Chapter Text
George was awoken from his midday nap by the shrill ring of his cell phone. The Mercedes driver groaned in confusion; he knew what he was hearing was his ringtone, not the alarm he had set to wake himself up. With eyes half lidded, George lazily reached over for the phone on the nightstand, nearly dropping the device on his face thanks to the poor grip he had on it. Once he managed to steady the phone and actually look at the screen through his barely opened lids, George only became more confused. At first, he thought the call must’ve been a mistake, and he nearly let it go to voicemail, but something in his stomach urged him to pick up.
“Ollie?”
The rough tiredness in his voice must’ve taken the rookie off guard, because although George could hear him breathing on the other end of the line, it took the Haas driver a moment to actually respond.
“H-hey, George,” Ollie replied uncertainly. “Uh, sorry to bother you, but…do you think you could come to Kimi’s room? Something’s wrong…”
That woke George up. Propping himself up with his free arm, the older driver asked, “what do you mean wrong?”
“I-I think he’s sick,” Ollie began to nervously ramble. “He texted me, and I went to see him, but when he answered the door, he like…passed out or something. I don’t know, he looks bad. I dragged him to bed, and he won’t answer me. He just keeps saying your name over and over again.”
George didn’t think he’d ever heard Ollie say so much…or sound so freaked out, for that matter. But if Kimi was in as bad a shape as Ollie was making it sound, that was certainly understandable.
“Alright, I’ll be right there,” George promised. “Just stay with him until I get there, yeah?”
“Of course,” Ollie murmured, sounding only somewhat relieved.
George ended the call and slipped out of bed, grabbing some clothes and getting dressed as quickly as possible. It hadn’t been very long, but George had grown quite fond of his new teammate. He had been spoiled during his time at Mercedes, getting to drive alongside Lewis and learn the ins and outs from the seven-time world champion. Having looked up to his fellow compatriot driver from the time he was just a child, George had treasured that partnership and felt fortunate enough that he could consider Lewis not just a teammate, but a friend as well. Once Lewis had made the decision to sign with Ferrari, George had no idea who to expect as his next teammate. He wasn’t an idiot, and he knew Toto was hellbent on signing Max Verstappen. It was a thought that simultaneously made George excited and furious. Excited because Max would be excellent competition, even on the same team. Furious because, well, he was a bit of an ass and knew exactly how to push George’s buttons. And when it didn’t work out, George was once again flooded with an odd mix of emotions, namely relief and frustration.
It was an odd situation to be in, to say the least.
What he had certainly not been expecting, when Toto’s pursuit of Max hadn’t panned out, was to be paired up with a cherubic, doe-eyed teenager from the Mercedes junior program. The first time George ever met Kimi, he promptly asked Toto as soon as the meeting ended if he was absolutely sure the kid was 18. After all, he was undeniably adorable and very charming (aka a PR dream), but he certainly didn’t look like he should’ve been driving a potential death trap around winding tracks at over 200 kilometers an hour. It certainly didn’t help that when Toto assured George that Kimi was, in fact, of age, it came right before mentioning that the kid was also “quite smart” as evidenced by how “he was doing very well in school” and was “keeping up with his grades despite also being in F2”. George didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; there was no reason he should’ve felt like he belonged in an old folks’ home at the ripe old age of 27, but it was hard not to when you were staring a teenager dead in the face while he blathered on about his math homework and how difficult it was. And shamefully, for at least the first little while, George had to admit he was jealous of Kimi. The kid was obviously Toto’s pride and joy; the future of Mercedes, he believed. Their team principal fawned over the rookie, offering him all kinds of advice and encouragement. When George would playfully ask for the same, Toto would sternly remind him that he was now the veteran; old enough to know what to expect, what to do. George would just grit his teeth and watch the teenager out of the corner of his eye, waiting for the mistakes to come. Kimi had proved him wrong pretty quickly, however. It was clear that he was a very capable driver, who learned quickly and was able to adapt to many different situations in the car. George was impressed by the teenager’s tenacity and eagerness to improve. Once he saw that, George managed to push down his (self admittedly embarrassing) bout of envy and found himself growing fonder of the rookie.
Because despite his prowess on the track, Kimi was still just that: a teenager. Young and a little naïve and not always so self-assured outside of the car. Hell, even the car itself gave him fits sometimes that broke down his confidence. The first time Kimi did make a mistake on track, instead of feeling boastful over it, all George wanted to do was comfort the rookie. It had been jarring how heartbreaking it was to see the teenager’s big brown eyes full of tears, panic written all over his face. Over time, George had found it rather natural to take on an older brother figure to the rookie, even when his brain told him to mind his own business. Sometimes, it even felt like it drifted into a more parental role, particularly when George had to be a bit sterner with Kimi when he was goofing around a bit too much or, in more difficult times, reassuring him when things went awry. For what it was worth, Kimi never protested or appeared bothered by George’s guidance. If anything, he seemed to appreciate it, and oftentimes now even went to George on his own when he had questions or wanted advice. Sometimes, the two even hung out with one another away from the track. George didn’t have any younger siblings, so it was kind of fun to feel like he had a little brother in Kimi. This situation, however, felt much more like it was falling into the latter category of George’s roles towards his young teammate: a parent going to care for their sick child.
The rest of the grid would never let him hear the end of it once it got out. George could already hear the snickers and the quips: never beating the grid parent allegations!
At the moment, George didn’t care. He just wanted to go and make sure Kimi was okay. He could worry about the future humiliation lined up for him after the fact.
Fortunately, it didn’t take long for George to reach Kimi’s room (he had the number stored in his phone, just as he did every weekend in case of instances such as these) and he wasted no time knocking. From the other side of the door, he could hear who he assumed was Ollie stumbling all over himself and the furniture in the room. The door quickly opened to reveal the lanky Haas rookie, confirming George’s suspicion. The younger Britton looked just as panicked as he’d sounded on the phone, and George tried his best to not let that worry him. The rookies did sometimes overreact to things, and he knew that Ollie and Kimi were very close. It was natural, then, for Ollie to be concerned.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Ollie sighed, his shoulders sagging in relief. “I’m so glad you’re here! Kimi is, he’s, I don’t – “
“It’s okay, Ollie,” George kindly assured the rookie. “Where is he? Still in bed?”
Ollie nodded, figuring it was best to try and stop talking for the time being. Instead, he led George into the room and straight to Kimi’s bed. The room was not as large as George’s; it had a small foyer area with just two chairs and a table along with a kitchenette which led right into the bedroom. While this part of the room was more like what George had (the standard dresser with a TV on top, a floor lamp, and a desk in the corner), unlike the single king bed in his own room, Kimi’s room had two queen sized beds. It was the one on the right that was occupied by Kimi, and at first, George couldn’t really see him. He just knew based on the covered lump in the middle…and the fact that Ollie had made a beeline for that particular bed. Once George got closer, however, he finally got a good look at Kimi huddled up under the covers.
And he did not like what he saw.
His young teammate was trembling and positively colorless, save for an unhealthy flush on his cheeks. Even closed, his eyes appeared sunken, with a dark shadow around both of them. His breathing was ragged, an occasional wheeze accompanying each labored breath.
“George…”
Ollie frowned and turned towards the older Mercedes driver. “That’s all he’s said since he fell over. I figured he was wanting you.”
George nodded and walked over to the side of the bed, bending over and gently gripping Kimi’s shoulder. “Hey, mate, I’m right here. What’s wrong?”
Kimi slowly opened his eyes, that alone seeming to take too much energy out of him. He tried to respond, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he quickly turned his head away to cover a heavy cough. It was full of congestion, which led George to pull a face. Somehow, the kid sounded worse than he looked.
“It’s okay, don’t talk,” George murmured. He reached out and pressed his hand against Kimi’s forehead, withdrawing it almost as quickly. “Blimey, you’re burning up.”
“He felt really hot when I caught him,” Ollie confirmed. “And sweaty.”
Despite the situation at hand, George gave the other rookie a small smirk. “That checks out with a fever like this. Kimi, what else is bothering you? Do you have a headache?”
Kimi nodded.
“Does your throat hurt?”
Kimi nodded.
“Is your nose all stuffed up?”
Kimi nodded.
“Does it hurt to breathe?”
Kimi nodded.
George sighed and stood up straight, turning towards Ollie. “He’s got something all right. I don’t think it’s anything too serious, probably just a very bad cold or some kind of virus. But it’s understandable that you were so worried. Thank you for being here for him; I’d hate to know what would’ve happened if he was here on his own.”
Ollie nodded. “I’m glad I was here, too. When I opened the door and saw his face…I knew it was bad.”
Smiling sympathetically, George clapped a hand on Ollie’s shoulder. “He’ll be alright. The best thing we can do for him right now is make him comfortable.”
For the first time since this whole mess had started, Ollie returned George’s smile and nodded in agreement. A shrill ring pierced the air just then, and George reached for his phone, assuming it was his. Ollie had the same thought, however, and as it would turn out, it was his. As soon as he saw the screen, the British rookie cursed under his breath and dramatically threw his head back.
“Ayao wants to meet with me and Esteban,” Ollie whined. Picking his head back up, the young driver bit his lower lip before deciding, “it’s fine, I’ll just let him know something came up. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
George, however, would have none of it. “No, you go ahead. I can take care of Kimi on my own.”
Ollie blinked. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”
George smiled appreciatively. “I know you don’t, but your team principal might. I don’t want you to get in trouble. Kimi is in good hands with me; promise.”
“You’re such a good teammate,” Ollie complimented George, beaming at the older driver. “It’s no wonder Kimi speaks so highly of you!”
Unable to help himself, George let his smile widen. Kimi wasn’t shy about letting George know how much he meant to him, but it was definitely nice to hear it from someone else, too.
“Oh! Before I go!”
Ollie brushed past George, leaning over Kimi’s bed and grabbing something from the other side: a small, plush brown bear wearing a Mercedes cap and sweatshirt. The Haas driver tucked it against Kimi’s side, turning towards George with a caring grin on his face.
“Kimi loves that thing,” Ollie fondly informed the older driver. “I got it for him as a gift after he was signed by the team. Maybe it’ll help him feel a little better, knowing it’s right there.”
George chuckled and gave a small nod. “I’m sure it can’t hurt! Thanks again, Ollie.”
“Yeah, of course,” Ollie replied. “Keep me updated on how Kimi is doing, yeah?”
George nodded. “Will do.”
After Ollie had left, the first thing George knew he had to do was try and give Kimi some relief from his symptoms. He’d have to look for some medicine or other things of the sort in the room. Before George could begin looking, however, Kimi groaned again, and he instead returned his attention to the rookie.
“What’s bothering you the most?” The older driver asked.
“Hot,” Kimi muttered, rubbing at his face.
“That makes sense,” George mumbled to himself. “It’d be good to know what your temperature is…I’ll have to look for a thermometer, too.”
Kimi grumbled and squeezed his eyes tight, twisting his head and tucking his head against his shoulder.
“Right, hot,” George repeated, inwardly scolding himself for getting caught up on his mental checklist. Details didn’t matter right now. “We can do something about that.”
He walked into the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom, picking up a washcloth and running it under cold water from the sink. Wringing the small towel out, George neatly folded the damp fabric and brought it to Kimi, placing it on his forehead.
“There,” George murmured, smiling when Kimi let out a content breath. “It’s just a quick fix, but it’ll do for now.”
With the rookie now slightly more comfortable, George began to wander around Kimi’s room, searching through drawers and the teenager’s bags to see if he could find anything that might help with the illness. He’d normally be very against going through someone else’s things, but this was an exception. Kimi was not doing well at all, and George just had to find something. As he was rifling through a small suitcase, a loud knock sounded at the door, catching George’s attention.
Ah, Ollie must’ve forgotten something.
Standing up straight, George walked over to the door and opened it, his face going pale as soon as he saw who the visitor was.
“Oh, bloody hell.”
The figure on the other side of the room’s threshold scoffed. “What a lovely greeting.”
George rolled his eyes. “Max, I’m not in the mood right now. What are you doing here?”
“Responding to the kid’s text,” Max replied as though it were obvious. He tried to walk past George to enter the room, but the Mercedes driver was quick to block his way.
“Hold on, what do you mean his text?”
“He texted me,” Max answered unhelpfully, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping on the screen until he had accessed his messages. Once he’d pulled up the correct one, Max turned his phone around so George could see the exchange himself.
Kimi
> help
What happened to hi/hello, lol <
Jk, what do you need help with <
Uuh…you good? <
Nvm I’ll come to you <
George clenched his jaw. He knew Kimi looked up to Max, but texting the Red Bull driver had absolutely been the wrong choice on the rookie’s part. Involving Max in a situation like this, where sympathy and patience were essential, was completely useless. Max, of course, had no idea of the actual situation or what was going through George’s head, so all he saw was the clear frustration on the Britton’s face.
And he absolutely loved it.
“Wow, you really had no idea, huh?” Max laughed. “Rough way to find out you’re not the only emergency contact, ey?”
George shook his head but moved out of Max’s way. If Kimi really wanted his “help” then so be it, but that didn’t mean George himself had to play nice. “Nice try. You’d be an awful choice as an emergency contact; even a backup.”
Max shrugged. “Can’t say I disagree. So…where’s the kid?”
Although he was a bit thrown off by Max agreeing with him (on a less than civil comment, no less) George silently led him towards Kimi’s bed. Max seemed confused, but his eyes widened slightly when he realized the rookie was laid out in bed.
“Oh, shit,” Max murmured.
“Ollie called me in a panic because Kimi apparently passed out while he was here,” George explained. “It appears he’s caught some kind of bug.”
Max glanced down at Kimi’s huddled figure. The rookie was still trembling beneath the covers, his curls damp with feverish sweat.
“He’ll be fine,” Max dismissed almost carelessly. “He’s just got to tough it out.”
George was about to snap back at his rival, disgusted by his indifference, but was cut off by a violent coughing fit courtesy of Kimi. Max looked back down at the young Mercedes driver, and suddenly, his face softened. It was ever so slight, barely noticeable to anyone else who didn’t know better.
But George had seen it. And whatever nasty insult he’d had lined up for the Dutchman died on his tongue.
“I’ve got to go to the store and get some things to help Kimi,” George sighed, choosing to focus on the task at hand instead of fully psychoanalyzing Max like he wanted to. “He’s got nothing in here to help with his symptoms. Could you keep an eye on him while I step out? I won’t be gone long.”
Max let out a dry laugh, and George could feel all of his goodwill evaporating. “What am I, his babysitter?
Taking one threatening step towards Max, George hissed, “look. I don’t know what he sees in you, but for whatever reason, Kimi trusts you. He literally asked you for help because he wasn’t feeling well. The least you could do is stay here and keep him company while I’m gone.”
Max didn’t flinch. Not when George got closer to him, and not when he bit back at him. The Red Bull driver had gotten into plenty of scuffles in his life, with people much bigger and stronger than he was; the last person he was afraid of was George Russell. So, he took his own step closer to his rival, their noses practically touching as they stared one another down. Kimi soon managed to break up the tension between the two, however, with another well-timed coughing fit.
“Fine,” Max hissed, taking a step back but keeping his eyes locked on George. “I’ll stay. For him.”
He nodded towards Kimi, who was blessedly unaware of what was going on just feet away from his bed. George said nothing in response; he just kept staring at Max before giving the briefest bob of his head and turning on a heel to grab his phone and the extra key card to Kimi’s room, immediately walking out the door once he was situated.
“Pain in the ass,” Max grumbled, stomping over to the extra bed and taking a seat on its edge. He looked across the way, his breath catching when he remembered Kimi was there.
Fuck, I hope I didn’t just wake him up.
He waited a few moments, keeping his gaze on Kimi. But the teenager’s eyes stayed closed, and he didn’t move an inch. The (admittedly petulant) tramping on his part hadn’t done a thing to disturb the younger driver, and for that, Max was grateful.
About ten more minutes passed before Max folded his arms and allowed his eyes to wander towards the door of Kimi’s hotel room. To be fair, there really was no reason for him to stick around. George had taken a key to the room, so it’s not like he needed to be let back in. And the kid was clearly fully out of it; he wasn’t going to wander away or do anything reckless. Not in the state he was in. There were much more productive things Max could’ve been doing than keeping vigil by the bedside of a teenager with a cold.
Just as he was about to stand up from the bed, however, Kimi groaned and jerked his head to the side, the damp washcloth George had placed on his forehead sliding off. Max sighed and got to his feet, but instead of heading for the door, he walked over to the other bed. Picking up the washcloth, Max frowned when he felt how warm it was. It couldn’t have been on all that long; Kimi’s fever must’ve been pretty severe to have warmed up the towel so badly. Biting his lower lip, Max brought the washcloth into the bathroom and dropped it on the counter, picking up a fresh one instead. Turning on the faucet, he let the water run until it was cold, and just as George did before him, soaked the new washcloth in the icy water. Once it was fully saturated, he turned off the faucet and wrung the towel out until it was no longer dripping. Folding it into as neat of a rectangle as he could (it was definitely sloppier than George’s handiwork, but it was serviceable) Max returned to Kimi’s bedside and gently placed the cold towel on the young driver’s forehead. As soon as it made contact with his skin, Kimi groaned again and halfway opened his eyes, staring up hazily at Max.
“You’re alright,” Max softly assured the teenager, pushing his brunet curls back. “Keep resting.”
Kimi hummed, almost inaudibly, but Max took it as an agreement. He lingered, and the rookie’s eyes remained partially open, never once moving from his idol. Max, meanwhile, had one final fleeting thought about leaving. He could always just wait for Kimi to fall asleep, and text George that something had come up…what were they going to do, get upset with him? It wouldn’t be the first time.
Well…for Kimi it would be.
Max pinched the bridge of his nose. Kimi was still young, very young, and so new to his world…it wasn’t exactly like the kid had enough time to have some kind of issue with him just yet. It would probably happen eventually, just like it did with everyone else.
So why did that thought bother Max so much?
He really didn’t care what other people thought about him, or how they perceived his behavior, his attitude, his personality. That had no impact on his life. It was all just noise. If they wanted to have a problem with him, well, that was their business. Max was true to himself, and he would never change, and if others didn’t like it, that was of no concern to him.
But Kimi seemed to look at him so differently. He hung on every word he said, valued his advice, and followed him around the paddock like a little duckling. Anyone who had ever tried to criticize Max to Kimi (and that included George) was told they simply didn’t understand him. It was…kind of sweet.
Glancing down once again and setting his own eyes on Kimi’s half lidded ones, Max sighed and returned to the bed on the other side of the room, slowly retaking his seat at its edge while the rookie continued to lazily stare at him. After a short while, once he seemed content that Max was still in his line of vision, Kimi let out a shallow breath and allowed his eyes to fully close once again. In the now relative silence of the hotel room, Max pursed his lips and tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling.
He wasn’t going anywhere.