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Entering the paddock, you walk over to the Mercedes hospitality and make your way to the garage. You know Kimi and George’ll be there, prepping for the race, and your dad too. You’ve missed this. Being at a race, showing up as everyone’s favorite paddock princess.
But what about what your dad doesn’t know? That something else, or someone else has caught your attention. You’ve always been loyal to your dad’s team. Spending your childhood with him putting you in Mercedes team hats and practically growing up alongside his junior drivers your age.
But recently, you seem to have grown an interest in another team. A blue team, and a very special boy. You’ve not been as close with him when you were younger as you were the other Mercedes kids, but you’ve seen him from time to time. Arvid, the new apple of your eye.
You’d been overjoyed when he got promoted to a seat in F1. Now you would be seeing more of him than you did before, and you had an excuse to be together. What you don’t know, is that you’ve already been seen together, and talked about. You stay in the Mercedes garage for a bit, chatting with your dad, looking over the car.
When you decide to leave, Susie gives you a peck on the cheek. When you head to the hospitality through the paddock again, you’re all of a sudden interrupted. A photographer blurts his camera in your face, aggressive and yelling.
You’re used to the photos from a distance, even knowing some of your favorite photographers there and always smiling for their clicks. But this is different— these photographers are loud, and disrespectful.
Anyone who’s been in a paddock knows the rules. You don’t touch anyone, you don’t yell for answers and you sure as hell don’t get close with someone like a team principal! They have their cameras, microphones, lights, all up in your face, yelling and overwhelming you to no end.
You put your hands up in defense, trying to surrender, but they keep close to you and won’t let you go. At this point, you’re close to tears, the overwhelming flashing just making the headache worse and imagining the photos that they’re going to be publishing of this incident.
“Wolff! How do you feel about Mercedes’ performance so far?” he follows after as you back up. “Do you think it’s true that McLaren cheated? Was the disqualification necessary? What do you know about the new engines?” you walk faster, near sprinting as you wave them off and try to find a secluded spot. “Does the livery seem fair to you? Are we aiming for a championship?”
You find one near hospitality, and you let your shoulders down a bit that there are others nearby and they’ve stopped being so aggressive. “—and lastly, we’ve heard some pretty interesting things about your love life,” the photographer continues, camera focused on your face as you face away. “What do you have to say about the incident with Lindblad? Is it true, are the two of you together? How long? How do you think your dad’ll feel about this?”
Before you can react, you hear a voice. “Oi! Move!” And the photographer’s being forcefully pushed away, his heavy camera being shoved to the ground and him following after. The same with the rest of the interviewers, all retreating and walking away. And as if you can’t believe who’s standing there, Arvid Lindblad, in all of his Racing Bulls team kit glory. With a stern look on his face as he tells the one photographer off.
“You just don’t do shit like that, do you?” he keeps his voice down and gets near him, “Get the fuck away,” the photographers stumbled over apologies and asks for forgiveness, “I don’t want to see you near her again, got it? Mate, you’ve got to get out, I’m serious.”
You’re still frozen in shock. Before you can move, as the paparazzi left, Arvid reaches a hand out to help you up and you take it gladly. You brush off your skirt and get to your feet. “You okay? Saw from the garage, thought something was up.” always so attentive.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you give him your best smile. “Just a bit shaken up. Was a bit much, those questions,” he looks at you with empathy, and a little bit of pride at his action. “See that. Just… I’ll tell someone about this, okay? I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’ll make sure none of the photos get published.” you could thank him forever for that.
You walk with him to sit down on a bench, so you could catch your breath. Just by the Mercedes hospitality, mostly desolate. “You know,” he looks you in the eye, “You’ve always been cool. Disregarding who your father is, obviously,” he smiles awkwardly, “I’ve liked having you by the track when we were younger.”
Speak of the devil, you see a suspicious tall figure approaching. None other than your father, with some key slinging out from his pocket. He crouches so that he’s at height with the both of you, serious look on his face.
“Schatz,” he puts his hand out to rest on your knee. “I heard of what happened. I’m sorry about that. Please, tell me next time. They won’t be bothering you anymore, ich verspreche es dir.” you look at him with a slight smile, thankful for your dad.
He then he turns to Arvid, standing up. “And you, Lindblad,” he looks down at him with somewhat pride covering his features. “Thank you for helping. I know it wasn’t a lot, but I’m thankful.” he hands Arvid the key, with a firm hand. “Don’t get too used to it.”
Arvid smiles at him, clearly grateful and a smidge proud. “I won’t,” your dad reaches to shake his hand. “Thank you, sir.” He turns on his heel and leaves, leaving you alone again. Arvid unclasps his hand, observing the key. “What is this for?”
You look down at it, inspecting. “Oh!” you laugh, “It’s the key to one of his cars. As a present, I guess, that you saved me,” you put your hand on his arm playfully. “Now you get to drive me around in a Mercedes.” you continue, Arvid looking at you with the most lovestruck expression you’ve ever seen.