know I said it already, like…5 times but I had a really fun night. Like, best first date ever. So, I was hoping that maybe we could do it again. Soon? Yeah…soon.” 

He pauses, the butterflies in his stomach taking flight at the thought of seeing you again.

“I’m in town for another week before the next race. Maybe tomorrow? Too soon? I don’t know, I just can’t get you off my mind and I’ve just dropped you off.” 

Shit. He was down bad, wasn’t he? 

“Text me?” 

Another pause. 

“Okay. Bye.” 

Click. 

First Kiss

“Hi. Um. So, that just happened, didn’t it?” His voice is breathless, like he just ran up several flights of stairs before hitting your contact in his phone. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw you in the book store. I nearly chickened out that day, nearly walked right past the shop window but…” 

Lando shakes his head, smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Fuck, I am so glad I didn’t. Because that was the best first kiss I’ve ever had. And then you gave me the best second kiss. And third…”  

The words hang in the air, silence stretching out as he grins stupidly out at the London traffic in front of him. 

“Okay. Anyway. I just wanted to make sure you knew how much I can’t wait to kiss you again. Bye.” 

Click.

When You Make It Official 

“Hi baby. I uh…just needed to say goodnight to my girlfriend one more time.” 

Lando giggles. 

Giggles. 

“So…you’re my girlfriend now, huh?” You can almost hear the smile slide across his face in the way he sounds. “Jesus, I was so nervous. Felt like I was 15 years old again. I’m so glad you said yes. Never a doubt in my mind…” 

He snorts, rolling his eyes. 

You both know that’s a lie. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Spain so early tomorrow. Fucking media duties. Do you think maybe you could get Friday off? I want you by my side this weekend. I’m going to buy you a ticket as soon as I get back to my flat, okay? Okay. Bye.” 

Click. 

When He Wins

“Fuck. I didn’t even check to see what time it was back home. I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.” A pause. “Probably not because you didn’t answer. That’s good.” 

Lando sounds flustered. Like he can’t quite gather his thoughts into a coherent string. 

“I won!” 

Laughter. 

“I won and the first thing I thought when I saw that checkered flag was ’God, I wish she was here to see this.’ I hate being on opposite sides of the world from you. I haven’t heard your voice all fucking day. Is that pathetic? How much I love hearing your voice? You know what? I don’t care. Hearing you say my name is my favorite sound. Sue me.” 

Someone shouts Lando’s name off in the distance, just loud enough for you to hear. They tell him it’s time to celebrate and take a team photo. His response is muffled and then louder, directed back at your voicemail. 

“I wish you were here. I need you here for my next win, okay? Promise me? Okay, call me when you get up, I don’t care what time it is.” 

A pause. Almost like there’s something else he wants to say. Something heavier. 

“Okay. G’night.” 

Click. 

When He Misses You

“Hi, baby.” He coos, voice tired. Sheets rustle in the background and he’s silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier. You’re probably out with the girls now, yeah? I hope you’re having a good time.” 

Silverware clinks in the background. The hiss of a can opening. 

“It’s been…fourteen days, six hours, and twenty-nine minutes since I kissed you and it’s really fucking annoying. I miss you so much. Triple headers suck. Can you come to Brazil next week? I’ll fly you out here. Please?” 

A sigh that borders on a groan. 

“I really fucking miss you.”

Deep breath. 

“Okay. I hope you’re having fun. Call me when you get in, no matter what time it is, okay?” 

Click. 

When He Realizes He Loves You

“Hi.” 

It’s a breathless whisper. 

“I uhhhh…”  

Lando scrubs his hand over his face as he walks down the sidewalk. 

“I know it hasn’t been very long and fuck, I hope this doesn’t scare you off. I probably shouldn’t be doing this on voicemail. I was going to say it when I kissed you goodnight but I lost my nerve.” 

His feet whisper over the pavement, filling the silence. 

“IThinkImFallingInLoveWithYou.” 

The words are quick. Jumbled. And then he’s muttering something under his breath. 

“No. Wait. Fuck. Not think. Baby, I know I’m in love with you.”  

Silence. 

“I’m so head over heels in love with you I can’t even think straight.” 

His footfalls get louder, as if he’s running. 

“And I’m a fucking idiot for not saying it to your face. I’ll be at your door in thirty seconds…”  

Click. 

When He Gets Down On One Knee

“I can’t believe you actually said yes.” 

Lando huffs a laugh. 

“I thought I blew it, when you didn’t say anything after I asked. I genuinely thought you were about to turn me down. Scariest ten seconds of my life. And then you were crying and yelling and hugging me…The poor cat was terrified.”  

The Ferrari’s engine purrs to life in the background. 

“I just ran out to get some champagne for us but I wanted to hear your voice. I can’t believe I get to marry you. Holy fuck, you’re going to be my wife.”

A beat.

“I’m going to be your husband.”  

He sounds overwhelmed. Like he can’t quite wrap his mind around the sentence. 

“I’m so glad I went into that bookstore that day…I love you so much. I can’t wait to call you Mrs. Norris.” 

Click.  

The Night Before You Marry Him

“I don’t know how you’re asleep right now. I feel like I’m going to vibrate right out of my skin.” 

The sheets rustle softly in the background. 

“You looked so pretty tonight in that dress. Every time I looked at you, I thought my heart was going to explode. I can’t ever get enough of seeing you with my ring on your finger. The wedding band I put on you tomorrow is going to look so fucking good next to it.” 

Lando draws in a deep breath, settling deeper in the sheets. 

“It’s weird sleeping without you. These traditions are stupid.” 

You can hear the pout on his face. 

“What am I going to do without your ice cold feet to jolt me awake at 3 in the morning?” 

A laugh. 

“I still can’t believe I got you to agree to marry me. I’m the luckiest guy on this planet, you know that? I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” 

A pause. 

“Can we have babies soon?” 

Another pause. Longer now. 

“I can’t wait for you to have my babies. Lets get to work on that tomorrow night.” 

He says it like it’s final. Like he’s been waiting to say that to you for as long as he’s known you. 

“Okay. Love you, soon-to-be wife. Bye.” 

Click. 

Chapter Text

Your First Date 

“Hi.” He clears his throat. 

“Its Max.” Pause.

“Verstappen.” 

Well. This was going splendidly. 

He chuckles. “You probably know that though, right? I didn’t quite plan this out.” 

He shakes his head. Whispers: clearly not you idiot. 

“Um. So. I just wanted to say thank you. For tonight. I mean, I planned everything and paid for it  all so I’m not thanking you for that…” Max winces. 

“Just…for being you. I don’t think I’ve ever had a first date like that. It felt like we talked for hours, which I guess we did, didn’t we?” 

He laughs again and you can almost see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles at you. 

He hums “I liked it. I like you. When can I see you again? You said there was that Degas exhibit at the Louvre you’ve been wanting to see. We could go tomorrow? I’ll have Frank file flight plans first thing tomorrow morning.” 

Oh he was in so much trouble. 

“Okay. Bye.” 

Click. 

THE First Kiss 

“Hi.” Max is breathless, in awe of what just happened. 

“I know I just left but I can’t stop replaying that kiss in my head. I almost walked into a light pole your lips had me so distracted.” He shakes his head, head swiveling back to look at the offending pole. That would have been a fun black eye to explain.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for...” 

He pauses, like he’s remembering the first time he ever imagined pressing his lips to yours.

“God. For the longest time. Since I saw you that first night at that dinner party.” 

Mutual friends he’d have to thank tomorrow morning for giving him what felt like a turning point in his life.

“You had the same lipstick on tonight and I just…had to know how your lips tasted.” 

It had been slow, dripping through your closely pressed skin, sticky-sweet as honey. Max would never forget it for as long as he had breath in his lungs.

“You’ve ruined me, schat.” He accuses but there’s no fire in the words. No real accusations, just statement of facts. “Ruined.”

He shakes his head again, reaching for the car key in his pocket.

“Can we do it again tomorrow? And the next day?”

And forever?

He leaves that part out. For now. 

Click. 

He Wonders If He's Worth It   

“Are you…sure?” He’s anxious, you can tell by the way he breathes on the other end of the line.

“I just wanted to ask again because I can’t quite believe I got you to agree to be my girlfriend” His laugh is anything but humorous. It’s dry. Brittle. 

“Being with me is a lot. I know it’s a lot and it’s a lot to ask of someone.” He thinks he might be able to let you go now if you walked away. He’s scared you’re going to. 

“If you don’t want to be involved with me, I’d understand.” 

The fear of losing you grips at him like ice. You can hear it in his voice and your heart shatters because he doesn’t realize how badly you’re falling for him too. 

“It’s just…I feel like I can breathe around you. I don’t have to wear a mask or be Max Verstappen, 4 time world champion. I can just be Max.” 

A pause. As if he’s gathering the courage to choke out the last words on the tip of his tongue.

“Your Max. If you’ll have me.” 

The last bit is whispered, like he doesn’t want the world to hear how weak he is for you. How easily he’d follow you anywhere. 

“Okay. Bye.” 

Click. 

He Wins The Championship

“Baby!!!” He shouts, laughter filling every corner of his voice. 

“We won! The championship they said I couldn’t win!” Around him, champagne drips and gin flows.

“Where’d you go? I just saw you and then you vanished!!” 

You had told him ten seconds before he had pulled out his phone to call you. A trip to the Ladies Room was required and he knew that. But the 5^th gin and tonic robbed him of his memory. 

“Can you believe I’m a FIVE TIME world champion?” Max’s shouts turn watery, like the emotion is hitting him like a freight train. 

“I’m so glad you were here to be with me. I never want to win without you ever again.” 

He’s getting sentimental. It used to be a rarity with him, the Flying Dutchman trained up to be a champion by Jos. But now? Now he was soft. So soft. But only for you. Always for you. 

“I miss you.” He pouts. 

The music thumps in the background, causing Max’s head to spin. 

And then, you. Across the room, returning from your trek to the restroom. He spots you and his entire face brightens. 

“There you are!” He coos into his phone. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. Did you know that? You’re so fucking beautiful and I can’t wait to marry you.” 

He doesn’t realize the weight of the words falling from his lips. But he means every syllable. 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now because I want to go make out with you. Bye.” 

Click. 

The Fight

“Liefje, please.” Max is panicking. 

“It’s the middle of the night and it’s raining. It’s not safe for you to be out right now, I don’t care how mad at me you are.”

It had been stupid, the fight. It had spun out of control too quickly, whipped up out of thin air thanks to too many nights on the road and too little time spent together.  

“Please, for the love of God come back to me.” The tears fall freely now, he’s never seen you this angry. 

He’d neglected you, gambled away the love that you so freely give him without complaint. And now you had walked right out as easily as if you were going to the store. It was just another day to you.  

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I’ve never raised my voice at you ever, I don’t know what came over me. I…” He shatters around the words. 

“I don’t even know why I was angry anymore.” It was the truth. He didn’t know why he had snapped, why he exchanged soft whispers for barbed shouts, sharp around the edges, filling his mouth with glass. 

“We’ve never fought like this and now your car is gone and it’s one in the morning.” He’s desperate now, breaths coming quick and shallow. 

His vision blurs. Is this what it feels like when you die? 

“Please, baby. I don’t care if you’re still mad at me, you can be mad at me for the rest of your life but I need you to be safe.” The thought of anything happening to you because of his stupid anger had Max swaying beneath the lights of the living room. 

“Please.” 

He begs. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He sobs. 

Click.  

You’re Pregnant 

“Liefje. My Wife. Love of my life. I am concerned.” Max sounds slightly scared to be making this phone call. 

“These requests…” He squints at the handwritten list you left for him on the back of an envelope. “Grape jam, not jelly? Pickles? Pistacio ice cream with chocolate ribbons?” 

This list had to be a joke. 

“Are you filming me? Is this going on TikTok?”  He glances around at the store, half expecting to see you hiding in a corner with your phone out. 

What the fuck was a ‘chocolate ribbon’ anyway? 

“Pebble ice? Baby, should we call your doctor in the morning?” 

He knew he was asking for trouble, calling into question the validity of your pregnancy cravings but Max was getting concerned. He’d even called his sister on the way to the store. Victoria had insisted it was normal. 

Max wasn’t convinced. 

“I love you, you are the love of my life and I’d do anything for you, you know that. I just don’t know if I can purchase pickles and ice cream knowing that they’re going to be consumed together.” 

An image of what your pan you might choose to swing at his head if he came back without everything on your list flashes through his mind. 

Max pulled every jar of grape jam off the shelf. 

“I’ll be home in 10.” 

Click. 

You’re in labor 

“Your sister called!” Max’s voice is panicked, out of breath. “She said you’re in labor but didn’t want to bother me in my meeting!” 

“Your contractions are 5 minutes apart and you didn’t think you should call me for that?” The anxiety in his voice creeps in, despite him desperately choking on his tone. 

“Thank God I’m close by but liefje, please!” He heaves a sigh. 

A car door slams. Engine fires up, purring to life.

“You know you can bother me about this.” 

“Oh my God.” A pause. Like the gravity of the situation just hit him square in the jaw. 

“You’re in labor. Like labor labor.” He’s awestruck now.

“We’re going to be parents soon, aren’t we? Are we ready? I mean, I know you’re ready but am I ready?” There isn’t a doubt in his mind that you’re going to be an amazing mom. He’s known that since the day you found out you were pregnant.  

“Holy shit I’m going to be a dad. This is…this is fast.” You’d later tease him that he’d known about this moment for almost nine months now. It wasn’t exactly a surprise.

“Jesus. Okay.” 

Deep breath. 

“I’m just leaving the office and I’m on the way to the hospital now. Are you okay? Why am I asking your voicemail this? Why aren’y you picking up?” 

He’s totally panicking.

“I’ll be there soon. I love you.” 

Click. 

Your Toddler Steals His Phone. 

“MAMAAAAAAA!!” A small toddler-like squeal follows your favorite name you’ve ever been called. 

“Mama I miss you! Where’d you go, Mama?” The question is stilted, the baby still learning how to move his mouth around the proper words. 

“Schatje! Where is my phone?” The question is muffled, like Max is far away. 

Tiny footsteps clatter against the hardwood floor of your Monaco home. 

Peals of giggles and breathless gasps are the only thing you hear in response. 

“Mama save me! Save me from Daddy!” Your little boy giggles, squealing in delight. 

Louder footsteps sound behind your baby, who is surprisingly fast despite his stubby little legs. “You get back here right now!” Max orders, but there’s laughter at the edge of his voice.

This is a game. 

A game neither Max or your baby want to lose. 

“Daddy says he’s going to tickle me if he catches me!” 

Another squeal. 

Giggles. 

One voice high pitched. One lower pitched, your husband finally catching up to the speedy toddler. 

“Give me that. Who are you…oh you managed to call your Mama?” 

A pause. Your toddler nods. “Didn’t want a bath! Mama will rescue me!” 

Max chuckles, prying little fingers off of his phone. “She will not. She’ll say you’re stinky too! You need a bath!” 

“Noooo!” He howls but it’s too late. 

“Sorry, liefje. He’s fine. Bath time is going well! Enjoy your time with your sister! Love you.” 

A pause. 

“Tell Mama you love her.” 

“Save me Mamaaaaaaaa!” 

Click. 

Chapter Text

First Date 

“I cannot believe I hit your neighbors car tonight.” Charles’ cheeks flame with embarrassment. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“That’s one hell of a first date story we’ll be able to tell our grandkids.”

Pause. Charles suddenly realizes he might have just made this voicemail awkward. His eyes close, cheeks heating again. Why does he lose all sense of decorum and control around you?

He presses on. 

“I took you out, swept you off your feet…” Another pause, as if he’s replaying the entire evening in his head, checking to make sure his perception of the evening matched the reality. “I hope…”

He clears his throat. Moving on. 

“And then BAM! Straight into a parked car. I am stupid.” It’s the same tone as that famous radio message and you are crying laughing.  

“The FIA going to take away my super license next time. Please don’t tell Ferrari. I’ll never live this down.” Charles shakes his head, eyes rolling at the memory of the crunching sound his Ferrari made and the laughter that spilled out of you after the incident. 

“I hope my inability to park hasn’t scared you away. I swear I’m usually smoother…”  

‘Usually’ being the key word there. 

Until he was less than a foot away from you in his car, your perfume so intoxicating that he’ll never get off of his mind.

“You just make me so nervous.” The vulnerability in his voice makes your heart squeeze. 

“I was looking at you, listening to you laugh at my stupid jokes when I should have been watching where I was going.” Had he known you’d be wearing that little black dress and sky high heels, he would’ve hired a driver for the night. 

“In my defense, you are so pretty when you laugh and parallel parking is hard.” 

God, he hoped he hadn’t screwed this up. He already can’t stop thinking about you. 

“Can I make it up to you with a second date? Please?” 

And maybe a third. And fourth. And fifth?

Click. 

First Kiss 

“Mon dieu…” Charles sighs into the phone, lovesick and drunk on you. 

“First I hit your neighbors car and then the poor woman catches us making out on the stoop.” He scrubs his hand over his face. He’s going to have to pay for you to move apartments, he’s so embarrassed. Charles will never be able to face your silver-haired neighbor ever again. 

“She stood there for a long time though…which is weird.” 

He chuckles finally, picturing the way she had stood there for several moments, glaring at you two, hands on her hips. 

“I don’t think she likes me. Which, fair I guess.” 

Charles been so lost in the fact that he’d finally worked up the courage to kiss you that he hadn’t heard the door creak open. Or the way your neighbor cleared her throat. Loudly. Six times. 

“In my defense, that was the best first kiss turned first make out session I’ve ever had.”  

Charles was ruined after that kiss. The way you had touched him, drug your fingernails across the back of his neck, up into his hair. Tugged a little bit. 

A groan rumbles in the back of his throat as he turns the key to his newly-repaired Ferrari. 

“If I promise not to try to make out with you in front of your neighbor, can we do it again?” 

Something tugs deep in his gut at the thought of seeing you again. “I have to go to Maranello tomorrow for testing but I’ll be back Wednesday.” 

That was in two days time. Two days too long. 

For the both of you. 

“Please apologize to your neighbor again. I swear I’ll keep my hands to myself next time.” 

A pause. You can picture the grin sliding across his face.

“At least until we get inside.” 

Click.  

He Questions Everything

“I can’t do this anymore.” The anguish in his voice has your stomach twisting when you listen to the message. 

It was late where you were. Or early. He didn’t know. He was in Las Vegas, you were in Monaco. Too many miles and too much heartache. 

“I’ve given that team my entire heart. My youth. My best years and this is what they do? They can’t even listen to my suggestions. Can’t help but blunder themselves into P10 when I should’ve been on the podium.” 

He’s rambling now. You’re his safe space though. The only one who won’t call him petty or ungrateful. Won’t judge or call him out. You see the pain his team causes him. The way he gives them everything and then some and still is expected to give more. 

The line goes quiet for several moments. You think maybe he hung up, but the message keeps going. 

Silence stretches but it’s full of everything he can’t bring himself to say. 

“Red Bull’s been sniffing around, with Max retiring. Merc too, with George on his way to Cadillac.” He hadn’t told you this. Hadn’t told anyone outside of his manager. Charles was almost afraid to talk about it, even with you. 

Because if he said it out loud, it meant he was considering leaving his home. 

“Ferrari has…well, they’ve given me everything but…” 

A sigh so deep and full of everything he can’t put words to. It feels disloyal to even think the things that have been turning over in his mind since he took the checkered flag hours ago.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” 

The sound of a suitcase zippering. 

“I’m coming home. Can we spend the next two weeks somewhere warm so I can just stare at you in a bikini and forget the hell that this team puts me through?” 

The thud of his suitcase echos. 

“Please?” 

Click. 

A Surprise

“Before I tell you what I just did, I would like to remind you that I love you more than life, mon ange.” 

You had frozen mid-step in the hallway of the apartment listening to that opening line. 

“It’s really a funny story, to be honest. I think you’ll laugh.” At least that’s what Charles was banking on.

“It all started when Joris and I went to see an old friend of his after the gym today. He needed to get something for the car he’s been working on and this guy had the part.”  

This story was suspiciously twisty and curvy, even for your boyfriend.

“So we get there and there are puppies EVERYWHERE.” 

At that very moment, a little yip comes across the line and Charles groans. 

“Leo!” He scolds. 

Oh, great. He’s already named him. This was not going to end well. 

“Leo!” He repeats. “Now you’ve gone and spoiled the surprise.” 

Leo yips again, louder this time. Like he’s just discovered he can make that kind of noise. 

“Surprise!” Charles says weakly. 

“He was the runt of the litter. He’s blonde. Like you!” 

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Charles knows he’s in trouble. 

“I mean…” 

Leo barks. Charles tuts. 

“I’ll be home in ten. You’re going to love him, I promise!” 

He hoped. 

Click. 

He Feels Left Out

“What on earth were you texting Maman today, amore?” Charles grumbles into the phone. 

“She was giggling like a school girl anytime she looked at her phone.” He slots the key into the front door. 

The lock clicks. 

Leo barks. 

You’re in Paris for work, missing your boys. 

“And then she refused to tell me what you were talking about.” 

It’s so cute when your boyfriend gets jealous of your relationship with his mother. It was innocent though. You had sent her a meme making fun of Charles’ most recent parking accident on the streets of Monaco. 

Charles was just so easy to tease. 

“All she would say was that she was talking to you and that you were having a very funny conversation.” 

A pause. The jingle of Leo’s leash. 

You can practically feel the pout on his face. 

“Probably at my expense, no?” 

The elevator to your flat dings and Leo barks again. It’s about time for his nightly walk but you can tell Charles is still grumpy by the way he won’t let this go.

“What were you two talking about?” He whines. 

If FOMO had a spokesperson, it was Charles LeClerc. 

“You two are so mean to me.” He pouts. 

“I love you. Call me later.”

Click. 

Grocery Store Fumble

“Amore, we have a problem.” You can tell Charles is desperately trying not to panic. 

“Why are there so many tube shaped green vegetables at this market?” 

He stands in the middle of the produce section of your tiny grocery store. You were a few blocks away, in the middle of cooking dinner. 

“Whoever thought it was a good idea to put the cucumbers next to the zucchinis has a sick sense of humor.” He grouses. 

Theres a rustle of plastic as he opens the produce bag. You had just asked for one zucchini and now Charles was spiraling. 

“The sign says ‘Cucumbers and Zucchinis! Buy 2 get 2 free!” He’s panicking. “What kind of sick joke is this?”

Dinner rests squarely on his shoulders and right now, it’s not looking so good. 

“Does it matter?” He asks like he’s expecting an answer. Like he’s not talking to your voicemail. 

“Can you use a cucumber instead?” Deep breath. “What if I get this wrong?” 

He picks up two green vegetables, one long and skinny, wrapped in plastic and another shorter, thicker, a deeper green. His eyes scan the deserted store. No one was around to help. 

He was on his own. 

“How different can they be? They’re both green. Both long and skinny. Although this one is a little…thicker.” 

The giggle that starts low in his throat has you rolling your eyes when you listen to the message a few hours later. 

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.” 

A frustrated sigh morphs into a groan. 

“You know what? I make professional athlete money. I’ll buy all the green vegetables so that way I don’t get yelled at for being stupid. Again.” 

He’s so dramatic.

Another bag rustles open. 

“I’ll be home soon. I love you.” 

Click. 

A Song For You

Soft strains of music float across the line. Charles doesn’t speak. Doesn’t actually realize he’s accidentally called you. He’s at his piano, lost in the piece he’s working on while you’re away on a trip. He’s missing you fiercely and coping the only way he knows how: music. 

The song meanders on for several moments. Soft. Careful. You can feel the adoration he’s pouring into every note, even through the muffled sounds of his phone being tucked away in his pocket. 

He doesn’t know he’s giving you the best gift. 

The music dies and it’s quiet. 

“Do you like it, Leo?” Charles rasps, his voice unsteady. 

Leo doesn’t answer, just lifts his head to look at your boyfriend. 

“Do you think she’ll like it?” He sounds…nervous. 

Charles rarely gets nervous. 

Except when it comes to you. 

“I’ve been working on it for ages now and it’s finally coming together. Finally feels like it’s a reflection of how I feel when I look at her.” 

A heavy pause. He still doesn’t realize the phone is recording his confession to Leo.

“I’m going to marry your mama one day.” He tells the dog. 

“I’m going to marry her and this is the song that’s going to play when she walks down the aisle towards me.” 

A few notes drift across the line again. Delicate. Like he’s piecing together a puzzle. 

“She is everything, Leo.” 

His voice his reverent, like he’s planning on getting down on his knees and worshipping you the next time he sees you. 

“Your mama has the prettiest eyes, doesn’t she? The prettiest smile? And when she laughs. God, when she laughs it’s like the sun finally peaking out from behind a days worth of storm clouds. Bright. Warm. Everything.” 

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “And she turns me into a total sap apparently.” 

A sigh. 

“I miss her.” 

You’ve only been gone for 24 hours. 

“Do you miss her? I miss her, Leo. I know she’ll be home soon but…” 

A pause as he reaches for his phone to call you. Chuckles when he sees he already has. 

“Hello, amore. I guess you heard all of that, oui? Come back to Leo and I. We miss you. I have something I want to play for you.” 

Another pause. 

“I love you.” 

Click. 

Chapter Text

Oscar Piastri has a crush

“Hi. This is uh…” Oscar had actually just forgotten his own name. 

“This is Oscar Piastri. We met today on that tour?” 

He’d been asked to do a Q&A session with a class of kids that day, visiting from the local primary school. You’d been there, a chaperone for your son’s class. 

Oscar had briefly forgotten how to breathe. 

“Yeah, I hope this isn’t weird or anything but...” 

Pause. Now that he was about to say this out loud, it sounded super weird. He was going to murder Lando for talking him into this. 

“Okay this is probably pretty weird but in my defense, Lando said this is what he’d do.” Another pause, heavy with the weight of regret at listening to Lando Norris of all people. 

“Which was probably my first mistake, listening to chaos personified. Anyway…”

Now, where was he? 

Fuck. 

“Fuck. Sorry. So.” Oh God, this was going so so very bad “This is Oscar from earlier today. I had my PR manager find your number because…this is so embarrassing.” 

Oscar’s chest feels like it might crack apart with how heavy this moment feels. 

“I’ve just never seen someone so pretty as you are and it’s to the point where I have to just, suck it up and shoot my shot because I might just go insane if I lose out on a chance at even one single date with you.”  

The confession tumbles from his lips, quick and thick with his accent. 

“So. If I haven’t totally terrified you yet, call me back? I’d like to take you out.” 

Click. 

He kisses you 

“Hi.” He’s breathless, chest rising and falling quickly. Oscar is distracted momentarily by the memory of the way you’d pressed your lips to his just moments before. 

“Uh…Hi.” He stumbles. 

“I hope that was okay to do. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to kiss you all night long.” He flushes in to the darkness, thankful no one from the garage was around to see him absolutely fold for this woman.  

“Every time you bite your bottom lip when you’re concentrating is so fucking distracting, I could barely remember how to blink.” 

The confession hangs quietly in the air, thick and warm like woolen blanket. 

“Woman, you have ruined me and I am so thankful for that. I don’t think I’ll ever fucking recover from that kiss, my love.” His voice is rich, husky in a way that made your stomach twist. 

“When can I see you next?” A pause, as if something pings in his memory. 

“I know you have Jack full-time and I want to be respectful of that. So, you tell me when and that’s what we’ll do.” 

He makes it sound so easy. You know it’s not. But if he’s willing to try, so are you. 

“You’re in control here.” 

Music to your ears. 

“Okay. Call me when you get a minute. I just want to hear your voice.” 

Click

He Meets Your Son

“I am in awe of you, woman.” Oscar’s voice is misty, airy in a way that tells of his admiration of you. 

“The way you mother Jack is…God.” He chuckles, sighs and shakes his head.

“It was a sight to see. That little boy is so loved by you.” Your heart stalls at his words, at the sincerity in his tone. 

“I cannot believe how good he was at that miniature golf today!” Oscar huffs a laugh, light and genuine.  

“Lando is going to be so excited to have a potential golfing buddy in the future.” 

Oh, he was making plans plans now? He was so down bad. 

“You know how some people are just built to be a parent? That’s you, my love.” The compliments spill from his lips, as easy as breathing. 

“Watching you and Jack together today, getting to meet him…” The awe in his voice. Like he knew how big of a deal it was for you to allow someone else in your son’s life. 

You didn’t bring people around that weren’t going to stay. You had extended that trust to Oscar and he had accepted that responsibility without question.

Knew it was a privilege. 

“You are raising one hell of a kid. I hope you know that.” He pauses, dragging in a shaky breath. The emotion of what he wanted to say, what he needed you to know sat heavy on his chest. 

“How good you are. How well you’re doing. I know you know this,” 

A pause.

“But in case you need a reminder allow me to be the voice of reason, sweet girl.” 

Tears slip down your face, fast and free as you choke on a sob. 

“You are a good mom and Jack is such a good kid. Call me after his bedtime.” 

Click. 

He babysits 

“Okay, don’t panic.” 

You do, in fact, panic. 

“Everyone’s fine. For the most part.” 

Somehow, you doubted that by the way Oscar was panting and breathless on the other end.  

“No one is at the hospital. Yet.” 

You were going to kill him. And Lando. 

“I feel like I’m babysitting Jack AND Lando right now. Oh God, they’re causing a scene.” You hear the distinct wail of your six year old followed by Lando’s muffled British accent. 

“Why’d I let him talk me into taking Jack karting is beyond me.” He shakes his head. 

“Not entirely sure how I managed to get you to agree to this.” He muses. 

He was going to be in so much trouble. 

“Jack’s only gone into the barriers twice, which is only once more than Lando funnily enough.” 

It was not funny. 

“Don’t tell Lando I told you that.” Oscar says quickly and you chuckle. 

“We just finished our third race, Jack finished P1 all three of them.” Oscar sounds truly impressed. 

“That kid is good, babe! If you want, we can go to a proper track next time!” He knows he might be getting ahead of himself but the way Jack looked taking those corners as fast as he could push the little go-kart reminded Oscar a lot of himself at that age. 

He shakes his head, dislodging those kinds of feelings from his head. The dangerous ones. The ones that lead to slow Sunday mornings and quiet Thursday dinners. 

“Maybe Jack will race at Silverstone one day.” His voice goes wistful. Sentimental. Something Oscar generally doesn’t allow himself the luxury of doing. 

But he’s begun to, with you. Little by little. Piece by piece. 

“Anyway. We’re having fun. Miss you.” He almost says two other words, but catches himself. 

“Say bye to your mom, Jack.” He calls quickly. 

“BYE MOM.” Your boy yells gleefully. 

“BYE MOM!” Shouts Lando. 

Oscar groans. 

Click. 

An Accidental Voice Mail 

The TV plays softly in the background. Everything is muffled. It takes you a moment to realize but this wasn’t meant to be recorded. 

“So, your middle name is Jack? Just like my first name?” Jack asked skeptically. 

You’ve been sent to the spa that Saturday morning, one of Oscar’s rare weekends home during the season. Jack was thrilled to get alone time with your boyfriend. 

“Exactly.” Oscar confirms. 

“Did she pick you on purpose then?” Jack asks, voice small. 

Oscar tilts his head. Turns down the volume on the TV. 

“What do you mean, bud?” 

“Well, she already knows my name so did she pick you because your middle name is Jack. I know she forgets things a lot so maybe she picked you so she’d have one less name she’d have to remember.” 

The laugh that Oscar lets out is genuine and warm. He ruffles your son’s dark brown curls. They’re so similar to his, it’s almost spooky. 

“I don’t think that’s quite how it works, kiddo.” He says gently, but there’s laughter at the edge of his voice. 

“No, I think it is.” Jack says, all six year old confidence and bravado.

“I think it means you two should get married one day too.” 

Oscar is quiet for a beat. Like he doesn’t quite know how to react to that little declaration. 

“Yeah, that’s the goal for one day, little man. Would you like that? Your mom and I getting married one day?” 

This was certainly not the conversation Oscar thought he’d be having today. He hoped he wasn’t overstepping but it wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t already discussed it. In vague terms, in ‘one day’, abstract conversations about quiet wishes whispered late at night in the darkness. 

Jack thinks for a moment and then nods. “Yeah, I think that would be cool.” 

Something tightens in Oscar’s chest. 

“Well, now we just have to get your mom on board, huh?” Oscar says conspiratorially. “Hopefully she says yes.” 

“She already told me she would.” He says it so casually, so off-handedly that Oscar’s heart nearly stops. 

And then he glances at his phone. “Oh…sh…” 

Click. 

Thanks, Dad 

“Hi. We have a problem.” He stops. Silence. 

“Problem? No, that’s not the right word.” He reconsiders. 

Oscar is always very careful with his words.  

“A…situation? That sounds bad. Maybe it is? I’m kind of spiraling.”  

Clearly. 

“When Jack got into the car today after school pickup, he told me how his friends didn’t believe his dad was Oscar Piastri.” Your stomach lurches. 

“Dad.” 

The word hangs in the air. Heavy. Meaningful. Everything.

“He…seemed to catch what he had just said and got a little shy.” 

Jack had shrunk back in his seat, realizing his embarrassing slip of the tongue. 

“But then in the tiniest voice I’ve ever heard him use, asked me if it would be okay if he called me dad.”

Oscar had nearly driven off the road. 

“I panicked. Should I have told him no?”  

A pause. He swallows around the stone of emotion that’s blocking his windpipe.  

“I told him he could.” He confesses. 

It had been an easy decision. As easy as falling in love with you. He just hoped you wouldn’t be mad. 

“I told him that he could call me whatever he wanted and if he wanted to call me dad he could.” Oscar paused. 

“I should have asked you though? Maybe?” His voice was tight. Thin. Like he was second guessing everything coming out of his mouth. 

“Oh, I am freaking out here.” He blew out a breath. 

“Did I just ruin everything? Jack was super happy when I dropped him at your moms. All smiley and chatty about his homework.” 

The words come quickly, like he’s trying to convince himself that this is okay. That he’s not seeing his very much desired future unfolding right in front of him.

“Then he gave me a hug and said ‘Thanks for picking me up from school, Dad.’” 

Emotion chokes him

“Babe. I. What?” He lets out a breath of disbelief. Like he can’t figure out how he stumbled his way into such happiness. 

“Can I? Can we…” 

A sob concealed as a cough. 

“Be a family? Please? 

Click. 

Interview Blunder 

“Um. Hi. Quick reminder that I love you…” Oscar was away for the weekend, somewhere in the Middle East, for a race. 

“But hopefully you listen to this before you watch the post-race presser.” 

Oscar had finished P2 that weekend, the tail end of a brutal triple header. You hadn’t seen him in what felt like weeks. The sound of his voice was a balm. 

“I just…” He drags in a shaky breath. 

“A reporter asked me if I was excited to have a few weeks off and without thinking I said that I couldn’t wait to get back home to my family.” That wasn’t unusual. Oscar was known throughout the paddock to be family oriented. 

“I said that I missed my son and was looking forward to doing school drop-off so you could have your slow mornings back.” 

Silence. Oscar has never publicly claimed Jack like that. It was known in your circle that you two were serious. That Jack called Oscar Dad. That you three were a family. 

But to the general public? No one knew fully grasped how serious it was. 

“I didn’t mean to talk about Jack so publicly. I know you don’t want him in the spotlight.” His breath catches, like he can’t fully take in a lungful of air. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be claimed by Oscar. You saw the kind of relationship he had with your son, the way he carefully considered Jack in everything he did. You were scared of the public scrutiny, the way people always had an opinion on everything. All you wanted was to protect what was yours. 

“Fuck, please don’t be mad at me.” The anxiety in his voice has your stomach twisting painfully. 

You weren’t mad. 

“He calls me dad and I think of him as my own, baby. You and Jack are my family and I slipped.”  He hadn’t meant it. It hadn’t truly clicked, what he’d said, until he saw the look on Lando’s face beside him. The shock. The awe. The cheeky grin. 

“I thought Sophie was going to have an actual anxiety attack. Crofty nearly went feral. Lando choked on air.” He chuckled. The reactions in the room had been priceless, even if he’d fully panicked as soon as the weight of what he’d said settled in his chest. 

“I think Max even smiled a little.” Anything that got Max Verstappen to show emotion was a big deal. 

“Anyway. Fuck.” He paused, his train of thought stalling. 

“My point is that I’m sorry, I just love that kid so much. And you. I love you.” He says it as easily as if he’s reading the day’s weather forecast. Matter of factly. Casually. 

“And you’re both my family and one day we’re all going to have the same last name and he’s always going to be my son and I just hope you’re not mad.” 

Another pause. Like he’s trying to figure out if he needs to do more damage control.

“I love you.” He says again. 

Deep breath. 

“Okay. Call me. Tell Jack I’ll be home soon.” 

Click. 

Chapter Text

A Podium Finish 

“You picked one hell of a race to miss, mon lutin” His little elf. Esteban had called you that for as long as you could remember. Certainly since the days you spent playing together in the shared back gardens of your childhood homes. 

“The rain. Oh, the rain. I’ve never raced in rain like that.” He’s breathless, high off a podium finish that comes much too rare for someone of his racing caliber. He deserves more, you think. 

“Max drove one hell of a race. P17 to win but Pierre and I…We both finished on the podium for the first time together since our karting days.” 

You knew how complicated Esteban’s relationship with Pierre was. Friends turned rivals turned teammates turned…well, who knew anymore. For them to finish on the podium together was…big. 

“I hadn’t realized how much I missed this.” The relief in his voice had something aching in your chest as you listened to the message.

“Being in the backfield, God. It’s so painful.” You knew this first hand. Had to stand by and watch your best friend live out his dream, just slightly muted. 

“But today? Today made up for it.” He sounds…happy. Relieved. Like he can finally take a breath for the first time in so long. 

“You don’t finish a race like that on the podium without proving yourself worthy, ma belle.”

Esteban pauses, knowing he’s flirting dangerously with a line neither of you have ever had the courage to cross. When he calls you these names, it’s a reminder of what could be. A gentle tug into a direction that is full of unknowns and uncertainties. 

“I wish you were here.” He drags in a breath, suddenly wondering if he should stop. He’s coming too close to that line again. Toes it in the most delicate way that has you chewing on your bottom lip, wishing he’d come up with the courage first. 

“It’s been too long.” Muffled shouts come from the distance and there’s a pause on the line. Like he’s trying to decide if he should say what he wants to next. 

“What if…” He’s working up the courage. 

“I changed my flight and came to Paris for a bit to see you?” 

The question hangs, heavy and thick and full of possibility. 

“It’s been ages. This racing thing is getting in the way of our friendship.” Esteban pouts. 

“Or you could just quit your job and follow me around the globe.” 

A chuckle. He knows you’d never do that. Your modeling career was too important to you. He’d never ask that of you either. Not seriously.  

“Kidding.” He finishes quickly. “Don’t do that.”

More shouts. Someone calls his name off in the distance. Team celebrations are imminent, you’re sure of it.  

“Okay.” He heaves a sigh, like he doesn’t quite want to hang up just yet. 

“I have to go but call me the moment you wake up, I want to tell you about the race.”

And hear your voice. 

But he doesn’t say that. 

Can’t say that. It’s too dangerous. 

Click. 

Jealousy Jealousy 

“Hi.” Esteban’s voice is clipped, forced, harsh. You’re unfamiliar with this tone coming from him, your best friend. 

“I saw your Insta story. With that guy. I thought you said it wasn’t serious?” His words are harsh, accusatory in a way that has you biting the inside of your cheek. Hard. 

“It looks really fucking serious to me, what with you posting him on your stories.” Esteban’s not trying to be angry. 

He is angry, unbelievably angry. 

But there’s an undercurrent of panic. 

Hurt. 

Anxiety. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating him?” More hurt. More accusations. Like you did this all on purpose. 

“Are we keeping secrets from each other now, mon lutin?” He’s desperate to sound light hearted, like he’s teasing you.

He fails miserably. 

“It’s just…We never keep these kinds of things from each other. And now you’re not picking up my calls after quali?” 

It’s rare for you not to answer his calls after qualifying. It’s rare for you to even miss a session, even when you’re separated by continents and work commitments. You’ve gone as far as to have the crew of whatever set you’re working on turn on a tv so you can keep track of how Esteban’s doing. It’s ritual. For the both of you. You watch and he knows you’re watching. 

  “I know it’s late in Paris but you never miss my calls after I’m in the car, unless it’s in the middle of the night.”  

And even then…

“Are you with him now?” Esteban’s heart aches, clenching painfully in his chest like it’s going to crumple in on itself from sheer anxiety. 

“How long have we been friends? I thought…I thought we meant more to each other than this. I thought…” 

I thought that would be me. 

He doesn’t say it but it’s there. You hear it too, in the silence. 

“I’m sorry, this is unfair of me.” He whispers, picking at a hangnail on his thumb. Esteban knew he was out of line for this. The guilt trip. The harsh words. He knew he shouldn’t. 

“If you’re happy, I’m happy.” 

He tries to sound like he meant it. 

He doesn’t. 

“Can we talk when I get home? I’ll come to Paris. Or wherever you are, oui?” 

There’s a desperate edge to his voice. Like he knows he’s on the precipice of losing you forever.

“I need to see you though. Please.” The pleading does you in completely. 

Tears threaten. 

Esteban doesn’t cry. 

“Please don’t shut me out.” He begs.

Click. 

Your Turning Point

“So the funniest thing just happened…” You can practically hear the smile spread across his face, slow and lazy like honey in the summer. 

“I just boarded my flight to Paris to come see you.” He’s breathless with excitement. It’s been ages since he’s spent any significant amount of time with you.

“I was in one of those little shops getting my snacks for my flight…you know how I need gummy bears and a Coke for take off…” You chuckle. Esteban is obsessed with his routine and refuses to get on a flight without his little bag of gummy bears and a cold Coke. 

“So I was buying my snacks and I glance over and it’s you! Ma belle, you are on the cover of Vogue!” He’s in awe of you, the power you hold over him.

Esteban shakes his head, leaning further back into the leather seat of the airplane. 

“I knew you had shot for the cover months ago but you didn’t tell me it was coming out this month!” His voice holds an edge to it, a little jealous that he wasn’t told but there’s no bite to it. He’s not angry. Not truly. 

“I would have bought out the entire stand but I didn’t have enough room in my backpack! So I bought four.”  

Like that was any better.

“I told the cashier that I knew you. I showed the cover to the gate agent and all of the flight attendants too. Sent a picture of it to Ollie.” 

The pride in his voice has you gasping for air. 

“He’s very impressed too, says he wants an autograph.” He chuckles, shaking his head at the message his teammate had sent back.

“You are…” He didn’t have the words. 

The way the gown you were wearing floated around you, the black and silver fabric ethereal and otherworldly. 

“Perfection personified, mon ange. I can’t wait to see you this weekend.” 

Something shakes him, as he sits alone in the airplane seat, waiting for takeoff. It’s a tug that he’s ignored for years, turned more insistent. He can’t ignore it anymore, the way he feels about you. 

He came so close to losing you before. The fight had been…awful. 

You both were still recovering from it. 

“Movie night tonight?” He moves on from the memory quickly, wanting to focus on how soon he’s going to be with you again. 

Esteban knows this weekend is…big. He feels it in his bones.

“You said you’d have a Marvel marathon with me if I agreed to take you to that little cafe in Monmartre, remember?” 

He would’ve taken you to that cafe regardless, just to see the look on your face when you took that first bite of the almond croissant’s they were famous for. 

“Then what do you want to do? I’m all yours until Wednesday.” 

Or forever. 

I can be yours forever, Esteban wants to say. Something keeps him from going there though. Not now. Not here. Not like this. 

“When was the last time we just played tourist?” He asks playfully, like he knows exactly what you need 

“Moulin Rouge? Notre Dame, a walk along the Seine. Maybe we even brave the tourists and go to the Eiffel Tower? Anything you want.” 

Anything. 

And Esteban means it. 

Click. 

He Kisses You

“Hi.” Esteban is soft this morning. So soft. 

“I know you’re working and it’s okay that you didn’t answer. I just wanted to hear your voice. Last night was…everything.”  

His words are heavy, carrying the memory of Esteban cupping your head in his hands, slowly moving his mouth towards yours until neither of you could stand it anymore. 

And then he had kissed you. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” He shakes his head. 

He’d been so scared to cross that line. That line that had existed for years.  But now that he had? There was no going back. 

“I know you’re worried.” He’s seen it in the crease that formed between your brow when you didn’t think he’d been looking at you. 

Esteban was always looking at you. 

“I know you’re worried about how this is going to change things but it’s going to be okay. We’ve been headed this way for ages, mon coeur.”

Mon Coeur. 

My heart. 

That was new. It made you feel alive. 

“We haven’t been ‘just friends’ for a while. I think we both know that.” 

You did. You’d just been too scared to lose the most important person in your life on a whim.

“I’ve loved you for a long time and…” The confession hangs for a moment. He hadn’t said it to your face yet but it was out there now. 

“I know it hasn’t been more than 24 hours since I finally was able to gather up the courage to make a move, but this feels”  

A pause. 

A search for the right words 

“…right. This feels right. For me it does.”

Another pause. Like he’s considering your reaction and how you’re feeling. 

“I think you feel it too?” 

You do. God, do you. 

“I’m just sorry I waited so fucking long to kiss you because now that I have, you’re never going to get me to stop.” He laughs, bright, open, sentimental. 

“The way you smell? The way you taste?” Esteban groans like a 13-year-old boy. 

“I woke up this morning reaching for you in bed. I’m already addicted to you, mon coeur.” 

There is was again. 

His heart. 

You.

“I guess I have been for a long time. I know we’ve been scared to ruin what we have but what if what we could have is so much better?” He felt it. Knew the possibilities were endless. 

“I think we owe it to ourselves to find out.” 

Esteban wasn’t going to let this go. Wasn’t going to let you slip out of his grasp. Not now, not now that he knew what you tasted like. How it felt to kiss you, to touch you, to feel your skin against his.

“I love you.” The confession has your heart tumbling down to your toes. 

You loved him too. 

Endlessly. 

“I miss you already. Come to the race this weekend? I don’t want to spend another weekend without you.” His voice borders on whiney. You grin. 

“I need you. Please? I’ll buy your ticket when I get to the hotel. Okay. Bye.” 

Click. 

Points In A Haas

“We did it, baby!” Esteban crows. The joy. The relief. The sheer excitement of the race pours from the other end of the phone. Tears flood your eyes, spilling over near instantly when you play the message back. 

“Points in this car! Oh my God, we did it!” You can hear the threat of tears from your boyfriend too. All of the long nights, the second guessing, the ‘what if’s…it’s not a perfect season. Not even a perfect race but you know how much this means to Esteban. 

“God, that was one hell of a drive.” It’s rare he brags on himself like this. So rare that you find yourself locking this bit of memory away, wanting to treasure this moment forever. 

“I haven’t felt like that in a car in so long. Everything just…clicked. The team, the car, my focus. Fuck it felt so good.” He laughs again. Bright. Loud. Open. 

God, it feels so good to hear him like this. Esteban pours so much of himself into his racing that hearing him like this is like a cool summer breeze in the height of summer. 

“I wish you were here to celebrate.” His tone turns wistful suddenly, like he’s just realizing he is actually missing something very important: You.

“I know it’s not a win or a podium or anything but…” You hate the way he discounts his victories. 

“Fuck I wish you were here to celebrate this with me.” Your heart twisted. You hated that you had to work. You’d tried to get out of the brand commitment you’d had but it had taken precedence. 

“I’ve got a break in races now and you have a few weeks off too, right?” 

You had shared your calendar with him months ago. Esteban knew the answer to that was yes. 

“Come to Japan with me? Meet me somewhere tomorrow and then come to the race with me. I want you in the paddock with me, please.” The ‘please’ was borderline begging from him and it did something to your tummy, desire twisting hot and sharp. 

“I don’t like being away from you now.” He whispers, a quiet confession rooted in how soft Esteban is for you. How soft he’s always been for you, but now he can show it full force.  

“I mean, I never liked being away from you but now that we’re…us…” 

Together. A couple. Official. 

It’d been that way since that weekend in Paris after your first kiss. Everything slotted together like it was always supposed to be this way. 

“I like it even less. I miss your face. I miss waking up next to you. Kissing you whenever I want.” 

His voice drops an octave. You can see the smirk ticking up at the edge of his mouth. 

“Fucking you whenever I want.” He whispers, low and slow, accent thick. 

“So please, come see me. Or I’ll come to you. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.” 

You were pretty sure Esteban would move mountains for you.

“I’m just so happy. This team. This car. Us.” 

Us. 

God, it sounded so good to him. Finally, he had you all to himself. Claimed. His. 

“Okay. Call me back when you get this. I love you.” 

Click. 

A Little Slip Up 

“Good morning, mon coeur.” Esteban sounded guilty. 

“So, quick heads up…” Oh this was going to be so good. And by good, you knew it was going to be bad. 

“I might have made a teeny tiny little mistake this morning during the press conference. Nothing bad. Maybe. Just uh…well.” You brace yourself. Esteban drew in a shaky breath. He didn’t quite know how you were going to react to this. 

“Crofty asked us about our plans for summer break at the presser today and you know how excited I am for our trip to Bali and well…I kind of told the entire press pool about us.” Esteban winced, replaying the moment when Croft’s eyes lit up at the little nugget he knew he’d wiggled out of him.

A pause.

Like he was expecting you to yell at him, despite it being a voicemail. He’d never been so thankful for your insane schedule. 

“Oops?” He chuckles, light and airy. 

Guilty. 

“And then Crofty caught the word and wouldn’t let it go. You know how he is with those things. Like a dog with a fucking bone.”

The headline had practically written itself: Confirmed! Esteban Ocon dating International Model and Childhood Best Friend!

“Asked me if you were the girl that’s been spotted in the paddock with me the last few races. Said he recognized you because his daughter is a huge fan. I may have promised him an autograph from you?” It had been a slip, a joke made in a panic because he didn’t know how you were going to feel about his little slip. 

“Everyone thought it was very cute, so there’s that.” Esteban drags his hands over his face, scrubbing at his stubbled jaw.  

“Fuck, baby. I’m sorry.” He sounded wrecked. So guilty. It tied your stomach up in knots, because how could you get mad at the love of your life publicly calling you his girlfriend for the first time?

“I know we wanted to keep things quiet for a little while longer. The press is going to have a field day. I’ll have Greta call Melanie and they can do some damage control.” 

Oh God. Melanie. Your manager, forever on edge and always close to a breakdown. This was going to send her to the moon, wasn’t it. 

“Please don’t be mad at me? This way we don’t have to hide from the press anymore!” Esteban was always looking for the silver lining, wasn’t he? 

“No more baseball hats and giant sunglasses and hoods, right?” He sounds hopeful, like maybe he hasn’t stepped into a major blunder like he initially thought. 

 “This just means you can walk into the paddock with me from now on and I get to hold your hand and claim you as mine. No more stupid fake PR reasons for you to be there. You know what? This is fine.” 

Now he sounds smug. Too pleased with himself. Like this was the plan all along. 

“We’re fine.” You couldn’t tell if Esteban was trying to convince himself of this or you. You were leaning towards himself. 

“Melanie’s going to kill me, isn’t she?” 

Yes. Yes she was. 

“Okay. This is fine.” He was certainly trying to reassure himself now. 

You can’t help but chuckle at the swing of emotions. 

“I love you. Call me when you get this.” 

Click.  

An Engagement? Maybe?

“Where the fuck did the box go?” Esteban whispers, but the sound is soft, muffled. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, where did it go? It was just here.” 

A soft thud. Papers crinkling. A louder thud.

It takes a moment but you realize that your boyfriend doesn’t know he’s called you on accident. 

Esteban stands, panicking, hands on his head, in the middle of his drivers room. 

“Ollie!” He shouts. 

You hold your phone away from your ear at the sudden uptick in volume. 

“Ollie, have you been mucking around in my drivers room again?” 

A pause. 

A muffled voice. 

“Stay out of here, you fucking gremlin!” Esteban bites out. The strain in his voice is clear as day. What in the world was going on? He never spoke to Ollie like this. 

“Did you see a box when you were in here stealing snacks again?” 

Another pause. You can hear Ollie’s muffled voice, muddled with confusion. “No, mate! I swear!” 

“It’s black and velvet and it was just right here!” 

“Black and velvet, huh?” Ollie must be closer now, because you can hear his voice much better. There’s a teasing lilt to it. 

Your brow creases. 

“Don’t start.” Esteban growls. 

“What’s in this little box? Huh?” Ollie knows he’s treading dangerous waters, teasing his teammate when he’s in such a state but the young driver just can’t seem to help himself. 

Esteban shoots him a glare. “You know what this weekend is.” He hisses. 

You nibble at the corner of your lips. This weekend? You were at the race this weekend in Austria. 

It was also your birthday. 

“Did you lose her present?” Ollie gasps. 

“I didn’t lose it!” Esteban shoots back. “You did!” 

“Did not!!!” Ollie sits, much too pleased with watching his teammate spiral. 

“Then where is it?” 

“What’s in the box?” Ollie ignores the question. 

Esteban glares, debating the merit of putting his teammate into the wall later on during the second practice. 

“You know exactly what comes in a little black velvet box, Oliver.” 

Oh. Oliver. 

Ollie just grins, smooth and cat-like. 

“Do not.” 

“I’m proposing to her this weekend, you idiot.” 

You nearly drop the phone. 

Ollie gasps dramatically. “It’s about time!” 

Esteban glares, silent and deadly. 

“Or at least I was going to. Until I lost the fucking engagement ring!” 

And then, silence. 

“Uh…Estie Bestie…” Ollie sounds scared. “Your phone…” 

“Oh FUCK.” 

Click.